Chapter 33 #2
I had what was probably a general understanding of brat kink, thanks to a chatty client who bartended at a play club downtown, but I was by no means well versed enough to jump right into the deep end.
From what I understood, it was very much a dom/sub relationship in which the sub enjoyed testing their limits and the dom’s patience, and the dom saw their impertinence as more playful than rude.
I knew that discipline was part of it, that a dom was meant to punish their bratty sub to teach them better behavior, but .
. . what if I didn’t want Tyler well-behaved?
The idea of him suddenly turning nice and compliant didn’t sit right with me, felt like too much of a monumental personality shift.
Did I want him to be his most assholic self?
No. But I also didn’t want him to stop pissing me off either, because in those moments when I’d forgotten that he was my blackmailer and we’d just been two people, bickering while simultaneously trying to make the other laugh or break or even scream .
. . I’d forgotten that we weren’t really dating.
That we were only supposed to be pretending to like each other.
Maybe that was fucked up, but I’d never been overly romantic.
I didn’t want flowers and chocolate; I wanted a challenge.
I reached down and threaded my fingers through Tyler’s damp hair, bending his head back to force him to look up at me. His eyes were their deepest blue, pupils wide, expression open and guileless and patient, like he could have stayed like that all night if I told him to.
I’d never seen him so settled, so at peace, and it made me start to believe this might be real.
“I don’t want to hit you,” I said.
“You don’t have to.”
“Degradation, however . . .”
He tried to nod in my hold, but I tightened my fingers so he couldn’t move. “Yes, please.”
“And orgasm denial. You definitely don’t deserve to come.”
“I don’t.”
Fuck, the way he agreed so easily.
“Afterward, we’re talking,” I said.
He wrapped a hand around the back of my calf, rising up just enough for me to see that he was fully aroused. “I’ll do whatever you tell me to.”
Oh, god. Nope. I did not have the willpower to do the right thing and say no. I’d come close to dying today, and right now, I was desperate to feel alive. And, look, how convenient: a gorgeous, willing man on his knees before me.
Was I still fucking furious with Tyler? Absolutely, but the problem was, anger had always been part of the equation when it came to my attraction to him, and that didn’t seem to be changing anytime soon.
I slid my calf out of his grasp and dropped onto the mattress, spreading my legs open right in front of his face. “Lick my pussy, Tyler.”
Without hesitation, he ripped off my sweats and underwear and then shoved me backward on the mattress before crawling onto the bed with me.
He ducked between my legs, pushing my thighs up and over his wide shoulders, tipping me back in the process and burying his face between my legs.
Okay, then, no tame little sub for me. The second his tongue touched the evidence of my arousal, he groaned.
“Tell me you love how wet I am for you,” I said.
“I love how wet you are for me, Stella.” He swirled his tongue around my clit.
“How hot.” It dipped into my entrance. “How tight.” A long, seductive stroke back up to my clit, before he paused to toy with it.
“I’ve wanted another taste of this pussy since I licked your underwear.
It’s all I could think about.” He sank his tongue deep, nose nuzzling my clit.
“Stop,” I said.
He froze, lifted his eyes to mine, and the sight of him, staring up at me like that, his sides heaving from how turned on he was, hands shaking with the need to move, completely undid me.
I wanted to grind down onto his face. Wanted to leave him wet and glistening and tell him he wasn’t allowed to clean himself off.
Wanted him to go to sleep with my cum on him.
His eyes darkened, all the warning I had before he flicked his tongue inside me, proving just what a fucking brat he was.
“Sit back,” I said, both pissed, and pleased, which was an odd combination, but I was done suppressing my responses to this man. I presented Tyler with my foot. “Lick this instead.”
Again, no hesitation. He wrapped those big hands around me, one holding up my heel, the other cradling my calf. Still maintaining eye contact, he licked a long, slow line all the way up the underside of my foot.
I propped myself up on an elbow, my other hand sliding between my spread legs. “Clean it.”
Tyler swirled his tongue around my big toe and then sucked it into his mouth, and from the way his eyes closed in bliss, it might as well have been his favorite food.
I’d never had anyone do this to me before—no one had ever wanted to—and I was surprised by how much I enjoyed it.
Especially when he shifted his grip and started massaging my foot simultaneously.
There was just something so sinfully hot about it.
Maybe it was because it felt slightly taboo.
Or maybe it was that my feet had carried my weight for my entire life, and now someone was finally showing them some appreciation for it.
He shifted a little, and the towel finally gave up the fight, falling off him to pool onto the mattress. His dick filled my sight, so big, so hard. Fuck, he really liked this.
“Look at me,” I said.
His eyes fluttered open.
I plunged my fingers into myself.
Tyler’s gaze latched onto the movement, and I could tell from the way his grip tightened on my ankle that he wished it was his fingers filling me up.
“If you do a good job, I’ll give you another taste,” I said.
He cleaned every single one of my toes while I used my fingers to tease myself, to tease us both. When he was done, he started to lean in. I planted my foot on his chest to stop him. He frowned, an echo of the Tyler I knew so well visible in his stormy expression.
I swirled my fingers deep inside me, eyes rolling at the pleasure, at the feel of my inner walls clenching around myself, and then pulled them out. “Open.”
