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“You'll make a wonderful mother someday.” Croix nuzzles against me, his arm draped over my waist as we lie together in the darkness.
“Do you really think so?” I turn my head to look at him, but my vision never reaches his face.
“Beverly adores you. I can tell.” He kisses my hair.
Once we got to the park, things flowed a lot more smoothly. I think it was mostly because she was occupied with other activities instead of having to focus entirely on me. We built a sand castle together and played frisbee and took a dip in the ocean. Then afterward I unpacked our lunches so that we could eat before we flew kites together. By the time we left the park, we were all beyond exhausted. Beverly slept the entire way home.
Warm tendrils of affection curled around my heart as I watched Croix carry Beverly to her bedroom and tuck her in. When he brushed her hair back away from her face and kissed her on the forehead, my ovaries melted. It was the first time ever that I've imagined having a family with someone. He's a good father. I can see it in all of his interactions with his daughter.
“I hope she does.” I smile, remembering the lilt in her voice as she parroted everything I said with childlike glee as I unpacked our lunches.
All in all, the day was a lot more pleasant than I thought it would be.
“Maybe someday the two of us will have shitlings together,” Croix teases.
“Shitlings?” I guffaw.
“Shh. That's what I call them when they're out of earshot.”
“That's horrible.” I turn around and slap his chest.
“She's not always that pleasant. Trust me. I mean, she's a great kid, but she has her bad moments.”
“I'm sure all kids do,” I reply thoughtfully. “I think she's great, though.”
“I'm glad.” I can hear the relief in his voice. “And I'm glad that you were willing to meet her and make her a part of your life. That means a lot to me.”
“Of course.” I twist back around, wiggling to press my body against his.
Almost instantly, I feel his length harden.
“Hi there,” he whispers over my shoulder.
“Hi,” my voice takes a sensual turn as I grind back against him.
“Oh, you're being bad.”
“Am I?” I readjust myself so that I can feel his dick wedged between my ass cheeks.
“Yes, you are. Getting me so turned on.”
“Is that so?” I slip my fingers into the waistband of my panties to pull them down. Once they're off, I toss them over the side of the bed.
“That's so.” Croix follows suit, removing his boxer briefs.
“I bet I can be worse,” I purr, rotating my hips and lining him up with my entryway. I'm already wet and ready for him.
“You're already being worse, but I like it,” he growls into my ear as he grabs my breast, kneading his fingers into it.
“Mm I love it when you touch me,” I moan, placing my hand on top of his and manipulating the pressure. All the while, I continue to writhe.
He moves a little, his glans popping between my pussy lips. The constricted position makes him feel extra big. It will be exquisite when he penetrates me, and I know that he will. I've gotten him too riled up for him to stop.
“Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle.” I shake my ass slightly.
He pushes himself up onto his arm, and I hiss as I feel his hot mouth against my neck before his teeth clamp onto the skin there. The bite of pain sends me into overdrive, my cunt clenching. He forces his cock inside of me, battling my muscles. When they give way to him, I gasp in surrender.
***
“Move in with me.”
I'm almost asleep when I hear Croix say those words. After a relatively short but enjoyable romp between the sheets, my remaining energy is completely drained. My eyes had already fluttered closed to sleep, the beginnings of a dream forming inside of my brain. Part of me wonders if that was a part of it. His voice was too loud, though. Too real.
“What?” I mumble back to life.
“Move in with me,” he repeats, propping himself up to look over my shoulder.
“Aren't you tired yet?” I roll onto my back, half-whining.
“You won't come back to work for me, so move in with me. I need more of you, Raven. I need to see you more. Be around you more. You're like a drug to me. I can never get enough.” He gazes down at me in the darkness.
“This is an odd time to bring it up.” I yawn.
“I'm sorry. I know you're tired. I've been thinking about it for a while, though, and I couldn't hold it in any longer.”
Even though I'm not acting like it, I'm elated by his offer. It's everything I want too—to be closer to him. Still, I have Cindy to think about. I know she'll be lonely without me. Plus, she'd have to rent out my room again.
“I want to.” I rub the sleep away that has gathered at the corner of my right eye.
“So you will?” his tone rises with excitement.
“I'll think about it.”
“What's there to think about?”
“Cindy. I feel like she needs me there.”
“She doesn't need you. She's a grown ass woman. I'm sure she'll understand.” He doesn't hide the sarcasm in his tone.
“It's not like that,” I huff. “She's become like a mother to me. I don't have any more family Croix. You know that.”
“It's not like I'm asking you to cut her out of your life. You can still be friends.” He strokes my hair soothingly.
“I suppose you're right.” I surrender to his logic.
“Good. It's settled then. You'll move in next weekend.” He nods.
