Chapter 17 #2
He’ll see my car out front so I’m sure he won’t keep me waiting too long once he gets home.
Which I think will be any minute, so I need to get into position.
This whole situation will be even sexier if I’m already naked when he walks in, so I strip, fold my clothes, and put them off to the side on his dresser.
Then I drop to my knees to wait. The carpet is rougher than I expected.
I ignore it though, straightening my back, resting my hands on my thighs, and lowering my eyes to the floor like the article said.
It’s simple. So simple.
Except the longer I sit here waiting for him, the more I question if this is even a good idea.
I shift slightly, feeling exposed in more ways than one.
What if I’m trying to force a dynamic because he wouldn’t fill out the stupid kink sheet?
Maybe this is me overcompensating or trying to prove something to myself, and John’s not going to be into it at all.
But then I really think about it, imagining the moment John walks in and sees me, how surprised—and hopefully excited—he’ll be that I’m choosing to give him the control I think he’s after. It’s a pretty intense visual, me kneeling, waiting for him to have his way with me.
I’m already getting hard, and I know I’m exactly where I want to be. John loves control, and I love giving it to him, so I think this is a great idea.
The sound of his car pulling into the driveway cuts through the silence and my thoughts, exciting me even more. I have to physically force myself to stay perfectly still. I don’t move a muscle, not even a twitch, as I hear the front door open, and his footsteps echo across the floorboards.
“Chad?” John calls out, but I don’t respond as the anticipation of being here, waiting for him to come home and claim me in the way I hope, thrums in my veins.
I can hear him setting something down, probably in the kitchen.
“Chad?” he calls again, louder this time, but I still don’t respond.
I press my palms a little flatter against my thighs to keep from fidgeting. My knees are starting to ache, but that almost helps. It keeps me focused on why I’m here. John will see me like this any second.
“Chad, I know you’re here,” John calls out a third time, and ignoring him is hard. So hard. Harder than my dick. I get why the article said they like to wait by the front door, but he finally starts making his way up the stairs.
This is it.
This is the moment where I find out if I completely misread him or if I’m about to unlock something new between us.
The bedroom door opens, and I’m met with a grunt that’s distinctly John.
I don’t look up or break my position. If I look at him, and he’s not staring at me with heat in his gaze, I’ll crumble.
So I stay exactly where I am, back straight, eyes down, breathing as slowly as I can.
My cock is rock hard from the anticipation and the weight of his gaze.
The entire room feels like it could explode with tension as John steps closer to me, his feet coming right into my line of vision.
“You wanna tell me what this is?” he asks calmly.
I swallow nervously, but I don’t look up. “I thought we could try something from the list.”
He doesn’t answer right away, just leaves me sweating in another long silence. I can feel his eyes on me, and it makes my skin feel electric. The intensity between us is palpable, and I don’t know if my dick has ever been harder without even touching anything.
“Did you come up with this idea yourself?” he finally asks.
“I did some research online.”
A faint exhale that might be amusement comes from his lips. “And what are you hoping happens next?”
What am I hoping happens next? That you want me like this. That this brings us closer.
“I thought…” I start, then stop. My throat feels tight because I’m so uncertain.
Without seeing his face, I can’t be positive how he’s feeling, though I think I’m picking up on a hint of breathiness from him.
I force myself to continue. I’m committed to this idea, and I want to do it right. “I thought maybe you’d like it.”
The room feels like it shifts slightly as he steps closer. My heart is erratic, beating faster than it ever has in my life.
“Look at me,” he commands in a firm tone, and I do. Relief hits me when I see he’s looking at me with obvious lust in his gaze, not a single hint of mocking. Only respect. “You think I’d like you submitting to me like this?”
I nod once. “Yes, Sir.” The title rolls off my tongue without much thought; it was one I saw a few times in my research earlier, and I think I like it.
Some of the other names mentioned for the dominant role seemed a little too extreme for me to use casually.
I don’t think I could call John my “Daddy” or “Master” and keep a straight face.
