Chapter 10
Chapter 10
Lane
The sound of meowing dragged me out of my deep sleep. I struggled to open my eyes, my movements all feeling disjointed and slow. When I finally managed to get my eyelids fully open, I wasn’t surprised to be greeted with Chloe staring at me from her spot on my chest. Every morning she’d typically perch there, meowing and pawing at my face until I awoke and fed her breakfast.
I wasn’t usually a morning person, but still, I felt much sleepier than normal. My eyes drifted closed once more as I weakly lifted my arms to hug Chloe. She meowed in discontent and squirmed out of my hold before jumping off of the bed. I rolled to my side, pressing my face further into the pillow. I snuggled into the plush, soft bed, and began to fall back asleep. Just then, like an alarm had gone off in my head, I was jolted awake by the realization that I wasn’t in my own room.
Still feeling foggy, I confusedly took in my surroundings. I wondered if I was still asleep and dreaming, because it appeared I was in a girl’s bedroom. I sat up and ran my hand over the velvet, light pink comforter. The queen-size bed was partially obscured from the rest of the room by a white canopy. The walls matched the light pink of the comforter and were lined with shelves of teddy bears, artwork of cats, and vases of flowers .
There was a vanity sitting along the far wall, and next to it, an open door leading to a bathroom. From my spot in bed, I couldn’t see much in the bathroom besides a large bathtub.
There was a large flatscreen TV, a giant cat tree, and a big, fluffy, pink bean bag. I loved it - jealous of whomever’s room it was, but I still couldn’t remember how I got there. I racked my brain. I remembered falling asleep in my own bed after a bath. Then… flashes of handcuffs, Dr. Cohen, and moans. That had to have been a dream, right? As I remembered more and more of last night, my face flushed. If it wasn’t real, why did my asshole feel weird? Why did it feel empty and also a little sore?
There was a brief knock at the door before it swung open. I froze and carefully tracked every movement my therapist made as he walked to the edge of my bed and sat. I was so shocked that I just stared at him like a deer in headlights. Did he assault me last night, kidnap me, and then bring me to my dream bedroom to murder me?
“I-I– Uh…” I stammered, his resulting smirk causing my belly to heat.
He moved further onto the mattress until he was sitting directly beside me. His hand snaked under the blanket, not stopping until it cupped my half-hard cock. I twitched upward before I could help it.
“Sleep well, little fawn?” He purred, reaching into my silken shorts and wrapping his hand around my shaft. He began slowly jacking me off, getting faster each time I jerked my hips. His other hand found its way under my tank top to my nipples. He rubbed and pinched, moving back and forth to each one.
I moaned, “Mmm… Wait– Wait–”
His gaze darkened. “Yes, princess?” He continued his ministrations, rubbing his thumb over my slit, dipping into the precum.
“I– Please… Not there…” I whispered, my face red in embarrassment and shame.
“Not here?” He squeezed the head of my cock. He chuckled, “Where do you want me to touch? You need to tell me or I won’t be able to help you, honey.” His eyes sparkled with mischief.
I groaned, not wanting to ask for it. I mumbled, “M-My hole…” I covered my eyes with my forearm.
He gleefully asked, “Do you want me to stop playing with your little cock so that I can fill your pussy?”
I moaned, nodding and shifting to allow him more access down there. His fingers were soon rubbing over my rim, wetting it with lube. I bucked up as he pushed the first finger into me. His index finger curled until it was pushing against my prostate.
“My horny baby. Can’t even wait to hear why you’re here before needing to be fucked,” he growled, pushing a second finger in.
I let out a long moan while rocking back to meet each thrust of his fingers. My legs began to shake as he nailed my prostate with each thrust. I could feel the pressure quickly building inside.
“I’m gonna–” I couldn’t finish speaking as Greyson suddenly leaned over and sucked my pulsing cock into his mouth. I shouted and instantly released, trembling with pleasure.
