Chapter 12 #2
"If something feels wrong but you don't want to stop completely?"
"Yellow."
"Good." He reaches out and takes my hands. "Tonight is about you. Your pleasure, your discovery. I'm going to push you, but only as far as you want to go. And I'm going to check in. Frequently. Until I know your body well enough to read it."
"Okay."
"Say it back to me. What's your safeword?"
"Red."
"What happens when you say it?"
"Everything stops."
"And if you say yellow?"
"We slow down and talk."
He lifts my hands to his mouth and kisses my knuckles. "Good girl."
The praise warms me from the inside out. Not shame. Not the twisted echo of what Craig used to say. Just warmth. Approval. Safety.
"Stand up."
I do.
"Take off your clothes. Slowly. I want to watch."
My fingers tremble as I reach for the hem of my sweater, but not from fear.
From anticipation. I pull it over my head and let it fall to the floor.
My bra follows, the clasp releasing with a soft click.
Then my jeans, sliding down my hips, pooling at my ankles.
I step out of them. My underwear is last—I hook my thumbs in the waistband and push them down, standing bare before him.
His eyes travel over me, dark and hungry but patient. Appreciative without being predatory.
"Beautiful," he murmurs. "Turn around. Slowly."
I rotate, feeling his gaze on every inch of my skin. When I'm facing him again, there's a flush of heat across my chest that has nothing to do with embarrassment.
"On the bed. Face up. Arms above your head."
I obey, settling onto the cool sheets, stretching my arms toward the headboard. Will moves to the wall and returns with a set of leather cuffs lined with soft fabric. He fastens them around my wrists with practiced efficiency, then clips them to a point above the headboard.
"Pull."
I do. There's no give. I'm pinned in place.
"How does that feel?"
I test the restraints again, feeling the leather hold firm against my straining wrists. "Vulnerable."
"Is that a problem?"
"No." And it isn't. Not with him watching me like I'm something precious. "It feels right."
"Color?"
"Green."
He smiles, slow and predatory, and heat pools between my thighs. "Then we're just getting started."
He doesn't touch me right away. He stands at the edge of the bed, fully clothed, just looking. The anticipation builds with every second, my skin prickling with awareness, my nipples hardening under his gaze alone.
"You're already responding," he observes. "Just from me watching you."
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
I hesitate, unsure what he wants. "Yes... Sir?"
"Sir is fine. For now. When I earn it, and when we're playing, I prefer Master." He reaches out and traces one finger down the center of my body, from the hollow of my throat to my navel. I shiver. "But I like that you asked."
He circles my nipple without touching it, close enough that I can feel the heat of his finger. I arch toward him, desperate for contact.
"Stay still."
I force my body back down, trembling with the effort.
"Good girl." He rewards me by pinching my nipple, a sharp twist that sends a bolt of sensation straight to my core. I gasp. "You like that?"
"Yes."
He does it again, harder. The pain blooms into pleasure, spreading through my chest. "More?"
"More."
He works both nipples now, pinching and rolling until they're swollen and sensitive. Every touch makes me squirm against the restraints, makes me wetter, makes me needier. When he finally lowers his mouth to one peaked bud and sucks, I cry out.
"Quiet," he says against my skin. "You don't make a sound unless I tell you to."
I bite my lip, swallowing the moan that wants to escape. He rewards my obedience by trailing his mouth lower, kissing down my ribs, my stomach, the jut of my hip bone. His breath is hot against my inner thigh, so close to where I need him.
"Open your legs."
I spread them, shameless, desperate.
He settles between my thighs but doesn't touch me where I'm aching. Instead, he presses kisses to the crease of my thigh, the sensitive skin just beside my folds, everywhere but where I need him most.
"Will." His name slips out before I can stop it.
"Did I say you could speak?"
I shake my head.
"That's the second time you've broken the rules tonight." His voice is calm but firm. "I don't punish during a first scene—we're still learning each other. But you should know that willful disobedience has consequences. Down the road, if you break a rule, there will be discipline. Understood?"
I swallow hard, a shiver running through me that has nothing to do with fear. "Understood."
"Good. Now be quiet. And be patient. You get what I give you, when I give it to you."
The waiting is its own kind of torture. I'm dripping, clenching around nothing, my hips trying to tilt toward his mouth without conscious permission. He notices and presses one hand flat against my lower belly, pinning me in place.
