Rule #1
Triumph
There it was.
“I love you too, Glennon.” He smiled and kissed her softly. “All right, we’ll start with one simple rule this time, then renegotiate to add more as we go, okay? So once a rule is in place and agreed to, it stays in place.”
He could tell she was too stunned to speak. He’d just told her the most important thing a woman ever wanted to hear, and he followed it with talking about rules.
And yet… if he taught her anything last night, it was that when she listened to him, did what he said, she had been better off every time.
He recognized she was independent and capable of whatever she wanted to do, but he also understood she needed him to draw the lines because, at heart, she didn’t want to.
“Your rule is to enjoy it. Let me direct. If I want something, I’ll tell you. Just enjoy what happens.”
She frowned. “I never get to lead? Never get to initiate?”
He shook his head. “Not in this. Besides, doesn’t every woman want a man to worship her every moment of every day? To put her at the center of everything?”
She licked her lips. “l agree to the rule.”
Inside, he chuckled. Of course she did. Little did she know that what she’d unleashed would be an all-consuming love of the very best kind.
Without wasting a second, he repositioned himself, and as his lips met hers, he slid inside her, one commanding thrust as deep as he could go.
One hand slid down to her hip, then cradled the outside of her thigh in his palm as he lifted it to guide her leg around his waist. He left it there, holding her tight to him, thrusting and retreating, grinding against her core, and driving her toward orgasm.
Each movement was driven by his desire to make her feel like the superwoman she was.
Occasionally, he felt her muscles shift and twitch, as if she wanted to physically respond or direct him, but then remembered she wasn’t allowed to.
Pride surged through him. She restrained those impulses, quickly relaxing into a passive state, allowing him to love her and focusing only on how he was making her feel.
This wasn’t a natural situation for her, and she would need time to get used to it, but she would.
“Let go, Glennon,” he whispered. “Trust me.”
He waited. Then he waited some more. While he waited, he let his mouth drift over whatever skin he could reach, kneading the muscles that threatened to tense and cramp, until finally her body relaxed.
Too often, the performative aspect of sex made people worry about whether they were doing things right. Were they being sexy enough? Were they touching someone the right way? Were they saying things that spurred their partner on?
He’d always hated how sex became a high-pressure situation.
It was part of why he took that away from her.
Ultimately, it reduced the pressure and would make them both feel better, literally and figuratively.
If she focused on feeling only, she would love it so much more than if she tried to give and receive at the same time.
Glennon could beg. She could scream. She could score her nails down his back or do any other of the typical female moves during sex, but it didn’t guarantee she actually enjoyed what they did.
That wasn't telling him how he made her feel.
It was yet another instance of her giving in to what she thought she was supposed to do.
No. Not with him. Stop with the theatrics and leave him to do the work. If she wasn’t worried about where to put her hands, what to say, what to do, then he could relax and pay attention to what her body naturally told him.
Like now.
She was warm but not perspiring. That meant the room was comfortable.
She was slick. He’d aroused her. He’d turned her on with his words.
Last night, her eyes had dilated while he was speaking to her. She’d bitten her lip to keep words inside. She’d flushed at particular moments. And they’d happened again while she was floating up from sleep, as well as after waking her. All these things were evidence of what she needed.
Better yet, she was boneless beneath him. She was too enthralled by what he was giving her to hurry herself to completion, or him either. She was present. Right in the moment with him. Nothing outside of that mattered.
Levering himself up into a plank position, he gained the needed leverage to move faster, thrust deeper, grind harder, and twist more precisely.
The faster pace and greater pressure elevated her breathing, signaling that her body was working to push blood through her system and increase her lung capacity.
Utilizing the strong balance skills and core muscles he worked so hard at, he left one arm in position as he lowered the other and allowed his thumb to brush across her clit.
Swollen, it pushed out from its hood, a sign that the nerves were stimulated and her pleasure was building her to a breaking point.
“That’s it, little spy. Let it feel good.”
Her sounds pitched higher, her body squeezed him tighter, and her eyes began to lose focus.
When she detonated, he fell down onto her, still careful to keep the bulk of his upper body weight off her.
With each clench of her inner muscles, his cock pulsed and jetted into the condom he’d put on before he woke her.
And as their breathing returned to normal, he kissed her softly, repeatedly.
Slight touches of his lips against her hairline, the shell of her ear, her cheekbone, anywhere he could reach.
Not hurrying. No real pattern of where he planned to go next.
Just touches meant to ease her down and provide her with an anchor so she didn’t drift away into subspace.
When he felt her breathing even out, he once again brushed her hair back on the pillow. “Hi. Welcome back. Feel okay?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
Her arms reached up above her head, and she stretched to full extension. He extended his arms along hers, gently kneading each bone, each muscle, to make sure blood was flowing properly.
“I’m going to get you some water. Stay here.”
Gently, he eased off her body and padded to the kitchen, where he disposed of the condom. After quickly wiping himself down and washing his hands, he removed a bottle of water from the refrigerator.
When he returned, she was still exactly where he left her.
Too blissed out and relaxed to move. He grinned.