Our eyes connected as he eagerly swallowed down my load. I collapsed against the bed, my chest rising and falling as I tried to catch my breath. Greyson leaned back, propping himself up with an elbow. He gently brushed the hair from my face, then placed a chaste kiss on my forehead. I squeezed my eyes shut as post-nut clarity slammed into me.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
God.
I hadn’t even tried to resist.
I wanted it.
He could’ve been coming into the room to kill me, and I fucking begged him to finger me?
“Get out,” I whispered .
Greyson - no - Dr. Cohen’s eyes switched from the look of pure adoration to something dangerous. Still, he put a tight smile on his face, his jaw clenched, as he too-sweetly asked, “What was that, Lane?”
I flung both arms over my face before shouting, “Get OUT! Get out, get out, get out!” I heard as he took a deep, measured breath. I felt the bed shift as he stood.
“I know you’re confused, sweetheart. I’m trying to make this as comfortable as possible for you,” he gritted out, sighing as he continued, “I’ll give you some time. I’ll be back with a late breakfast in an hour. You’re not to leave this room.”
The door clicked as it locked behind him.
“FUCK!” I yelled, balling up my fists and pressing them into my eye sockets.
I laid in my bed for a long time, staring blankly up into the bed canopy. I was brought out of my stupor by Chloe jumping back onto the bed. She eased my racing mind a little, meowing at me. I took a deep breath in as I looked at her sitting on her haunches, fitting right in with the room’s princess aesthetic. Carefully, I got down from the bed, startled to find fuzzy slippers waiting for me on the floor. I slid my feet into them, pushing my toes down into the soft cushion inside. My head hurt as I tried to make sense of the situation.
I wandered around the room, finding some of my things from home. I ran my fingers across the top of the gorgeous vanity mirror. Sitting down on the vanity’s cushioned seat, I stared at my reflection.
Was this a psychotic break?
Had I finally gone completely insane?
I took stock of the newly purchased, high-end cosmetics and a few fancy-looking perfume bottles. Why go to the length of buying me these things? The more I thought about it, the more I saw that potentially the entire room was styled to suit my preferences. But, why? Could this all be a coincidence? Maybe he had a sister and this was her room? I didn’t think he did, but I obviously didn’t know him as well as I thought.
None of this was okay, even if he had decorated this room for me. He was my therapist. Didn’t they have rules about relationships with patients? Oliver had mentioned something about ethics. Oh, God. Oliver. He’d warned me several times about there being something off about Dr. Cohen. Why did I ignore him? Why did I ignore my own concerns? I knew he was weird. I knew he did and said things to me that he shouldn’t to a patient. I knew it was all technically wrong. Why had I allowed it? Why didn’t I report him or why didn’t I find a different therapist? I kept telling myself over and over that I was misinterpreting his actions - there was no way he was flirting with me; there was no way he was interested in me. Was it because I truly thought that there was no way or was it because I liked it and wanted to see how far it could go?
I had literally told him during therapy that I liked my stalker’s attention. I had a voice inside from the start, constantly screaming that he was danger personified.
To run.
To not entertain his advances.
To not keep every single tulip.
And yet, I ignored it. Even when I first saw him, I clocked that he was masking his disinterest when speaking with that client.
Had I wanted this to happen?
I held my head in my hands, letting my hair fall around my face like a curtain. I should’ve been searching for a way to escape. I should’ve been crying and screaming. I should’ve been contemplating fighting back. He’d already killed Tate - would he kill me too?
Greyson had known this was what I wanted from the moment I told him I hadn’t called the police for the break-in.
In truth, I had fantasized about him doing something like this. I just hadn’t expected it to actually happen. But now that it was, I felt stuck, unsure whether to respond to the situation like a “normal” person or to give in to what I wanted.
Wait.
Did he want me to think that I wanted this?
Was I gaslighting myself? Self-victim-blaming?
A knock on the door reverberated throughout the room. I continued looking straight into the mirror as I watched him enter and lock his sight on me. I watched as he strode over, standing behind me, making eye contact with me through the mirror.
“Are you hungry?” He gently asked.
