19. Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Nineteen
Cole
Annie looks away from me, blushing, and my heart clenches.
She's so fucking sweet.
"Annie," I say, and she turns back, meeting my eyes. "Are you scared?"
"No," she says automatically.
I raise an eyebrow, and she sighs.
"A little."
"You're still a virgin."
"Technically."
"Technically?"
"I mean, I've had sex toys," she blurts out.
"Okay, okay," I say, holding my hands up. "We don't have to do this, you know. I'd be happy to spend the rest of the night making you come with my tongue."
Her eyes widen, and her breath catches.
"It's okay if you're not ready," I add.
"But you are," she points out.
"Sure," I shrug. "I'm a man and I have a gorgeous, naked woman in bed. Of course, I'm ready."
"Cole," she admonishes.
"You know I touched myself too," I say huskily.
Her eyes go dark, and her nipples get hard.
I glance down, and her cheeks get even redder.
"Before I came in here," I continue. "Tried to take a cold shower to calm down. Didn't work."
"No?" Her voice is faint.
"No," I murmur, rolling over and settling between her legs. "Nothing was working so I thought coming here while thinking of you would help."
She shivers.
"Did it?"
"Does it seem like it?" I whisper, my lips brushing against hers. I press my hips into her, rubbing my hard cock against her sensitive clit.
She hisses and rocks her hips.
"You feel that, Annie?" I ask.
She whimpers .
"Feel how hard I am for you?" I continue, kissing her. "Harder now that I've tasted your delicious pussy."
"Oh, God," she groans, arching into me.
"Do you want to know what I thought about while jerking off?"
"Yes," she says, rocking her hips, trying to create more friction.
"You, bent over, taking my cock deep inside you."
She sucks in a breath.
"You on your knees taking me into your mouth," I whisper, and her lips part.
I slide my tongue in, and she whimpers.
"So fucking eager," I growl.
"Please," she whispers.
"You're begging already," I tease.
"Cole," she whines.
"Tell me, Annie. What do you want?"
"You," she moans.
"Me? Where do you want me?"
"Inside me," she pants and wraps her legs around my hips, trying to draw me closer.
I let her .
"Where, Annie?"
"I-Inside me," she stutters.
"Tell me what you want," I order.
Her eyes are dark as they snap to mine.
"Your cock," she says, the words bursting out of her.
"Where do you want my cock, Annie?"
"In-inside me," she pants, her eyes wild.
"Say it," I demand.
"In my p-pussy," she says, her voice rising.
"You want me to fuck you, Annie?"
"Yes," she groans, her head tilting back, her throat exposed.
"Ask nicely."
"Cole!"
I don't respond, merely slide a hand down her body and rest my palm against her needy pussy.
"Fuck me, Cole. Please fuck me," she adds in a whisper, and I smile.
"Good girl," I praise and press a finger inside her.
She moans.
"So wet for me," I say.
"Please," she begs, writhing under me.
"So responsive," I murmur, my lips trailing down her neck. "You sure you're a virgin, Annie?"
"What?" She's panting now as I take my time teasing her. "Yes. Yes."
"I don't believe you," I say. "Look how wet you are."
I emphasize it by sliding a second finger into her sopping heat.
"You're a naughty girl, Annie. Trying to fool me. Virgins don't have such dirty mouths."
"I'm not a—"
"Are you lying to me?"
She shakes her head.
"Don't lie," I say, withdrawing my fingers.
"No, no," she gasps. "I swear."
"Shh," I murmur. "I know."
I kiss her, and she sighs into my mouth, her arms coming around me.
"Cole," she says. "I want you. So badly."
I lean back and look down at her.
Her blonde hair is fanned out on the pillow, and her blue eyes are wide, her lips swollen from our kisses .
"Beautiful," I say.
"Please," she whimpers.
"I love the way you beg," I say, kissing her neck, my hands stroking between her legs, caressing her, bringing her back up.
She's gasping for air, writhing against me, trying to get some relief, but I don't let her.
When she's a whimpering mess again, her arms and legs wrapped tightly around me, her body moving desperately, her hips grinding against me, her voice is a sob when she cries out my name.