Job well done on his part. He could always tell her not to move, but it was so much better when her body let itself naturally follow what it needed, which was why he told her things in the first place.
Permission to do what was needed without guilt or second-guessing.
Before going back to bed, he went into the bathroom and started the shower.
Towels out, water warming, he went back to the bed.
“C’mon, woman. Up ya go.” He grabbed her wrists to pull her upright, then helped her slide to sit on the edge.
After unscrewing the cap, he handed her the bottle.
“Drink. Slow, but at least a third of it.”
As she drank, he grabbed their clothes from the floor and dropped them in the laundry hamper. “What do you want to wear to bed?”
He heard the lilt of teasing in her voice when she asked, “Is nothing an option?”
Crossing over to her, he swiped the bottle from her hand, downing a large amount of water in two swallows. He capped the bottle and put it on the nightstand. “You wearing nothing is always an option, as far as I’m concerned. Let’s go. Into the shower so we can get some sleep.”
It was a fight to keep himself from pushing her up against the wall in the shower, but he managed.
There was going to be a discussion in a few minutes that he wasn’t sure how it would go, and he didn’t want his dick to interfere.
Instead, he kept to his end of the shower and let her take care of what she needed to do.
Afterward, he pulled on a pair of loose sleep pants while he watched her crawl across the bed naked and slip under the sheets to sit up against the headboard. “So no options for another round?” she asked, eyeing the pants.
He chuckled. “Again, always an option. However, I was going to be a gentleman and not maul you again tonight since this dynamic is new for us, plus you’re coping with being home.” He slipped in beside her. “And believe it or not, I am one of those weirdos who can’t sleep naked.”
“You can’t sleep naked?”
“Nope.”
“But… what if you just had sex?” She gestured to the bed as if to say, “Like we just did.”
He ran his hands through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly to air out the strands.
“Well, I guess, to be honest, I’ve never slept in a bed with anyone other than you.
Not sure that it makes a difference.” He shrugged.
“Guess we’ll have to test it at some point when I might not have to hop out of bed in an emergency. ”
Her mouth dropped open slightly. The stunned-silent look on her face was kind of cute.
“Wait, hold on. I’m the only woman who’s been in your bed?”
“Yep.”
“Okay, so I get that. Men are territorial, and a woman in your bed implies you want them to stay. But you’ve slept in other women’s beds, right?”
He shook his head. “Nope.”
“But you’ve had a lot of sex, I’m guessing.”
“Don’t need to be in a bed to have sex, Glennon.”
She stared at him.
“You’ve never had sex in a bed?” She held a strand of hair in her hand, brushing the ends back and forth across her lips. “What about girlfriends?”
“What about them?”
“You’ve never slept with any of your girlfriends?”
“I don’t count high school because that’s a whole different thing, but I should warn you, I used to date our friend Panama.
You haven’t met her yet. Short version is that it was an amicable split at graduation when I went to the NSA and she stayed here.
We were each other’s firsts, and we were typical high school kids, so it didn’t happen in a bed.
“There are no feelings there anymore other than friendship, on either side, and haven’t been since we broke up.
” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, when I first went off to work for the NSA, I was working way too many hours to even think about having sex, let alone going out and finding it. When Cosmos introduced me to the BDSM stuff, my first partner was on a contract. It’s common in the lifestyle for people, especially if they’re learning, to sign a contract of exclusivity with someone to keep the waters less murky.
“I was with her during the run of my time in Chicago. When I went back to Washington, I had two different contracts with two different women, both of who were lovely people, but none of us were looking to spend time with each other outside the club scene. Otherwise, all my partners have had quite a bit of space between them, were one-offs, and all happened at the club.”
“I honestly don’t know how to process that.”
He rolled his head to his right to look at her. “Nothing to process. At least, I don’t think so.”
“How does this”—she waved a hand between them—“even begin to work, then?”
“There are committed couples in this type of dynamic who hang out at the club. I’ve never asked them how it works for them. There’s not a whole lot of conversation that happens there. At least, I haven’t been part of any.” He frowned. “There probably is in the bar area, but I never hang out there.”
“You’re just as bad as me, aren’t you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Isolating yourself to just a few people. Keeping your circle small insulates you. You always know what to expect, so no surprises.”
“You were definitely a surprise and not part of my circle.”
She laughed and gave him a soft shove. “But was I really? You kept that phone all these years. Why? The thing had to be ancient. I mean, I suppose you could have transferred the number to a newer phone, but I’d be willing to bet you didn’t.”
“No,” he admitted. “It was the same phone.” He scooted down in the bed, low enough to rest his head on her shoulder.
“Tripoli and Francesca said something eerily similar. Maybe I was hoping you’d call, even all these years later.
Holding onto the old phone was holding onto a physical representation of you. ”
Her body swayed into his as she leaned down to kiss the top of his head, and her arm went around his neck. Her fingers twined in a curled end. “I’m so glad you did.”
Silence held in the room for a long while, and when he felt her fingers stop moving, he finally looked up at her. Eyes closed. Dead asleep. Smiling, he slipped from beneath her arm and lowered her to the mattress. She was so exhausted she didn’t even stir.