I nodded, turning to take his offered hand. To my surprise, he led me out of my bedroom and down a hallway, stopping in the kitchen. He pulled out one of the chairs from the kitchen table. I sat quietly, seeing a waffle and a cup of chocolate milk in front of me. Looking around, I could see that we were in a large, high-end apartment with floor to ceiling windows, a nice living room with a big, cozy couch and brick fireplace. While my room screamed “twelve-year-old girl obsessed with fairytales and her mother’s makeup,” the rest of the apartment was somewhat moody - dark woods, brick, dark greens and blacks. It fit well with this new side of Greyson I was seeing.
“Please tell me you’re not giving me the silent treatment,” he tried to joke, but the tension in his body language betrayed him.
“No, I’m just… confused. Why am I here, Greyson?”
His eyebrows raised before he brightly smiled and reached over to cut my waffle into bite-size pieces.
He hummed, “In general? I began planning to take you after our first session. I had originally planned for your… relocation to be in several weeks from now, but I admittedly got a tad bit anxious after our last session. It was a hasty decision, but I didn’t want anyone else touching you. You said you were going to try to find a partner. I’m your partner.”
“The room?” I asked him, picking up a piece of waffle with my fork .
He watched - a pleased look on his face - as I ate.
“Do you like it? Every single thing in there was chosen with you in mind. My room will always be our room, but I wanted you to have a place all to yourself too.’ He hesitated, drumming his fingers against his glass. “You seem calmer now. Did the alone time help?”
I grumbled, “Sure.”
“I’m glad.”
“I’m still confused on how I’m supposed to feel. You’ve committed several crimes against me. You’re apparently a murderer? I don’t think I should act like this is okay.”
Greyson tilted his head, letting out a small chuckle. “Mm. I did and I am.” He looked deep into my eyes. “You’re not supposed to feel any specific way. I don’t want you to act with me. I want your genuine emotions - raw, unfiltered - however dark or abnormal you think they are. Earlier, when you told me to leave, you didn’t actually want me to. You realized that you weren’t acting how someone drugged and kidnapped by their therapist should act, and that scared you. You’ve hidden your true feelings your entire life, hiding behind the facade of normalcy - pretending. You don’t have to hide anymore, darling.”
I swallowed, silenced by my confusion on whether he was really right or if he was only making me feel like he was. I cleared my throat.
“Last night… that would count as sexual assault if I went to the police. I don’t understand how I’m not upset by that - what I should be disgusted at - and instead I’m upset and confused with not being as upset as I think I should be. I feel… I feel like I’m not reacting how I should be, considering my past. I never felt like this back then. I was never confused like this.”
“Would you feel differently about last night if it hadn’t been me?”
“Yes.”
“Did I ask for your consent?”
I frowned, “No. And that’s what I’m struggling with. I’m mad at myself for liking it. I’m mad at myself because I should hate you. I need to hate you, Greyson. It doesn’t make sense for me not to hate you.”
“Hate me all you want, little fawn. But, know that I will never stop loving you, never stop needing you. If you need to push me away for your own sanity, I will pull you back every time. I will spend every second of every day of the rest of our lives proving that to you.”
I hesitated, “Do you plan to keep me here forever?”
“Probably not here forever. We might want a house one day,” he stated casually.
I blinked.
“Let me rephrase. You plan to keep me forever?” I probed, doubtful.
“Yes, was that not clear?”
“What if you get bored of me? What if–”
Greyson cut me off, “That won’t happen.”
I massaged my aching temples as I decided to not argue. Looking up at the ceiling in exasperation, I asked, “Are there rules you want me to follow or something? Since I’m your captive and all?”
He smiled in content, seeming happy with my question. “You’re such a good boy for asking, Lane!” I squirmed, still not comfortable with how I had been reacting to that specific praise. “Stay right here for a minute and eat up. I already have a list written up, but I didn’t expect us to be this far along yet, so it’s still in my office.”