"Cole, Cole, Cole, please. Please, please, please. I can't. I can't. Fuck me, Cole. Please, fuck me."
"Look at me, Annie," I demand, and she forces her eyes open.
They're hazy and unfocused, but they're on mine.
"If it's too much, tell me, and I'll stop," I say.
"Now," she whines. "Don't stop. Don't stop."
"I will if you need me to," I assure her softly.
"Don't," she gasps.
"Shh," I murmur and shift between her legs.
I grab her thigh and hike it up over my hip, opening her wide.
She's watching me, her eyes wide, her chest heaving, as I take my cock and position myself against her.
I stroke her clit with my fingers, and she moans .
"You like that, baby?" I say, and her breath hitches.
Using my fingers, I take her up and up and up. Until she's clutching me and digging her fingers into my shoulder. Her eyes are slits, but she's looking at me, her lips parted as she pants.
"So beautiful," I murmur.
"Cole, Cole," she chants.
"Annie," I say. "Watch."
Her gaze slides down to where my fingers are and where my cock is positioned.
"Watch," I say, and slowly, very, very slowly, I begin to press into her. "Watch me fill you."
Her eyes are locked on where we're joined, and I push into her gently. The wide head of my cock meets resistance, so I stop and reach down, pressing her clit again.
She gasps, and her pussy softens, her muscles relaxing, allowing me to slide the tip into her.
"Yes," she groans, and her eyes drift closed.
"Watch," I order, and she opens them again.
"Watch," I repeat. "Watch my cock stretch your tight, little pussy."
Her lips part, and her eyes are locked on us .
Slowly, slowly, I push into her.
"Look at you, taking me so well," I whisper, and a whimper escapes her.
She's so damn wet that I'm sliding into her with almost no resistance, but still, I take my time and wait for her to adjust.
"You feel so fucking good," I groan, and she shudders.
I'm a little over halfway inside of her, and she's breathing hard.
"You okay?"
She nods and then gasps.
"Oh!" she cries.
"What's wrong?" I say immediately, pulling back.
"No," she whines. "Don't. Please, Cole."
She tries to pull me back, and her pussy clenches down on the tip of my cock.
"Are you hurting?"
"It's tight," she pants.
"Yes," I say, stroking her face. "I'm going to fill you, Annie. But I need to know if it hurts."
"A little," she admits, biting her lip. "But it's good."
"Just a little?"
"Yes."
"Tell me if it's too much."
She nods, and I press forward, my cock sliding in more, until the resistance comes again.
"Cole," she pants. "Cole, it's... a lot."
"Shh," I murmur, and I keep stroking her, my fingers teasing her clit, making her whimper. "You can do it, baby. Take all of me."
I wait for her to relax, and then, slowly, so fucking slowly, I sink deeper and deeper into her.
"Look at your little pussy, swallowing my cock," I say and watch as her eyes lock back onto us.
She's so fucking tight. Hot and wet and tight, and it takes everything in me not to just plunge into her.
"You're doing so well, Annie," I say, and the praise makes her shiver.
"So good," I whisper.
She whimpers, and her body melts.
"Good girl," I murmur, and a moment later, I thrust forward, filling her with one smooth stroke.
"Oh God," she groans, throwing her head back.
I groan in response and close my eyes, taking a deep breath.
This is better than anything I could have imagined.
She's so tight and wet .
"Annie," I whisper, leaning down to kiss her.
She turns her head to meet me, and our lips and tongues clash together, hot and wet.
I feel her pussy fluttering around me, and I grit my teeth.
I'm not going to come. Not until she does.
"Annie, Annie, Annie," I chant, and she's panting.
I pull back just a bit, testing her, giving her time to adjust to having me inside her.
Her eyes are closed, and her lips are parted, her cheeks flushed.
A goddess, and all mine.
"I feel so full," she says. "It feels so damn good. How can it feel this good?"
I smile and rock my hips, and her breath catches.
"More," she demands.
"Demanding," I say.
"Cole."
She says my name like a warning, and I laugh.
"You're going to regret that," I say, pulling back slowly.
"Oh!" She gasps.
"You ready for this, Annie? "
"What?"
