Chapter 4 Sydney #2
He inhales deeply, blowing it out through pursed lips.
I’m sure he’s said these exact words to his submissives before, but I need him to understand that even though I’m the dominant one tonight, he holds every bit of the power.
He can get up and leave whenever he wants, although I hope that if we get into uncharted waters, he’ll communicate with me.
This is all new to me, too, since I’ve certainly never dommed someone who’s used to being in a position of power.
“Yes,” he replies, giving me his consent to move forward.
Part of me wants to grip him by the dark hair at the crown of his head and pull his mouth right to where I ache for him, but the other part—the one that respects what he’s letting go of to do this with me—wants to move slowly.
I’m insanely turned on by the idea of this beast of a man relinquishing all control to me, and if I make it an experience he’ll never forget, maybe he’ll be down to do it again.
“Let’s take this party to the bed, baby boy,” I say, the term of endearment rolling off my tongue so naturally as I stand from the throne.
Most of the subs I encounter at Velvet want it rougher—degrading—and don’t like when I speak softly.
But again, this is new to us both. I don’t want to scare him off by doing something like digging a heel into his chest and demanding that he move.
He attempts to stand so he can follow me across the room, but I catch his attention with an abrupt snap of my fingers. He stops in his tracks, looking up at me from his knees.
“I want you to crawl for me,” I tell him. “If you stand before I tell you to, you’ll be punished. You don’t want to start the night being spanked, do you?”
He shakes his head. “No. I’m sorry.” The words come out through clenched teeth, and I can tell that even though he’s here, giving full permission for me to treat him this way, it’s not easy.
He wants to rebel—to tell me to fuck off—but his desire to see if the chemistry between us is real has him going against every one of his instincts.
“That’s alright,” I answer, smiling softly. “You’re doing such a good job. Follow me.”
He obeys my order, staying right beside me as I saunter to the other side of the room and climb onto the mattress.
I settle my back against the plush pillows, patting the satin sheets in invitation.
He climbs up, resuming his position on all fours with a touch of hesitation behind his eyes as he awaits my instruction.
“I’m so wet for you,” I tell him, spreading my legs. His gaze locks onto the glistening skin, heat burning behind it as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. My core clenches at the sight, throbbing and desperate to feel him pressed against me. “Do you want to taste?”
He exhales a shaky breath and nods tightly, the muscles in his shoulders and arms trembling as he holds himself up.
I lift my chin, giving him the green light to come closer.
He doesn’t waste time, crawling in between my parted thighs, flattening his chest to the bed, and taking a deep breath.
His eyes roll back when the scent of my arousal registers, and that’s when I realize that I’m just as needy—if not more so—for him to put his mouth on me.
“Touch me, gorgeous,” I demand. “Do whatever you want. Just make me feel good, so I can do the same to you.”
As though he’s been waiting a lifetime, he wraps his arms around my thighs, his fingers digging into the sensitive flesh as his head lowers right where I need him.
There’s no preamble—no teasing—just his tongue flat on my slit as I gasp into the quiet room.
I can tell he’s letting go of his restraint a bit as he begins to lick and suck, flicking at the barbell that decorates my clitoral hood, but I allow it because it feels entirely too good to stop him.
Right now, it’s just a rough touch and him forcing me open so he can feast, but I’d be lying if I said I was confident in my ability to remain in charge if he decided to flip the script.
I may just end up on my knees if he figures me out.
“Oh, fuck,” I breathe, my back bowing from the mattress when he nibbles on my clit.
There’s no question that he’s usually the dominant one with the way he’s devouring me—not a moment of pause behind every stroke.
He’s strong, confident, and skilled, reducing me to a puddle as he eats me like he’s been starved for weeks.
“Jesus Christ,” he mumbles, the most pornographic sounds filling the air as he quite literally speaks with his mouth full. “This cunt is so sweet. Fucking come for me.”
If he were anyone else, I’d stop him right here for thinking he has the authority to tell me what to do.
But I’m so goddamn close, his talented tongue dancing over my sensitive pussy and stealing any semblance of a reprimand from my lungs.
I couldn’t speak even if I wanted to, because when he sucks roughly, pulling all the blood below my waist straight to the tip of my clit, all I can do is grip the sheets and hope I don’t float away.
My pulse pounds heavily between my ears, the sound of my moans and his wet mouth against my even wetter center fading into nothing as I approach the summit.
I can feel his fingers gripping tightly to my thighs, no doubt leaving bruises that I’ll have to hide in the morning.
But as my muscles wind whipcord tight and pleasure gathers between my legs before finally splintering into a thousand pieces, I couldn’t give less of a fuck.
“Coming!” Is the only warning I give before everything goes black, the strongest orgasm I’ve ever had in my life pulling me into oblivion.
I vaguely make out the violent tremors that rack every one of my limbs, because the main focus of this moment is how he’s still licking me through the waves of my release.
It isn’t until he’s wrung me completely dry that I return to awareness, my eyes finding him as he stares at me with the sexiest grin I’ve ever seen.
Shit. I’m in trouble.