“I think I’ve just transcended to the afterlife.”
“If I can still hear you, I think you’re still in this one,” he chuckles.
“Semantics,” I borrow his earlier word.
“Cheeky baker.”
“I already told you. It’s donut dominatrix,” I joke.
He chuckles.
“Damn, Everly, that pussy of yours. Oomph,” he exhales. “You know I’m going to need seconds. And thirds. And a fourth time for good measure.”
“You’re crazy. I’ll never survive.”
“You didn’t think you’d survive the first round and you did. Beautifully.”
“So I didn’t suck?” I ask.
He pulls away from me. His knitted eyebrows suggest he isn’t impressed with my question. “Please tell me I wasn’t the only one who thought that was intense,” his voice wraps around me like a lover’s caress.
“It was incredible. Scratch that. It was mind-blowing. Soul-shaking. Earth-shattering.” I pause, casting my gaze where we’re still connected. “But maybe it was only me—”
“I can’t fake an orgasm. I came hard because I wanted you so damn much.” My cheeks burn up. “So to answer your question, it was as powerful for you as it was for me.”
Holt runs his strong hands up and down my back and it reminds me he still has full control. He hasn’t untied my hands yet and I’m in no rush to ask.
“Really?”
He leans in and takes my lips in a soft and languid kiss. This is dramatically different from the way he ravished my mouth a few minutes ago.
“Really,” he whispers when he pulls away from me.
I beam.
“Since we’re exchanging compliments and all. Your cock is pretty impressive.”
“Is it?”
I can’t tell you how my stomach does somersaults at his boyish smile.
“You surely didn’t overpromise. You do have mad skills, Mr. Christensen.”
He laughs.
“I told you.”
“You did,” I smile shyly.
“Thanks for trusting me.”
“It felt right.”
“I agree.” He pauses. “Which begs the question…” he lets his words trail.
“I’m afraid to ask which one,” I say.
“You’re such a responsive lover—”
“I am?”
“I don’t recall any other donut dominatrix coming all over my cock. Not to mention the way you clenched me like a vice. I had no other choice but to tip over with you.”
“You’re hilarious.”
“I barely stroked your clit and you were already climaxing.”
“I’m still in awe how easily you did that.”
“Trade secret.”
“Funny.”
“Seriously, Everly. How did you end up with missionary-fan-straight-laced-polo-boy?”
I really didn’t see that one coming.
I can’t help but laugh.
“It’s a long story.”
“If you’d rather not share, I understand,” he says.
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to determine how much I’m willing to tell him.
“I can see it’s a sore subject—”
“I’m not willing—I guess I should say I’m not ready—to talk about everything, but I can share parts of it—”
“I’m okay with that,” he tells me.
“I’ve already started telling you about Dalton, I might as well tell you the rest.”
“Dalton?”
“Dalton Miles Conley Akesdotter III.”
“Pompous name,” Holt says.
“Pompous ex. That said, his mother, Sieglinde Beatrice Mathilda Montserrat—and those are all her first names—wins gold when it comes to being pretentious.” Bitch.
“This should be interesting.”
“Oh, it’s a bundle of laughs.” The sarcasm is very present in my voice.
“Let me remove your shackles and you can tell me all about Dalton and Mommy Sieglinde.”
“Thank you, master. I don’t deserve your kindness.”
“Has anybody ever told you that you have an underlying unsatisfied kink?”
We both laugh.
Holt places his hands underneath my armpits, lifts me up like I weigh nothing more than a feather and drops me to my feet.
“You’re still so wet.” His eyes shine dark in the moonlight as he watches my face. “And your heady scent…” he says, drawing a finger along my wetness, causing me to whimper.
“Ah,” I gasp. “You’re playing dirty.”
He squints his eyes and without warning sticks his finger between his lips and sucks on it while making these lewd noises. “Now I’m playing dirty,” he says.
God, it’s so naughty when he does that.
Is it wrong to admit I absolutely love it?
“Are you going to untie me now?” I ask.
“Or what, donut dominatrix? You’ll crack your whip?” he grins.
His tone is mocking, but he unties my wrists.
To my great surprise, he doesn’t let go of my hands. Instead, he starts massaging my wrists in slow soothing motions.
“That’s very sweet of you,” I say.
“Thank you for the compliment, but it has nothing to do with me being sweet. It’s just me being a responsible dom,” he winks.
“Oh, so now it’s a reversal of roles?”
“I was just pretending to give you a leg up. On a serious note, aftercare is important. We were both wild. I want to make sure you’re okay.”
“A dom and a gentleman.”
He chuckles.
“How was it being tied?” he asks.
“I liked it,” I blush furiously.
“Surrendering all control gets you off?”
You get me off.
“I guess so,” I say.
“Would you be willing to try it again?”
I’d be willing to try pretty much anything with you. “Yes.”
“My deviant dominatrix.”
I can’t help but giggle like a girl.
He shifts his gaze down to my wrists. “You might have a little redness tomorrow, but it should fade away pretty quickly. We didn’t play rough.” Oh, there’s more? “That said, it might influence your wardrobe selection.”
“Ah, I see. Long sleeves it is.”
He massages me for so long, I start to feel incredibly uncomfortable. I’m taking without giving back.
“I feel like a pampered queen.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “It’s my job to take care of you,” he says.
“Part of the dom’s code of conduct?” I tease.
I expect him to tease back, but he doesn’t. “Clearly polo boy didn’t know shit and he surely didn’t know how to treat you.”
I’m stumped. I don’t even know how to answer. So I don’t.
“What a fucker,” Holt mumbles under his breath.
A few more minutes and he’s done.
“Let me go get you some water. There must be a mini bar out there.”
“There is.”
“Sit tight.”
“Okay.”