I thrust smoothly back into her, and her words dissolve into a moan.
"That's it," I say, filling her up again.
Her hands grab onto my shoulders, and her nails dig into me, hard.
I groan, loving the way she's marking me.
"You like that, Annie?"
"Yes," she pants.
"You like when I fuck you?"
"Yes, yes," she groans.
"You think you can handle more?"
"Yes," she hisses.
"Say please."
"Please," she begs, and her arms and legs wrap around me, pulling me close.
I take her mouth again and kiss her.
Then, slowly, I begin to move.
With every stroke, she gets a little louder, a little wetter.
She's moaning, her head thrashing from side to side.
"Look," I whisper.
She looks, and her breath catches.
"Watch," I say. "Watch my cock slide in and out of your pussy."
Her gaze goes back down, and she watches, her eyes wide.
"Look how hungry you are," I say. "You can't get enough."
"Oh," she moans, and her head tilts back, her neck bared.
"Touch yourself," I order.
"What?"
"Play with your clit, Annie," I demand roughly. "Show me how you touch yourself when you're alone."
She hesitates, and then her fingers go to her pussy.
I watch as she strokes herself, and I can feel her getting even wetter.
"That's it," I encourage. "Rub your clit, Annie."
She whimpers, and her hips jerk, trying to get more friction, more contact.
"Keep rubbing," I say, and slowly, I withdraw and sink into her again.
Her lips part, and her cheeks are flushed.
"Faster," I order.
Her fingers move faster, and she gasps.
I watch her fingers moving over her clit as I start to thrust just a bit harder but still mindful .
"Yes," she whispers.
"That's it," I say, keeping my thrusts long and steady.
"Cole, Cole," she pants.
"Fuck," I curse. "You're so damn tight."
She arches her back and moves her hips, and her fingers keep stroking her clit.
"I'm close," she whispers.
"That's it," I say. "Come for me, Annie. Let me see."
She moans, and her eyes fly up to mine, her cheeks flushed.
"Come for me," I repeat, and she whimpers.
I speed up, and my fingers reach down and join hers on her clit, and she shrieks, her hips bucking.
"That's it," I urge. "Come on my cock, baby."
"Yes, yes, yes," she chants, her voice rising.
I can feel her getting closer and closer, her muscles tightening.
"More, please," she begs. "Harder."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, yes."
"Fuck," I hiss, and I let go—just a little.
The next thrust is a little harder, and her eyes widen.
"Like that?" I say.
"Yes," she moans. "More. Keep going, please."
"Annie," I grit out, and then I pull back.
"Yes, yes," she groans, her voice loud and her back arched, her eyes locked on me as I give her what she wants.
Her body is shaking, her fingers rubbing frantically at her clit.
I'm pounding her harder and faster now, the sound of our flesh slapping filling the air.
"I'm so close," she pants.
"Come for me, Annie. Show me how much you love it."
"Yes, Cole. Yes."
"So beautiful," I praise, remembering how much she loved it. "Look at your perfect tits bounce while I fuck you."
She groans, and her fingers pick up their pace.
"Come," I demand, feeling her pussy flutter around me as I thrust into her.
Her legs fall open wider, and her free hand reaches for the headboard, and she uses it to anchor herself as I fuck her a little harder.
"Cole, Cole," she calls out.
"Come," I command. "Come on my cock."
Her lips part, her chest is flushed, and her cheeks are red.
"I' m coming," she gasps. "Oh God, Cole, I'm coming."
"Come, baby. That's it. Let me see. Let me hear."
"Fuck," she groans, and her entire body stiffens.
She lets out a long, low moan, and her eyes flutter closed just as her pussy flutters around, pulsing to tell me she's running full speed toward an earth-shattering orgasm.
"I can feel you coming," I pant, thrusting into her again. "Let go, Annie. Come on my cock."
She wails, and her back arches as the pleasure overtakes her.
"That's it," I croon, reaching for her and dragging her closer.
Her body is tense as she writhes under me, her hips thrusting wildly.
"That's it," I whisper, slowing a little and easing the pace, letting her ride out her orgasm and holding my own off as long as possible.
"Cole," she whimpers.