But the confident way he carries himself, his commanding presence, the way he usually seems a little pissed off at the world, all those things easily fit with my idea of someone I’d call “Sir.” It’s hot, actually.
“And you?” he asks me seriously. “Did you like waiting for me like this?”
I hesitate for a second, remembering the momentary doubts I had, but then I think about how much I’m loving it now.
How hard I am. The hungry look in his eye and how sexy I feel kneeling for him.
How amazing it is to have his full attention on me, and I nod again.
“Yes, I think so. I like the anticipation, waiting to see how you’d react, wondering what you’ll want me to do.
I like that you’re giving me your attention now.
I like the idea of doing whatever you want me to, of being the one to make you happy. ”
The words hang between us for a few moments before John finally says, “Okay,” in a calm tone that’s edged with something darker now.
“And how far do you want to take this, Chad? Because you broke into my house.” My pulse somehow jumps higher at him calling me out.
“And I think you deserve to be punished for that. Don’t you? ”
The word punished shouldn’t make even more blood rush to my dick like that, but it does. My brain jumps to all the things I marked on my sheet—spanking, biting, marking, the hot wax, gagging—and I can’t help but wonder what he’ll choose.
I’m not sure how closely he looked at my answers, but I trust John. I don’t think he’d take things further than I’m comfortable with, and I know he’d stop if I ask. I swallow, holding his gaze. “Maybe,” I say, kind of loving how bratty I sound.
His eyebrow lifts slightly. His expression is serious, but I catch the hint of amusement shining in his gaze as he repeats my answer. “Maybe?”
He’s still fully clothed while I kneel naked at his feet, and the contrast makes the tension between us even more intense. I force myself not to look away. “I knew you’d see my car. That you’d know I was here.”
“That’s not the point.” His hand moves to my jaw, thumb pressing just enough to tilt my face up higher.
“The point is that you came into my house without permission.” My breath hitches, but I bite my tongue, stay silent, and let him scold me while also feeling so giddy about it. “You wanted my attention?”
“Yes,” I answer immediately. It comes out all breathy, but the waiting is killing me. I need him to touch me.
“Well, you’ve got it.” He slowly undoes his belt, and my gulp feels like sandpaper as I attempt to swallow. Everything feels so much more intense right now after all this build up. “Don’t move unless I tell you to.”
I nod, holding his gaze.
“That means you’re not allowed to touch yourself.” My stomach tightens with the thrill of his commands. “I’m going to edge you, Chad. And if I see your hands move, we start over.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He inhales deeply as if he’s trying to steady himself. I love knowing I’m the one who has him so worked up. “Give me a color, Chad.”
I don’t hesitate. “Green.”
The corners of his lips curve up. “Good. Now, here’s what’s going to happen. I have work to do, so I am going to sit in that chair and finish a quote for a new project.”
That’s… not what I was expecting. My mouth falls open, but before I can protest, he continues.
“You’re going to crawl to me.”
Oh. Holy fucking shit. Holy fucking shit!
It’s happening!
My eyes widen, and I try to tamp down my excitement about this as I nod again.
John walks over to his desk to pull the chair out so it faces out into the room.
He opens his laptop on his desk beside him, adjusting it so he can look at it from the chair.
I stay still, waiting for his command, as I watch him strip out of his pants but leave his boxers on.
He’s hard and straining against the black fabric as he sits, making sure I have room to crawl to him between his legs.
He starts working, ignoring me, and the anticipation is killing me. I’m so eager to go to him, but that isn’t what he wants, so I stay still, submitting, waiting, until he finally opens his mouth.
“Crawl to me, Princess.”
I drop my hands from their positions on my thighs and slowly make my way over to him on all fours.
It’s weird. I can’t say I’ve ever really fantasized about crawling around for someone.
But as I look up at John, at his tattoos and piercings and the take-no-shit expression on his face, the fact that he’s working right now on something no doubt very technical that I would have no clue about, I’m reminded of how much I respect him, how in awe of him I am.