“Next weekend?” My eyes fly open, my body now completely alert from the shock of him wanting me to move in so soon.
“Next weekend,” he parrots. “We both have the weekend off, so it seems logical.”
“You're so impatient.” I laugh, shaking my head before relaxing again.
“I'm always impatient when it comes to getting to spend more time with you.”
***
“Miss Tarley, this is the law offices of Schuler and Melks. We're calling on behalf of your brother's estate,” a deep male voice says over the phone.
I almost didn't answer the phone call when the unknown number flashed across my caller ID during my lunch break. Perhaps it was my good mood that made me willing to deal with a probable telemarketer. Now, I'm regretting it. More than likely, Sheri is sicking them after me for holding onto the stuff that Roscoe left at the hotel. There's no doubt in my mind that she wants everything of his, even if it's of no value to her. That's just the kind of cunt she is.
“I'm listening,” my voice is clipped, expecting the worst.
“If you could make some time to come in and discuss your brother's estate with us, that would be great. We need to go over some things with you.”
“If this is about his bitch wife wanting the stuff he left at the hotel, you can tell her that there was nothing of value. If she wants it that damn badly, she'll have to sue me over it.” I fight the urge to hang up on the man, my blood already boiling from the brief conversation.
He seems startled for a moment before he speaks again. “That's not what this is about at all. Your brother made you the sole beneficiary in his will. We needed to contact you about collecting his estate.”
My heart sinks to the pit of my stomach, and I have to place a hand there to catch it. For several seconds, I'm frozen in disbelief. Did Roscoe really think that far ahead before deciding to commit suicide? And why me? Why not Sheri or his children?
“Miss Tarley, are you there?”
“Yes,” I stutter back to life, staring at the sandwich in front of me without even a shred of my appetite left. “Text me your address. I can be there at your earliest convenience.”
***
I walked into the attorney’s office not expecting much. I walked out with way more than I got cheated out of when my parents' died. While there wasn't much physical property that Sheri didn't already have legal rights to, there were a shit ton of stocks. Why Roscoe didn't just cash some of them out to pay me the money he owed me, I have no idea.
It's bitter irony. My brother wanted my love. I wanted the money he owed me. He refused to give me the money. I refused to forgive him. Now he's dead, and I have way more of his money than I know what to do with. To be honest, I'd trade it all to have him back. Life doesn't work that way, though. Neither does death.
I refuse to continue passing on the bitterness. Almost as soon as I've traded out all of his stocks, I take half of the money and put it in CDs for Roscoe's kids. They're not to be cashed until each child turn eighteen. That way, Sheri has no way of getting her hands on the money. I doubt that there would be any money left by the time they turned eighteen if I let her have it. This way, I know for sure that his kids can go to college if they want to. I know Roscoe would approve.
With nearly half a million dollars left, I give Cindy ten grand to help get her by after I move out. She receives the money with tears rolling down her face. If an embrace could kill a person, I might be dead right now. She hugs me so tightly that I can't breathe. It makes me happy to see her so happy, though. Totally worth the bruised ribs.
The rest of the money, I put in a savings account for hard times. Even though I have a great job and no rent payment now that I'm moving in with Croix, you never know what will happen in the future. It's better to be safe than sorry, and for that reason, I refuse to spend the money frivolously. While there are a lot of amazing people in my life, I still hold onto the mentality that I'm the only person that I truly have to rely on. It's a very guarded way to think, but after all that I've been through I need to be smart.
Maybe someday I'll let my walls down completely. I'm not quite there yet. Perhaps I never will be. Only time will tell.
EPILOGUE
NINE MONTHS LATER
––––––––
Things never seem to turn out quite like we think they will. I never expected to lose my parents. I never expected to be out on my own at such a young age. I never expected to work at a sex club for charity. I never expected to meet a kind, handsome billionaire and fall in love. I never expected that my brother would commit suicide. I definitely never expected this.
I'm sitting in the bathroom looking at the pink cross on the pregnancy test that I just took. After months of being meticulously careful, I don't understand how this happened. God must hate me. That's the only logical answer.
Croix and I have used so many condoms that we're practically the poster children for Trojan. The one fucking time that a condom breaks on us, this happens.
Now that I think about it, he must be extra fertile. He has sex with his best friend once and knocks her up. A condom breaks on us once, and he knocks me up.
Maybe it's a mistake.
I go about my day trying not to fret. That's kind of difficult, though, when all I can think about is how positive results are rarely wrong.
After work, I stop by the drug store to pick up another test. The next morning, my worst fears are confirmed. I'm pregnant. Definitely, 100%, without a doubt pregnant.
Holy fuck, what am I going to do now?