"Yes," I hiss, and I can feel the tingle start at the base of my spine as I pick my pace up again, unable to hold off any longer.
"I'm going to come," I growl, and she whines.
"Fill me up," she moans. "Do it. Please, Cole. Fill me."
"Fuck, Annie," I snarl, and her eyes are back on me.
"That's it," she whispers. "Make me yours."
My eyes widen, and I let out a shout as the tingling in my spine shoots through me.
"Annie, fuck," I shout, and I explode, coming harder than I ever have before.
I'm lost to the sensation as I come, my hips jerking as I spill into her almost painfully.
My ears are ringing, and my vision is dark.
The only thing I can hear is the sound of our combined heartbeats.
When I finally catch my breath, Annie's looking up at me, her eyes hazy and her lips curled up into a dreamy smile.
"Well," she whispers, and her voice is husky. "That was amazing."
I collapse onto her, and we're both gasping.
"Oh, God," I say when I finally have control over my voice again.
"I know," she sighs.
"You okay?"
"Yes," she says, and her hand slides up to stroke my face.
I turn my head and kiss her palm.
"So good," she murmurs, her eyes fluttering closed.
"Yeah," I agree, kissing her cheek and then her lips.
I press kisses along her jaw and caress her body.
She sighs and shifts under me, her eyes still closed.
We didn't discuss it beforehand, what kind of aftercare—for lack of a better word—that Annie wants. Then again, she probably doesn't even know. Not that what we did was particularly kinky, in the traditional sense, but it was likely very intense for her, being her first time and all.
"Hey," I say softly, kissing her lips.
"Hi," she says, a sleepy smile curling her lips.
"You did so well, Annie," I say, and her smile gets a little wider. "I'm so proud of you."
She opens her eyes and meets mine, but only for a moment because they close again.
"Annie, we should get you cleaned up," I whisper, brushing her hair off her face.
"Hmm?"
"Then we should talk a bit, all right?" I tell her, and her eyes open again, unfocused and sleepy.
"Okay," she agrees, her voice slow and drowsy.
"Annie, you have to stay awake," I say softly but inject an order into it. "Can you do that for me?"
"Okay," she mumbles, but again, closes her eyes.
Her body is soft and limp under mine .
I sigh and press my forehead to her shoulder.
"You're not making this easy, are you, Annie?"
"Hmm?"
I laugh.
I press a kiss to her soft skin. "Sleep. We can talk tomorrow morning," I say and ease myself out of her.
A soft gasp escapes her as I pull out, but she doesn't open her eyes, just mumbles something.
"What was that?" I prompt.
"Was I a good girl?" she whispers sleepily.
My heart swells.
"Yes, Annie. A very good girl," I say and press a kiss to her lips. "The very best girl."
She hums in contentment and drifts off, snuggling into the pillow.
I'm tempted to join her, but instead, I force myself out of bed and get cleaned up. In the bathroom, there are some washcloths and towels, so I wet a cloth and go back into the room to wipe her clean.
She barely stirs. When she's as clean as I can get her without waking her up, I toss the cloth into the sink, finish cleaning myself up, and walk back into the room.
She's sound asleep, and her face is peaceful, her lips curled into a soft smile.
I don't have the heart to wake her, not after what she gave me.
I hesitate for a moment and then climb into the bed and curl my body around hers.
I lean down and press a kiss to her head and cover her with the blanket.
I'm exhausted. It's been a long, crazy day.
As tired as I am, it takes me a long time to drift off, though, my brain refusing to settle, my thoughts racing.
This is not what I planned, and this is not what was supposed to happen.
But it did, and there's no going back.
And I can't seem to make myself regret it.
***
The early morning light filters through the sheer curtains in Annie’s bedroom, bathing the space in a soft, golden glow. I stir awake slowly, the first thing registering in my mind being the warmth pressed against me. Her.
Annie .
She’s curled up next to me, her light hair fanning out over the pillow. Her features are relaxed, peaceful in a way I’ve rarely seen them, and her soft, steady breathing fills the quiet room. The events of last night hit me like a freight train, and I exhale slowly, careful not to disturb her.