Greyson got up from the table and ruffled my hair before disappearing down a different hallway than the one my bedroom was in. Figuring I may as well eat - which had nothing to do with the fact that I fucking loved waffles - I stayed at the table while looking around at my surroundings some more. How did he afford this place on a mental health therapist’s salary? I was pretty sure that they didn’t get paid this well.
This was like CEO money or surgeon money. To be honest, I didn’t quite keep up with which careers pay the highest wages. From what I knew about Greyson’s schedule at the therapy office, I didn’t think he had enough time to have a second job, but maybe it was possible? If he had money, why did he want a boring, broke college kid like me?
At that moment, Greyson walked swiftly back into the kitchen, smiling proudly at my empty plate. I was more focused on the stuffed binder he was holding.
“Is that entire thing filled with rules?” I grimaced, glaring at it.
Greyson chuckled, “No. The rules are just a small section of it.”
I raised my brow. Then, what else was in it?
Greyson cocked his head over towards the living room. “Come on, why don’t we sit on the couch to go over everything?”
I glanced over at the couch and it did look pretty damn comfortable. I nodded at Greyson, scooting back my chair before standing and following him. I curled up in the corner of the couch, sinking back into the plush pillows. Sitting next to me, Greyson handed me a knit blanket, which I gladly cuddled up with. He set the binder on his lap. As he opened it, I watched as he flipped through sections labeled Food, Schedules, and Date Ideas, stopping at the one labeled Rules . I held back my laughter as I realized this man had practically made a school report on “How to Care for Your Captive Boyfriend.”
He flipped a page and handed me the binder. “Here, read these and then we can discuss. I’m open to changes and potentially adding some rules for myself if I think they’re allowable.”
“Alright…” I said, uncertain. As I read through the list, I only became more confused.
Rules for Lane:
Do not lie to Greyson. Do not leave the apartment without Greyson. Take your medications as prescribed. Do not speak and/or message with individuals Greyson has not vetted. Trust Greyson. Do not masturbate. Complete your college coursework on time. Maintain your personal hygiene. If you have questions about anything, ask Greyson. Attend your weekly therapy sessions with Greyson. Do not attempt to self-harm or engage in potentially injurious activities. Only use your provided credit card. Tell Greyson immediately if you need/want something. If you require medical care and Greyson is not home, call 911 first and then Greyson.
Why was this kidnapping so wholesome? Puzzled, I shook my head, handing the binder back to Greyson.
“Thoughts?” He asked, grabbing a pen to presumably make notes.
“Uh… Well, they’re weirdly fine? I’d like a few clarifications, though,” I said, still stumped at Greyson’s weirdness. “Okay, uh… Number two. I understand the rule, but I guess I’m shocked that I’ll be going outside. You’re not worried about me escaping?”
He smiled, “We won’t be going out for a while, but once I feel comfortable enough with your progress, then we can go on dates and trips and stuff.”
“What do you mean by my progress ?”
“The speed of your acclimation to your new life,” he replied, as if that required no additional explanation.
I sighed, moving on to my next question, “Number four - “Message” implies that I’d have access to my phone, right?”
Greyson nodded, “Yes, you should be ready for that pretty soon. I’ll be remotely monitoring your activity on it.”
“Alright, that sounds okay. Oh, and what do you mean by people not vetted by you? I’ll still be able to talk to Oliver, right?”
“Of course. I’ll never fully take away your ability to talk with Oliver or your parents. I’ll also be adding my brothers’ numbers into your contacts. I don’t expect you to need to be in touch with them, but just in case. The rule is mainly for… For example, any of the men you’ve previously tried to have sex with.”
Reasonable enough.
“Number six - Why no masturbation? And how would you realistically enforce that?”
He grinned, a glint of lust in his eye. “You’re mine. Your mind, your heart, and your body. Meaning, I own you. I own your pleasure, your release, your frustration - everything. I will not allow you to be pleasured or hurt by anyone but me, including yourself.” I swallowed a moan, not wanting to show him how his words were affecting me. “I will know if you come without me.”
