Chapter 20 #2
I’m stunned by the weight of her words. “I’ve never known a man like that.”
Brielle leans in, eyes lit with something fierce. “Exactly. These types of men don’t get off on their own pleasure. They fuck for yours. Your body becomes the altar, and every thrust is devotion, obsession, and worship.”
I nod, trying to take it all in. “He didn’t just take my body. He gave something back. Something deep and real. He claimed me, yet he handled me with care. Like I wasn’t just a fuck. Like I was his.”
Brielle gives a slow, approving nod. “They always do. It’s twisted and dark. But in the bedroom, it’s beauty and violence in perfect balance.”
Beauty and violence in perfect balance. What a fitting description.
I trace the rim of my glass. “I’ve never had sex that centered on me.” A slow smile spreads. “I never knew a man could be this way.”
Brielle leans forward. “Once you get a taste, it’s addictive. You hunger for his worship and praise because it validates every inch of you.”
Heat curls low as confidence blooms in my chest. “Yeah… I’d be up for more of that.”
She nods, lifting her glass. “Tell me he stayed. That he didn’t wreck your pussy and then vanish.”
“He held me and whispered things in my ear afterward. Told me I was his. And I was perfect.” I smile, remembering his voice. “He said I got under his skin. That I made him want to smile.”
“You’ve only scratched the surface with him, babe. The next time, tell him exactly what you want. Make him earn it.”
I let out a soft laugh. “The man already knows what to do. He was three steps ahead of me the whole time.”
It seems like he knows my body better than I do, what I’ll crave before I even feel it. Where to touch. How hard. How slow.
Brielle tucks a dark curl behind her ear, eyes sparkling. “You should try a resistance scene. The pretend struggle is unreal.”
Heat flares in my chest at the thought. “I think I’d enjoy that. The idea of saying no. Fighting him a little before giving in. The adrenaline of it.”
Brielle grins and lights up. “The struggle, the pushback, the moment he overpowers you—it’s hot as hell. It’s my favorite kink.”
My pulse kicks. “So I pretend I don’t want it and fight him?”
She nods, eyes gleaming. “Exactly. And that’s why the two of you work. He’s perfect for that kind of game.”
Yes will always mean yes. No will always mean no.
But for everything in between, there will be a cue.
A word or phrase of our choosing. One that tells me your fight is part of the dance.
That you’re still with me. Still hungry.
Still consenting. A phrase only we understand.
One that gives you room to struggle because that’s how you want it, while still telling me you’re in it.
Willing. Craving. It’s your verbal consent, Laurette.
Coded and clear. Yours to give and mine to obey.
The words can be anything you choose, Laurette. Something that makes you feel safe and in control. You’ll say it when you’re giving me permission to take what I want, even while you fight me. Your body might resist, but those words will tell me the truth. That you want it. That I have your consent.
Silent surrender.
“We already have a code for it.”
“Perfect. That’s your entry into the game.”
Game. That word lingers in my head, but not flippantly. This isn’t just play—it’s discovery, and I’m ready for more. I want to see how far B will take me. What else he’ll unlock. What other parts of me he already sees that I haven’t even named yet.
“I haven’t texted or spoken to him since last night. I want to, but I’m scared. What if it’s too much or too soon? What if I scare him off?”
Brielle leans forward, placing a warm hand on mine. “Listen to me. If you hint you want more—he won’t come. He’ll run.”
I’m grateful for her knowledge and fierce loyalty. “So I should text him? Even though it seems forward as fuck?”
“One hundo,” she says, eyes gleaming. “Send the code for resistance play. He’ll know what to do. You can thank me later.”
I nod. “I want this—to fight and surrender and come undone all over again.”
Brielle beams. “Then do it, damn it.”
I pull the burner phone from my bag, thumb hovering over the screen. The weight of what I’m about to do settles in my chest.
10:00 p.m. Front door unlocked.
Lights off except for a single candle.
Silent surrender.
When I slide my thumb over Send, every part of me buzzes with nervous excitement. It’s terrifying—and exactly what I need.
My heart is an explosion behind my ribs as it delivers. I close my eyes and whisper, “I sent it.”
I stare at the screen, willing it to light up. One second. Two. Nothing.
My stomach flips.
What if he doesn’t respond?
What if that text shifts something, or ruins it, or makes it real in the wrong way?
Then he texts me back a single emoji.
I cover my mouth with my hand. “Oh shit. What have I done?”
I turn the burner phone toward Brielle. She grins and lets out a low whistle.
“Girl, he’s gonna fuck you so deep you’ll taste him when you breathe.”
Fuck.