"I said stay still."
I whimper but obey.
"Color?"
"Green," I breathe. "So green."
He rewards me then, finally, his tongue sliding through my folds in one long, slow stroke. The sensation is so intense after all the buildup that I nearly scream. I catch it at the last second, turning it into a strangled gasp.
"Good," he murmurs against me. "Very good."
He licks me slowly, learning my responses. When his tongue circles my clit, I jerk against the restraints. When he slides two fingers inside me and crooks them just right, my back arches off the bed.
"You can make noise now," he says. "I want to hear you."
The moan that escapes me is raw and desperate. He works me with his mouth and fingers, building me toward a peak I can feel approaching like a wave. Higher and higher, muscles tensing, breath coming in sharp gasps.
And then he stops.
"No," I gasp. "Please, don't stop—"
"You come when I say you can." He pulls back, his chin slick with my arousal, his eyes dark. "Not before."
I want to scream with frustration. Instead, I nod, chest heaving, body trembling.
He gives me a minute to come down. Then he starts again. His mouth on my clit, his fingers inside me, building me right back to that peak. And again, just before I crest, he pulls away.
"Will, please—"
"Please what?"
"Please let me come. I need—I need—"
"Tell me what you need."
"You. Inside me. Please, I can't—"
He stands and strips off his shirt, revealing the hard planes of his chest, the ridged muscle of his stomach. His jeans follow, and then he's naked, thick and hard and ready for me. He climbs onto the bed and positions himself between my thighs.
"Eyes on me," he commands. "Don't look away."
I lock my gaze on his as he notches himself at my entrance. He pushes in slowly, inch by inch, stretching me until I feel impossibly full. When he's seated to the hilt, he pauses, letting me adjust.
"Color?"
"Green." My voice shakes. "God, Will, green."
He pulls back and drives in again, setting a rhythm that's slow but deep. Each thrust hits that spot inside me that makes my vision white out. My wrists strain against the cuffs, my body arching to meet him, but I keep my eyes on his face like he ordered.
"That's it," he says, his voice rough. "Take everything I give you."
The pleasure builds again, sharper now, more urgent. His hand slides between us and finds my clit, rubbing in tight circles that match his thrusts.
"You've been so good for me tonight," he says. "So obedient. So perfect."
The praise pushes me higher. I'm right there, teetering, desperate.
"You want to come?"
"Yes. Please."
"Then let go. Give me everything."
The orgasm crashes through me like a wave. My whole body seizes, clenching around him, pleasure radiating through every nerve. I scream his name, not caring who might hear, lost in the overwhelming release.
He follows seconds later, driving deep and shuddering against me, my name torn from his throat.
For a long moment, neither of us moves. We stay connected, breathing hard, hearts pounding in sync.
Then Will reaches up and unclips the restraints. He rubs circulation back into my wrists, pressing kisses to the faint red marks left by the leather. He wraps me in a soft blanket and pulls me against his chest, murmuring praise against my hair.
"So good. You were so good for me. I've got you. You're safe."
He produces water and makes me drink. Runs gentle hands over my skin to check for any marks. Asks again and again how I'm feeling.
"Safe," I tell him. "Whole. Like I finally found the piece of myself I thought Craig destroyed."
His arms tighten around me. "He didn't destroy anything. He just made it harder to find."
We lie together in the dim room, the light low and warm around us, and I feel something shift into place. Something final.
"I love you." The words feel different now, after what we just shared. Truer somehow. More real. "I know I said it before, but I needed you to hear it again. Before tomorrow."
Will tilts my chin up to look at him. "You know when I knew? Really knew?"
"When?"
"Sarah's funeral. You stood next to me at the grave, and you didn't say anything. You just stayed. Everyone else was full of platitudes and condolences, but you were just... there." His thumb strokes my cheek. "I didn't understand what I was feeling then. I do now."
Tears prick my eyes. "Will..."
"I love you, Gemma Holloway. Whatever happens tomorrow, whatever comes after, that's not going to change."
I kiss him, soft and slow, pouring everything I feel into it.
When we finally leave The Forge, the night air is cool and sharp with salt from the ocean. Will's hand is warm in mine, our fingers intertwined.
The day after tomorrow, I face Craig. Tonight, I have this—Will's hand in mine, salt air on my skin, and a strength I didn't know I had.