Chapter 15
Iwas finally alone. It took all sorts of threatening, but Maddox eventually left my hotel room. With the promise of being only feet away.
Yara was no longer destroying my toilet, so I sent her a quick text.
Me: You good?
Yara: Better. I’ll know if you bail. You didn’t take it earlier, but don’t worry, check under your pillow <3
I threw my phone down onto the ground dramatically and walked to the pillows.
Come to Bed stared back at me in bold red print on the manila folder.
One more glance to the adjoining door and I jerked the folder up and walked to my bathroom, locking the door. Neither Maddox nor Oliver knew what personal space was.
Thankfully there was no indication of the massacre that Yara put the toilet through earlier, and I was able to breathe without the smell of vomit souring the space. Now it just smelled of bleach.
Feeling secure, I leaned against the sink counter and opened the folder. A pen and room key fell out and I scooped them from the ground.
The room key matched the one I had for my current room. The number was different, but it was on the same floor.
I sucked in a deep breath.
The top page was the NDA. I scanned it before signing.
Placing the NDA on the counter, I turned to the next page.
I pushed the air out aggressively. I was really doing this. No turning back now.
I scrunched up my brow. Should I have asked to see the man first? Maybe. But I trusted Yara, and I needed this. I required something to get Sebastian out of my mind. To stomp down my growing lust for both Oliver and Maddox. Maybe this was exactly what I needed. I flipped the page.
My face turned progressively redder as I scanned through the list. I input most of it onto my profile over a year ago, but some I had added more recently. We were forced to write in our own words what it was that we wanted and didn’t want. I was sure there was more I needed to add to the denied list, but my stream of missionary partners hadn’t done much to allow me to dive into the kink community.
I had always been interested in it and I always felt something was missing. My excitement grew as I realized I was finally going to live out a fantasy.
I scribbled down my go-to safeword. Butterscotch. I circled one singular request above. It was something I had always wanted to try, but never felt comfortable enough to ask my previous partners.
Sleep play. Or as the internet had so helpfully informed me: dormaphilia.
Sleep play was giving consent to something otherwise non-consensual. I wanted someone else in control because I allowed them to be, not because they chose to be. It felt like taking back the script. The thought of it made me feel powerful.
I wanted the man to use me exactly how he wanted, but only because I allowed it. I desired to be pushed to my limits with the ability to stop it. I needed to be forced out of my comfort zone with a safe partner.
My stomach fluttered uncomfortably with moths desperately trying to escape, but I ignored it.
I was ready.