I slowly nodded, before hesitating, “Wait… you’re planning on hurting me?”
He licked his lips before declaring, “I have particular tastes that I believe you’ll discover you enjoy. Besides that - if you break any of these rules, I will punish you. Those punishments will most likely be painful. Nothing you can’t take, I promise.”
I shuddered slightly, undeniably curious about his particular tastes.
“Okay, um– Number… ten. I’m supposed to still do therapy? Really?” I questioned.
“Ah, yes. It’ll take place in my home office, of course.”
Of course.
“Fine – Number twelve?”
He smiled, “I’ll be giving you your new card in a couple days. No limit on it. I don’t want you using your money or your parents’ money anymore. It’s my job to take care of you, after all.”
“I still don’t understand you, but sure, I’ll use your money. Can I make rules for you now?” He nodded. “Okay, can I have some paper to write on?” Greyson flipped to an empty page before handing the binder and his pen to me.
Greyson’s Rules:
Do not hurt Chloe. Do not kill Lane. Do not lie to Lane. Do not have sex with or romantically see anyone besides Lane. Safe Word: Red
I passed the new list to Greyson, biting my lip. He read the rules I had written quickly, the corners of his mouth tipped up.
He looked over to me, a tender expression on his face, as he stated, “Agreed. I think having a safe word is a very smart idea. Good job.” He leaned over to pat my head. My heart squeezed as I allowed myself to push into his hand.
???
That night, I laid in what I was considering now to be my bed. And while the mattress felt like a cloud, I couldn’t fall asleep. It wasn’t that I was scared to, more so that my brain wouldn’t power down after everything that had happened. Chloe was evidently not suffering from the same issue, fast asleep at the end of the bed. After several hours of tossing and turning, I made a decision to explore the apartment, hoping that I’d tire myself out by walking around for a little while. I slipped out of bed, inwardly cheering to myself when my bedroom door clicked open. He hadn’t locked me in. I peeked out into the darkened hallway, reasoning to myself that if Greyson had wanted me to stay in my room, he would’ve locked the door. Therefore, he hopefully wouldn’t be upset at my exploration.
Padding down the hallway towards the kitchen, hardwood cool against my feet, I stopped as I came across the only other door in my hallway. Trying the doorknob, I rejoiced yet again when it wasn’t locked. I pouted when I looked in and found the laundry. Backing out into the hallway again, I turned and walked the few steps to the large open-concept kitchen and living room space. Pale moonlight filtered in through the windows, softly illuminating the space. As I moved closer to the windows, I saw that we were really high up. While my fear of heights did not appreciate that, my eyes certainly appreciated the gorgeous view of the city below us and the surrounding forested mountains.
Greyson may have been a psychopath with the relationship experience of a middle schooler, but at least he had great taste. I softly smiled as I continued through the apartment. I hesitated briefly before entering the hallway that contained Greyson’s office and - I assumed - his bedroom. I could see a sliver of light coming from beneath one of the doors. Stopping outside of it, I pressed my ear to the door in an attempt to hear what Greyson was up to. The only sound I heard was the distinct click-clack of him typing on a keyboard. Gritting my teeth, I knocked on the door, hoping he wasn’t going to slit my throat for bothering him. The noise ceased.
“Lane? Come in,” he said huskily.
I quickly glanced down at what I was wearing, hoping he wouldn’t take this late-night visit as a seduction attempt. I was covered enough, wearing a very oversized shirt that hung just above my knees. I took a deep breath and opened the door, eyes downcast. I looked up as I crossed into the room. My eyes immediately caught on Greyson, my brain stuttering as I realized it was definitely me that was in danger of being seduced.
His golden hair was ever-so-slightly messy, like he’d been running his fingers through it. His stunning honey eyes shone through a pair of reading glasses, as he looked at me with radiant warmth. To my chagrin, he was shirtless, leaving a mouth-watering expanse of skin and taut muscles on display. To top it all off, because of course, he had on a pair of grey sweatpants.
