You Woke Me Up to Do What?
Glennon
Her brain was scrambled. Everything was hazy around the edges.
His voice sounded like it traveled down a long-distance connection, hollow and with a slight metallic clink to it.
Even his touch felt strange, like his hands were on her skin, yet she felt like she was outside her body.
Not above it, not next to it. More like… inside it as a disembodied entity.
She didn’t know how else to rationalize it.
A feather pillow cradled her head. Crisp, cotton sheets cooled her fevered skin.
Her hands lay at her sides, and her legs hung over the edge of the bed comfortably at the knees.
A gentle swish of air passed over her skin every other second, and her eyes focused on the ceiling fan spinning above her.
Smooth hands fitted themselves in the crook of her knees and lifted her legs until her feet were planted on the edge of the mattress.
A finger gently traced through her creases and the dew slipping from her core. “Look at this pretty, pretty pussy. So wet still.” The voice mesmerized her with its deep huskiness as he marveled at her. Warm air burst across her lower lips. “I wonder… does it taste as wonderful as it smells?”
Hands slid from her ankles to her calves, kneading the muscles.
Palms settled on the insides of her knees, and his shoulders muscled their way between her legs, spreading them wider and causing her feet to slip on the sheets.
Before her legs dropped, his hands rested beneath her thighs, cupped them in his soft palms, then resettled her legs over his shoulders.
Those same hands smoothed up the inside of her calves to her thighs until they framed her pussy, the thumbs pulling back the lips to reveal her entrance.
The next thing she felt was a soft, yet firm, swath through her folds, starting at her opening and swirling around her clit.
“Mmm.” The vibration of his hummed, nonverbal enjoyment cascaded through her nerve endings.
“So fucking spicy,” he murmured as he licked, kissed, and nibbled the flesh exposed to him.
“How am I going to avoid devouring you every day?”
His tongue continued its sensual assault.
Each stroke was an earthquake, disrupting her soul.
The firm pressure stimulated the blood flow.
The repeated swirls kept her nerve endings on high alert.
The brief suction between his teeth gave her just a hint of pain to prevent her from toppling over the edge.
Yet with each action, he drove her closer and closer.
Just as she was about to slip over into the sweetest orgasm imaginable, he stopped.
What?
She heard herself mewl in frustration, barely holding back a curse word or twelve. The bastard.
“Sorry, little spy. I needed you awake for this conversation, and once I thought about waking you up with my tongue on you, no other method was acceptable.”
Yes, yes, yes, please, go back to that, was all she heard in her head.
“Are you with me?” he murmured.
“I’d rather be coming on your face, but yes, I’m with you.”
Wow. That sounded grouchy even to her.
He chuckled. The vibrations rippled through the inside of her thigh, where his lips were gently suckling the soft skin, and produced a series of shock waves to the rest of her body. Who taught men this shit? And why weren’t all men in the know?
“Are you seriously waking me up after the best sex ever to talk? Isn’t that a bit of gender role reversal?”
He knelt upright and slid his hands beneath her back. Helping her sit up, he left his arms wound loosely around her waist while he looked up at her in the haziness of waking from her post-coital nap.
“You weren’t asleep longer than an hour. I planned to let you recharge, but I couldn’t wait anymore.”
Now she was awake.
“What is it?” she asked worriedly.
His hand reached up to pull her bottom lip free of her teeth. She hadn’t even realized she was biting it.
“I need you to be mine.”
There was something about how he said the word “mine.” Like it had a meaning beyond what the dictionary could impart. Her skin flushed and broke out into a slow burn.
As if he heard her brain tumbling through its scattered thoughts, attempting to understand what he meant, he explained further.
“Being mine isn’t just about being in a recognized relationship with me.
It means more than riding on the back of my bike or living with me.
Hell, it’s more than wearing my ring or a piece of ink tattooed on your skin that reflects me.
Although all of those things will happen, Glennon. ”
Broad, strong hands smoothed around her waist, gripping her just above her hip bones, and slid her into the middle of the bed before covering her body with his. Their sexes lined up, his hard shaft against her mound, as he braced himself on his forearms beside her head.
“I need you to focus on what I’m telling you. I’m not demanding submission from you. It’s not mine to take. Everyone else has taken from you. I refuse to do that. But I am asking for it.”
His eyes bored into hers, the intensity clearing away the final remnants of fogginess and delivering absolute awareness to every inch of her skin where they touched, demanding every microscopic bit of her focus.
“There’s a symmetry in this type of relationship that doesn’t exist in others.
Both parties give up some of themselves to help the other flourish.
Without that sacrifice, neither individual feels complete.
But what each side sacrifices is different in each relationship.
That’s what many don’t understand about a Dominant/submissive paradigm. ”
Gentle hands brushed back the hair from her face, making sure nothing obstructed her from seeing his sincerity, ensuring she was completely with him in this moment.
“If you become mine, you give me your submission. You give it,” he emphasized.
“It’s a gift. Precious. Fragile. Important.
Beautiful. If I become yours, it means I take care of that gift, no matter the cost to me.
Because if I take it for granted, break it, neglect it, make it ugly, then the relationship becomes ownership. ”
He waited, as if allowing his words to sink in.
When he didn’t see her struggling to understand or fighting to keep from saying something, he continued, “To belong to each other means we both help each other achieve what we can’t do on our own.
To make the other feel capable of rising and soaring when we feel like we can barely move.
To help carry the load of the bad, not to carry it for each other.
To make sure we never feel like less because we are everything to each other. ”
He’d already wormed his way into her defenses. Now, his words brought down the walls—not with a thunderous crash and a pile of rubble to scramble over because freedom was in view, but by meticulously stripping away each brick in the wall and clearing the path before her.
“I can’t promise everything will be perfect.
But I promise you this, Glennon. Be mine, and even the bad will be better.
You may feel sadness, anger, and frustration at times, but because you share those emotions with me, they will be so much less since you don’t have to feel them alone.
You may struggle, but I will struggle alongside you.
And I may frustrate you by being everywhere in your life, but it will never be because I worry you can’t survive on your own.
It will be because I never, ever want you to feel alone again. ”
She’d been ignored for so long. Invisible. Expendable. She’d been without for so long, she’d even become ignored, invisible, and expendable to herself.
Now? Triumph was offering her the only thing she ever wanted. The only thing she needed. To be important to someone.
“Be mine, Glennon.”
It wasn’t a question, but it did require her to speak. “I already am, Triumph.”
This was it. Time to lay everything on the line.
She drew in a deep breath.
“I love you.”