I can still feel the weight of her in my arms, the way she trembled under my touch, and the way she trusted me. It wasn’t just sex. It was her first time. The gravity of that fact has been sitting in my chest like a lead weight ever since.
I glance at her again, noting the faint blush still on her cheeks even in sleep. She looks utterly exhausted, and I can’t blame her. She fell asleep almost immediately after—too quickly for me to do anything more than hold her, which is something I regret.
Someone like Annie, someone new to this—the controlling and demanding nature of me in bed—should’ve been cared for afterward.
It’s not just about the physical—it’s about grounding her, making her feel safe. Instead, I’d done almost nothing as she drifted off, not wanting to disturb her.
I know I should’ve done more, but she’d seemed content, sure, but I also know that can change in a heartbeat.
Carefully, I shift to sit up. I pick up her phone on the nightstand and silence her alarm due to go off in half an hour.
The last thing she needs right now is to be jolted awake by that shrill noise. Once it’s done, I linger for a moment, my eyes sweeping over her sleeping form. Her lips are slightly parted, and her lashes cast soft shadows on her cheeks.
She looks... angelic. Vulnerable in a way that makes something deep inside me twist.
I need to get out of here before I do something stupid, like crawl back into bed and stay there all morning.
Quietly, I slip out of bed, gathering my clothes from the floor and heading to my own room. The cool tiles underfoot are a jarring compared to the warmth I just left behind, but I welcome it. I need clarity. Focus.
Once I’m in my bathroom, I turn the shower on cold and step under the stream for the second time in twelve hours, letting the water run over me. Last night keeps replaying in my mind—her gasps, her flushed skin, the way she called my name, begged me, like it was a lifeline.
My jaw tightens as I try to push the memories aside, but it’s no use. They’re seared into my brain.
I shake my head and finish my shower. I shut the water off and grab a towel, drying off quickly before dressing in a crisp button-down and dark slacks. By the time I make it downstairs, the house is starting to stir with life.
Ellis is in the kitchen, already preparing Robbie’s things for the day. He glances up as I walk in, his expression as stoic as ever.
“Morning, sir,” he says.
“Morning,” I reply, pouring myself a cup of coffee. “Annie has the morning off,” I add casually.
Ellis raises an eyebrow. “Very well. Shall I adjust her schedule accordingly?”
“Yes,” I say, taking a sip of coffee. “It’s to make up for Saturday evening. She was supposed to have it off before... circumstances changed.”
Ellis, of course, knows about me rushing off to work on Saturday when I was supposed to be with Robbie, but I don’t know how much he knows about the argument yesterday or last night.
Then again, is there anything that goes on in this house that Ellis doesn’t know? That’s why he’s my Head-of-house. It’s his job and one he takes seriously.
But all he does is nod once, his movements efficient as he makes a note of it. He doesn’t press for details, for which I’m grateful.
A small voice draws my attention, and I look up to see Robbie coming down the stairs, his hair sticking up in every direction. His eyes light up when he sees me, and he breaks into a wide grin.
“Dad!” he calls, running toward me.
I set my coffee down just in time to catch him as he barrels into me, his little arms wrapping around my waist. The warmth of his hug catches me off guard, but I return it, ruffling his hair affectionately .
Maybe Annie was right, after all. Maybe it wasn’t too late.
“Morning, buddy,” I say. “You’re up early.”
“Ellis said we’re having French toast!” he says, stumbling a little on the words, his face lighting up.
“French toast, huh? Sounds delicious.”
“Where’s Annie?” Robbie asks, looking around.
“She’s still sleeping,” I say, keeping my voice calm and even. “She had a late night, so she’s taking the morning off.”
Robbie frowns slightly, his little brows drawing together. “Is she okay?”
I crouch down so I’m at his level, resting a hand on his shoulder. “She’s fine, buddy. Just tired. She’s been working really hard lately, hasn’t she?”
Robbie nods, his face serious now. “She’s always reading to me and playing dinosaurs. She says I’m her favorite T-Rex.”
The corners of my mouth twitch at that. “I’m sure you are. But even T-Rex wranglers need a break sometimes, right?”
That earns me a small giggle, and I stand, giving his hair another ruffle. “Let’s get you ready for breakfast.”