I wasn’t sure if he’d done his research and was doing this all on purpose, or if he was just naturally oozing pure sexual energy. Either way, I gulped and reminded myself that he was holding me captive, had murdered at least one person, and was crazy. He smirked, catching onto the fact that I was practically salivating at his appearance. He chuckled, gesturing to the spot next to him on the small leather couch he was seated on. I walked over to join him, sitting down with hardly two inches of empty space between us. He shifted towards me, closing his laptop and placing it on the side table beside him.
“What are you doing up?” He asked, throwing his arm over the top of the couch.
I shrugged, trying my hardest to not stare at his bulge. “Just haven’t been able to fall asleep. I wanted to look around a bit,” I said. I wiggled a bit before deciding to pull my legs up and sit cross-legged. “What about you?”
“Honestly, I was looking up recipes you might like,” he shyly chuckled, a slight blush across his cheeks.
“What? Really?”
He grinned, “Yes, really. You’re my responsibility now, so I need to take care of you properly.”
My face flushed, wondering how he could just casually say that.
Biting my lower lip, I said, “I would say you didn’t have to do so much for me, but you’re also the one who kidnapped me, so . ”
He shook his head in laughter. I smiled at the sound.
“Did you need anything? Hot chocolate?”
My eyes widened. “Hot chocolate does sound really good,” I murmured.
Greyson smiled, “Good. Do you want to accompany me to the kitchen or stay here? It shouldn’t take more than a couple of minutes.”
“I’ll stay here–” I paused for a second, “Do you have marshmallows and whipped cream?”
“I do,” he stated, standing up from the couch. Ruffling my hair, he said, “I’ll be back soon, princess.”
As he left the room, my eyes began to wander around. If he had left me alone in here, he must’ve been okay with me looking around. I stood up, walking over to his desk and trailing my fingers over it as I listened to the sounds of him in the kitchen. I couldn’t help the laugh that burst out from me as I saw the framed picture next to his desktop computer.
God save me, because laughing at a picture he’d obviously taken while in my apartment without my knowledge was not a sane thing to do. But there I was, deep asleep, hair tousled on my pillow, Chloe in my arms as the little spoon.
Greyson returned with two mugs as I was reading the titles of the books he had on one of the four bookshelves. He handed me one of the mugs as we both sat back down on the couch.
“Find anything interesting in here?”
I playfully pouted, “No. I was really hoping to find a body or something.”
“Well, you’re out of luck. I never keep the bodies,” he replied with a smirk.
I took a sip of my cocoa as I thought for a moment. “Um… I’m supposed to ask you questions when I have them, right? That was a rule.”
He raised one of his eyebrows, tilting his head. “Yes, you can always ask me anything.”
I tapped my fingers against my mug as I decided. “How did you kill Tate?” I asked hesitantly. Greyson looked at my face, searching for something.
“I cut off his penis and made him choke on it.”
“Oh. I guess that’s fitting,” I muttered. Greyson set his mug down. He moved closer to me on the couch, placing a hand on my bare thigh.
He quietly asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I just– I feel weird about it. Like I’m happy, but also not?” He nodded in understanding, rubbing soothing circles into my skin with his thumb. I sighed, “I kind of wish I could have done it…”
“I’m sorry. I should have considered that.”
“It’s okay. I don’t know if I would have actually been able to go through with it. I mean, I’ve never even slapped someone before. It’s probably best that you just did it yourself. Do you… Do you have a lot of experience with that sort of thing?”
“I do,” he said. “It’s not something I do often anymore. My brothers enjoy it more.”
I frowned, remembering the two men I met in the coffee shop. “Your brothers kill people too?”
“Much more than I ever have. They’re wired slightly differently than I am.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Hayes and Hudson are both psychopaths,” he bluntly stated.
Skeptically, I asked, “And you aren’t?”
Greyson laughed, squeezing my thigh. “No, I’m not. I’m what is referred to as a dark empath,” he explained. “My brothers and I certainly share some traits, but while they lack empathy, I have an abundance. I have high emotional intelligence, so while I can understand others’ deeply, I don’t usually care. Before you ask, yes, I do genuinely care about you. But, I’m not above manipulating your emotions for my personal gain. I do it quite often.”
