My cock jumps at her glistening pink flesh, and I lower my mouth. It’s impulsive, and not what I had planned. But it’s what I need. It doesn’t matter that my chest aches to bend. I need to taste her more than I’ve ever needed anything.
“I take care of you. It doesn’t matter if it’s with my mouth, my fingers, my cock, or a toy. I do the fucking. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she gasps. The word tumbles off her tongue with a breath.
I lower my mouth, and lick, and suck, and nip, sliding my tongue into her wet little hole until she tightens and thrashes, with my name on her lips, and the tremors of her release on mine. Her orgasm, her needy little moans, her trembling body—it’s like a shot of energy that spurs me on.
I want more. More of her. More of everything.
“What’s your safe word?” I ask, plugging the wand into an outlet.
“Red.” She’s panting, but she doesn’t hesitate.
I slap her exposed pussy twice before I hold the wand to her quivering flesh. Her back arches as she white-knuckles the sides of the chair. “Is this what you wanted?” I taunt, while I yank the first orgasm from her.
“Yes,” she screams, as my cock grows thicker and harder. “Yes.”
I ask the question over and over as I wrench one orgasm out after another. She stops answering after the third time I ask. But I’m a man possessed, and her trembling body is the only response I need.
“Please. I can’t. No more,” she pleads. But she never uses her safe word.
I run my hand over her inner thighs, enjoying the satiny skin against my fingers. “I decide when you’re done. And I don’t think you are.” I lower the wand and turn it higher.
With her legs shaking as she writhes through the next climax, I let the toy drop and unbuckle my belt, tugging at the button and zipper, until my angry, fat cock is in my hand.
I hover over her, pulling and jerking the swelling shaft while it weeps.
My eyes never leave Delilah’s, but I don’t really see her. I don’t think of her softness, her sweet musky scent, or even how much I love her. I’m blinded by a desperate need for release—from my demons, my pain, and the fortress I built around my soul after the attack. I don’t want to live like this anymore.
I’m so close. All I know is the force driving me over the edge in a gallop to bliss. I hear the roar of release detonating every cell. Every nerve. I shudder as it claws its way out of the pain.
“This is what I wanted,” she cries, finally answering the question I repeatedly posed to her. Her voice is joyous, like a prayer for the rain that falls after a punishing drought. As I spray thick ropes of cum over her skin, I see the blurred edges of a jubilant smile.
Now we’re done.
Not just her, but me too. Done with the pity parties, and the sullenness that’s become a way of life. It’s done. Done.
When I look back on tonight, I won’t remember anything about sex or consequences. It was so much more.
Delilah gave me back my honor tonight. My purpose. I was rudderless, headed into the darkest depths of the ocean, and she threw an anchor.
The feisty little blonde gave me my life back. Again. She forced me to take it.
Beginning tomorrow morning, and every one after that, I vow to wake up early, rehab, shower, put on a suit and go downstairs to work. I’ll set lofty goals, because I have big plans for us, and I promise myself that I won’t act on them until I’m back to normal.
It’s all the incentive I need.
Epilogue
EIGHT MONTHS LATER
This morning, I received an engraved invitation to join the king for dessert. My king. I was instructed to take the elevator to the lower level at exactly eight o’clock. I have no idea what Gray’s planning, but I do know that Jolie and Gil, the fantasy creators, have been here a lot recently, reimagining some of the rooms.
As I descend into the playground of the rich and powerful, I think of nothing but Gray’s heart-stopping smile and his bright-blue eyes that twinkle playfully again.
While I’m sometimes overwhelmed by the excesses of the life we lead, I no longer worry about earning my keep, or that I’m not enough. I do, and I am. It’s that simple. And when it’s not, the man who owns my heart, sets me right.
Gray and I have forged a true partnership. At work, at home, and at play.
Most portrayals of Dominants and submissives are crafted to fit a stereotype. We found our own unique identity, as every couple should.
The rules are negotiated frequently, and compromises are made. Except in the bedroom. I choose to follow there. It frees me in a way that’s impossible to explain to anyone who doesn’t appreciate the dynamic.
Although Gray looks healthy and gorgeous, and he’s regained all the muscle he lost, I’ll go to my death with the image of him strapped to the table in his office, bloodied and barely breathing. The space has been entirely redone, the table is gone, but I still see the horror every time I enter the room.
His body and his mind have healed. The former took courage, perseverance, and heart. More than most humans have inside them for a lifetime. The latter took the threat of a vibrator shoved up his ass. If I had known it was going to have such a big impact, I would have made the threat sooner.
The elevator stops with a tiny bounce that makes the butterflies in my belly swirl faster. When the doors open, my man awaits.
“I hope you have something special for dessert. I put on my favorite dress.” It’s actually Gray’s favorite, with a lace-up bodice that he loves to unfasten with skilled, unhurried hands that never fail to bring me pleasure.
He pulls me to him, kissing me slowly, until I sway into his body, brushing against his cock. “You’re a tease,” he murmurs. “Let’s go find your treat.”
Gray leads me to a room at the very end of the hall. The plaque outside the door is covered. “Go on,” he encourages. “Peel off the wrapping.”
I glance between him and the plastic covering. “Is this my kind of dessert, or your kind?” I tease.
“We have similar appetites. But you’ll have to see if it suits you.”
I pull the sticky covering off. Queen’s Quarters is etched into the brass plate.
He hands me a shiny key and nods.
My hands are a little shaky as I slip the key into the lock and turn it. Not because I’m afraid, but because I’m eager and aroused. And Gray has the hungry look of a predator. I know everything that comes with that sexy look.
I pull open the door, and Gray flips the switch that illuminates a crystal chandelier hanging in the center of the room. It’s similar to the one at the beach that I love. The one that makes shadows dance on the ceiling.
The room is decorated opulently, in every shade of blue, the palest creams, and warm gold tones.
“Jolie wanted to make the room silver and blue,” he explains, “but the silver felt icy and aloof. I wanted something more inviting. Something that would envelop you in warmth, especially after we play. You get so cold.”
I turn to him and take his hand, squeezing his fingers. “It’s beautiful.” My heart is full, but the words don’t come easy.
“This is your room,” he says, the edges of his mouth curling ever so slightly. “Dedicated to your needs and desires. You’re the queen. No one else plays in this room besides you.”