Ellis is already setting the table and Evelyn is bringing serving platters to it. Plates, utensils, a pitcher of orange juice—it’s all perfectly arranged. Robbie bounces over to his chair, climbing up and grabbing his fork in anticipation .
As we eat, Robbie chatters non-stop, his words coming in a rush as he recounts details of this and that.
A far cry from the last time we ate breakfast together just a few weeks ago. Had it really been that long since I ate breakfast with my son?
I listen, nodding and asking questions when he pauses for breath. Annie had been right; the stories weren’t exactly riveting, and the one he’s currently telling is one he already told me yesterday. But the way his face lights up as he talks makes every detail worth hearing again.
“And then Evelyn said we could pick one snack each,” Robbie says, his voice rising with excitement. “I picked the dinosaur gummies. You know, the ones with the blue T-Rexes?”
“Good choice,” I say, smiling. “Did Evelyn pick a snack too?”
Robbie nods emphatically. “She got pretzels. But not the twisty ones—the little sticks.”
I chuckle, finishing the last bite of my toast. Robbie’s stories remind me of how much I’ve missed in his life, how many moments like this I’ve let slip by. Annie’s voice echoes in my mind: He’ll think it’s his fault. He’ll think he wasn’t enough for you, when the truth is, you just didn’t show him that he was .
Not if I can help it.
After breakfast, I help Robbie get ready for school. He chatters as we head upstairs, his energy boundless. I guide him through the process of brushing his teeth and fixing his hair, though his cowlick refuses to cooperate .
By the end, we’re both a little frustrated—me because I’ve never done this before, and him because I’m supposed to be the one who helps him, but instead, he’s the one helping me.
His school uniform is a little wrinkled from the effort, and he frowns as I try to smooth it out.
“Do I look okay?” he asks, his voice tinged with worry.
“You look great,” I assure him, straightening his tie and his button-up. “Handsome as ever.”
He grins, the worry melting away. “Thanks, Dad.”
Ellis meets us by the front door, his expression as composed as always. He holds Robbie’s backpack in one hand and a neatly folded jacket in the other.
“Ready for school, Master Robbie?” Ellis asks.
“Yup!” Robbie chirps, grabbing his bag.
I kneel to his level, adjusting the strap of his backpack. “Be good today, okay? Listen to your teacher and don’t forget to tell me about your day when you get home.”
His eyes light up. “Are you going to be here?”
“Yes, buddy,” I say, my voice soft. “I’ll be here.”
Robbie’s grin widens, and he throws his arms around my neck in an impulsive hug. The unexpected warmth of it catches me off guard, but I return it, squeezing him tightly. When he pulls back, his face is flushed with happiness, and something deep in my chest twists.
“Okay, I’ll tell you everything!” he promises, his voice full of enthusiasm.
Ellis steps in smoothly, gently guiding Robbie toward the door. “Come along, Master Robbie. We don’t want to keep the car waiting.”
“Bye, Dad!” Robbie calls over his shoulder as he bounces down the steps, his little legs barely able to keep up with Ellis’s strides.
“Bye, Robbie,” I reply, my voice quieter now. I linger in the doorway, watching until the sleek black car pulls away, carrying my son toward another day at school. The sight leaves me feeling oddly hollow, as though some vital piece of the morning has gone with him.
For a moment, the house feels unbearably quiet. I turn back toward the kitchen, the faint aroma of breakfast still lingering in the air. Evelyn is bustling around, cleaning up with the practiced efficiency of someone who’s been running this kitchen for years.
“Mr. Wagner,” she says without looking up, her tone respectful but brisk. “Would you like me to pack a lunch for you today?”
“No, thank you,” I say, glancing at the spread still laid out on the table. My eyes land on a plate of French toast, golden and flaky. “Leave this out for a few minutes. I’m going to take some things. ”
“For the office?” she asks, already reaching for a container.
“No. Do we have a tray?”
That earns me a glance, one brow slightly raised, but Evelyn wisely doesn’t comment.
She’s too professional for that, though I can almost hear the unspoken thoughts swirling in her head. Instead, she turns, opens a cupboard and hands me a tray, her lips pressed into a polite smile.