“Huh. I’m not sure what to say to that,” I replied honestly.
He chuckled, stroking my thigh, “Good boy. I don’t think this conversation is helping with your sleep issue though.” I nodded in agreement, stifling a yawn. “Come on, let’s get you back to your bed, sweetheart.”
Greyson took my mug from me, setting it down beside his own. As he stood, he reached out his hand for mine. Taking it, I let him pull me to my feet. I trudged behind him - hand-in-hand - to my room. He helped me crawl back under the covers before sitting down at the head of the bed next to me.
“Are you going to sleep with me?” I asked, rolling on my side to face him.
“Not tonight. I’ll just stay here until you fall asleep,” he murmured, placing his hand on the top of my head.
“Okay, goodnight,” I whispered as he began gently stroking my hair. Like he said, Greyson sat quietly next to me, petting me and petting me and petting me. I was lulled to sleep, forehead nuzzled into his hip, my only thought being how nice his hand felt in my hair.
???
I lasted several days not acting on my growing feelings towards Greyson. I mean - sexually.
I fell asleep nightly with his hand on my head, stroking my hair. I woke up daily to breakfast with him at the table. I laid my head in his lap when I wanted more attention. I cuddled next to him on the couch as we watched movies with the fireplace crackling. I thoroughly soaked in every touch, every word of praise, every act of service. He hadn’t initiated anything sexually since that first morning. As the days passed by, I began to realize that he was most likely going to wait until I did something about it. Such a polite not- psychopath.
While he was working on his laptop on the couch in the living room, I locked myself into my bedroom to primp. By then, I had already fully gone through my room and the many presents Greyson had apparently started buying for me the night of our first session. Any concerns about him not being attracted to a man as femme as me had evaporated the moment he confessed that my room was carefully decorated to my tastes. The man had literally built me a princess room. The drawers filled with lace and silk lingerie and the makeup he had purchased just for me further cemented his attraction to my feminine side.
I rifled through my drawers and landed on a see-through pastel blue babydoll nightie and a white lace thong. I accessorized with some over-the-knee white socks and a pearl necklace with matching earrings. Settling down at my vanity, I put on a full face of makeup and spritzed a sweet perfume on my wrists. I truly looked like a princess. Well, maybe a princess about to be fucked by the dragon, but I was hoping Greyson would be into that.
Taking a deep breath, I tried to hype myself up as I left my bedroom and began walking towards the living room. He wasn’t facing the hallway, so I tiptoed up to the couch from behind. He quickly glanced up at me as I walked into his frame of sight, jerking his head up as he realized what I was wearing.
He pushed his laptop off of his lap and motioned for me to come to him.
“Lane, I’m not a good person. There’s no backing out once we start,” he said sharply, looking me up and down hungrily.
As soon as I was close enough, he grabbed hold of my wrists and pulled me down onto his lap. He burrowed his head into my neck, sucking harsh kisses into the sensitive skin there.
I let out a soft moan. “I know. I want you to fuck me.” He groaned, biting my shoulder. “I want you, Daddy.” His honey eyes shot up to see the lust brimming in my own .
He smirked before suddenly rising from the couch, my legs wrapped around his low back. I squeaked, not expecting him to be able to lift me so easily. As he began walking us to his bedroom, he kneaded my ass, causing a moan to be drawn out of my throat. He stopped just before the end of his bed. One hand stayed on my ass to support my weight as the other twisted into my hair, yanking my head back. His lips attacked mine, biting and sucking, forcing his tongue into my mouth. He swallowed my needy whines, causing my head to start to go fuzzy with the intensity of his kiss. He pulled off after a sharp bite to my lower lip. I tried to catch my breath, but he threw me onto the bed without warning. I bounced onto the plush mattress and silk sheets.
“Oh, sweetheart, you won’t even remember your own name after I’m done.”