The thunderclouds cleared, replaced by a pleased expression that told me Tyler liked my little deception.
I held my fingers up in offering. He strained forward, having to work for it because my foot was still on his chest, and I was not going to make this any easier for him.
The hottest part was that I knew he could overwhelm me if he wanted to, and yet he chose to play along instead.
He grabbed my wrist. Held it steady. Lifted his eyes to mine.
And then he slid my fingers deep inside his mouth, tongue swirling around them, lapping me up, a pleased sound rumbling through his chest at the taste of me.
I squeezed my thighs together, knowing how he must feel because I’d been craving another taste of him, too.
He slid off my fingers with a pop!
“Get on your knees and put your hands on the headboard,” I told him.
He didn’t ask why, didn’t argue, just nodded in submission and crawled past me.
I turned my head, watching him, mesmerized by the sight of his complicity.
And then he was in position, thighs bunched, back flexed, big arms braced, facing the headboard.
His skin looked gilded in the soft light, and maybe I did want to hurt him, at least a little, because if I had a flogger, I would have gladly used it to redden his ass.
My eyes rose to the three red marks on his back.
I wanted to kiss them, tell him I was sorry they were there, that no one should have done that to him, but he didn’t want to be in his head right now, and if I was being honest, neither did I, so that softer treatment would have to wait for another time, another mood.
Right now, we needed something different, something harder on both of us, but especially him.
“Move back a little,” I said.
He complied, giving me more than enough room to slide between him and the headboard.
I turned, putting my back to him, and pulled my shirt off. “Are you okay with us not using a condom again?”
“God, yes,” he growled. “I want—”
I turned and pressed a finger to his lips. “No one cares what you want.”
His dick twitched against my back, even as his eyes flared. Oh, he loved it.
Turning around, I did what I wanted, leaning forward, bracing one hand against the pillows, reaching between my thighs with the other to grip his girthy cock.
I wasn’t even close to being able to take all of him, at least not easily, and the thought of the stinging pain that came from fucking a large dick without the proper prep only spun my desire higher.
I remembered it well from our first time together and wanted to feel it again.
Needed to. Because I had no idea how long this tentative peace would last and I planned to make every second of it count, give myself something good to remember if it all went to shit again because Tyler decided to go back to being The Worst.
“Don’t move a muscle,” I told him. And then I dragged the head of his dick through my folds, his skin hot against my slickness.
I paused with it at my entrance, pushed back just a little to test myself.
Oh, god, this wasn’t going to be easy for either of us.
Him, because I planned to drag it out. Me, because my entire body was exhausted and hurt, and now I was asking even more of it.
My core pulsed at the thought of how good it had felt last time, warmth flooding my veins, nipples tightening. I swirled my hips, coating him in my arousal, and tried again, taking more this time. Another swirl. Another push, and I sank onto his head.
Tyler groaned above me, the sound guttural.
I smiled and pulled off him, repeating the motions, and sank back down.
Oh, fuck, it was heaven. Exactly what I needed.
The perfect blend of discomfort and pleasure.
I wanted to prolong the feeling, so I stayed where I was, just existing, just breathing, while my body stretched around him.
His chest heaved against my back, and I knew he must be dying, the urge to thrust so strong it was nearly overwhelming.
I shifted forward, back again, taking just a little bit more before my body clenched up, fighting the invasion, trying to tell me it was too much when I knew damn well it wasn’t nearly enough. The sound of our breaths filled the room. My thighs trembled with exhaustion and need.
I released his dick and leaned forward on both hands, widening my legs, angling my hips as I slid almost all the way off him before shoving backward, trying to force it. A sting of pain, and then a flood of pleasure. Yes, this was what I wanted. For my brain to fade out and my body to take charge.
“Don’t come,” I said.
A tremor ran through Tyler, and his breath gusted out in a rush, but he knew better than to respond now. Knew I didn’t want to hear his voice. He was a glorified sex toy, and I was going to use him to get myself off before I even thought about releasing him from the order.
I shifted forward, thrust back, fucking myself onto him, and started a steady rhythm, angling my pelvis forward to widen myself as much as possible and moaning when it didn’t work, when I realized nothing was going to make this any easier and I was going to have to fight for every inch.
Big dicks I had come by before, but none had been this wide, and it was a whole new experience.
The headboard creaked above me. I glanced up to see Tyler white-knuckling it, muscles straining, veins popping as he fought to stay still.
The sight soaked me, a heady wave of lust punching into my core before tearing through the rest of my body, igniting my veins, turning every part of me hypersensitive.
I rocked back harder, took him deeper. Deeper.
Oh, fuck. He must have been close to bottoming out.
I leaned down, looked between us, and tightened up at the sight of how much further I still had to go, how much cock I would have to coax my body to accept.
This angle was different than last time, harder to manage.
He was already hitting part of me I’d never felt before; any more, and he’d be rearranging my guts.
Maybe it’ll fix them, I thought, and almost laughed at the idea of my chronic illness being cured by a magical penis, like this was some sort of slutty fairytale.
I took a deep breath, begged my inner muscles to relax, and fucked him even deeper into me. “God, you’re doing so well, Tyler. You’re staying so still while I take you.”
He let out a tortured sound, and I knew he must be suffering.
I smiled.
Good.