“Thank you,” I say, and she inclines her head, already returning to her work.
I assemble a light breakfast for Annie. Fresh fruit, a couple pieces of French toast, a glass of orange juice, and some water. I move slowly, my thoughts drifting to last night.
I can still see the way Annie had looked at me, her eyes wide and vulnerable yet filled with curiosity and lust.
The way her voice trembled when she whispered my name, cried out. Begged and pleaded for release. The way she clung to me, her body soft and pliant under my hands one second, then tense and writhing the next.
It wasn’t just the physical connection that’s stuck with me—it’s everything. The way she stood up to me in the office, eyes fierce and angry, though I could tell she was scared.
The way she cares for Robbie, with patience and kindness that I know I don’t deserve but he does.
Balancing the tray in one hand, I walk out of the kitchen to head upstairs.
She deserves better than what I’ve given her so far. Last night, I’d pushed her, demanded things from her, but I hadn’t done enough afterward to make sure she was okay. That’s on me.
The duality of my nature has always been something I’ve struggled with. I’m a controlling man, in and out of the bedroom. It’s who I am, and it’s not something I can change. But with that control comes responsibility—responsibility to be gentle, to make sure my partner feels safe, especially someone as inexperienced as Annie.
I am dominant, though I wouldn’t call myself a Dominant in the way that some might define it. I’m not part of that world—though I have had my experiences in it.
For me, it’s not about roles or labels. It’s about control—knowing exactly how far to push someone, how to read her needs, how to push her to her limits, bring her back to safety, and then push her again.
I need it, I crave it. To know that the woman with me is blind and deaf to anything but my voice, my touch, the sensations I invoke in her.
But control is nothing without responsibility, and, boy, is it a responsibility. And so very humbling.
Many people think that control is about taking. It’s not. It’s about a woman trusting enough to let go and hand it to me .
Balancing control and gentleness has always been a challenge for me. The intensity of what I want, what I crave—it doesn’t leave much room for hesitation.
But with Annie, hesitation wasn’t the issue. It was trust. Her trust in me. That wide-eyed innocence mixed with unflinching bravery—it’s rare. It’s dangerous. And it’s utterly intoxicating.
She’s inexperienced, unguarded in a way that’s both refreshing and terrifying. Being with her requires something more—gentleness, patience, guidance. Last night, I felt that duality more acutely than ever. Demanding one moment, careful the next.
As careful with her as I could’ve been. Not in the way that one is with a virgin, but she didn’t want that. She wanted more, so I gave her what she wanted—what she and I both craved—I was demanding, pushing her in ways that were probably overwhelming at first.
She’d responded beautifully—eager, open, and utterly uninhibited by the kind of hesitation I might have expected from someone so inexperienced.
She’d given me everything last night. Her body, her trust, her vulnerability. And while I’d taken it, reveled in it, I hadn’t done enough to show her what it meant to me.
Afterward is just as important as anything that happens before or during. Especially for someone like Annie. She needed to be cared for, reassured, made to feel secure. And while I’d held her as she slept, I know it wasn’t enough.
Last night, I’d let myself fail her in that just because I didn’t want to disturb her. I’d let her fall asleep without grounding her, without making sure she felt cared for after what we’d shared. That was my mistake.
The thought makes my stomach twist.
As I climb the stairs with the tray, I tell myself this is my chance to do better—and explain everything to her.
It had been so sudden last night that we hadn’t been able to really talk about what it means to relinquish control and all the things that go with the territory.
I’m not sure how she’ll react, though, now that passion and lust aren’t clouding her mind.
It’s easy to get lost in the physical—her soft gasps, the way her body arched into mine, the way she begged for more with her trembling voice. But what stood out the most was the look in her eyes.
The raw, unguarded trust. It’s a look I’ve seen before, but never quite like that. Never with so much vulnerability wrapped in courage.
That’s the part that sticks with me, that lingers even now as I move through the house. She gave me something precious last night, something I didn’t entirely deserve.
I reach her door and pause for a moment, balancing the tray as I shift it to one hand. My knuckles hover over the wood, unsure if she’s even awake. I hesitate, and in the end, I decide not to knock and just walk in.