Oddly, my first inclination is not to speed to the nearest abortion clinic and dispose of the little monster inside of me. That is a stark difference to how I felt when Derrick knocked me up.
I cradle my stomach while I sit on the commode, screwing my face. Inside of me is a part of Croix. Happy memories of Croix and Beverly and I together flip through my mind. Over these past several months, the three of us have gotten very close. I definitely feel motherly affection for her. We've baked cookies together, and I read her her bedtime story sometimes. It feels almost like she's mine. More than that, it feels like I'm ready to have a child of my own. Sometimes, I've even wanted one, though I've been a bit too afraid to admit it to myself until now.
Having children is a big responsibility, and I've definitely never wanted them out of wedlock. Croix hasn't proposed to me yet, though. In fact, he hasn't even hinted that he's going to in the near future. It's a disconcerting thought that I'd want to keep this child when there's no rock solid commitment between us.
I sigh as I place the pregnancy test back in its box and hide it in one of my dresser drawers. The one from yesterday got buried in the trash so that Croix wouldn't find it. I didn't want him to know that I was paranoid about the condom breaking in the first place. To be honest, I'm not sure how he'd react if he found out I was pregnant. I'd rather wait until the opportune time to bring it up.
After taking a few days to mull things over, I decide that that time will be on our one year anniversary. The day before, I check the pregnancy test to make sure that the plus sign is still there. Then I place it in a gift box and stick it in my purse to present to him that night.
We both get dressed up to the nines. I wear a long white gown with silver flowers embroidered on it and peek-a-boo mesh down the cleavage. Croix is dapper in a classic tuxedo. I straighten his bow tie before we leave the house, hoping that I don't look fat in my white dress. Knowing that I'm pregnant makes me paranoid that I'm already showing, even though it's only been a month since I conceived.
We arrive at the restaurant and make idle conversation. Everything at The Billionaires Club has been going well. Mary Carmen retired, and I've taken over all of my assigned job duties at Hudson Paragon Solutions. Croix has been spending a lot of time lately flying back and forth from Florida to New York to take care of things at his investment firm. Though I don't make anywhere near as much money as he does, I feel like we're pretty close to equal on a professional level. We're definitely what I would consider a power couple. Financially, having a child together would be no issue for either one of us.
“I got you an anniversary present,” I tell him when we've finished our meal and are waiting for the dessert that we ordered.
“Oh?” Croix props his elbows up on the table and steeples his hands, looking amused.
“Mhm.” I fish the box out of my purse before handing it across to him.
“Let me guess.” He takes it with a casual smile. “It's a watch.”
My shoulders slump as I give him a sarcastic look. “Do you really think I'd buy you another watch?”
He rarely wears the one I bought him for his birthday, and when he does, he never looks at it, preferring to use his phone to tell the time. Tonight, it's an accessory to his outfit, but I know he's only got it on because it's a special night for us.
“Then it's a stack of gift cards to the coffee shop down the street.” His face lights up.
“Just open it.” I roll my eyes at him.
That smirk is going to melt straight off of him when he sees what's actually inside the box. Now that I've passed it over to him, I'm beginning to think that now isn't the best time to discuss this. If it puts him in a bad mood, it will completely ruin our anniversary.
My stomach turns as he pulls the ribbon on the bow and then starts to lift the lid off of the box. My hand flies to my stomach, as if both me and the baby are holding our breath for his reaction.
He doesn't take the pregnancy test out of the box. He simply looks at it, his expression deadpan. He drags his tongue over his bottom lip before his eyes meet mine.
“Is this what I think it is?” He points inside of the box.
“It is.” I inhale deeply.
Finally, his hard exterior cracks. The smile that spreads across his face makes relief flood through every part of me. I can feel my body relax as I realize that he's not angry.
He nods before gently putting the lid back on the box, his eyes brimming with tears.
“Are you alright?” I ask, not really sure what to make of his reaction.
“I'm happy is all. I'm happy that we're going to have a family.” He reaches across the table for my hands.
His fingers are warm as I slide mine on top of his before he clasps our hands together firmly. “Are you sure you're okay with this? Is this what you really want?”
“It is what I want,” he replies without hesitation.
For several minutes, we sit there in silence staring at each other. I can tell by the glimmer in his eyes that he's sincere. He wants this baby, and that makes me want it more too. We're in this together. We both want this.
“Here you are, sir. Madame.” The waiter finally arrives and slides a piece of chocolate cake between us.
“It's all yours.” Croix pushes it towards me. “You're eating for two now.”
“I may be eating for two, but I don't think I can handle this whole cake on my own.” I pick up my fork.
“Fine. I'll take a bite.” Croix clips a piece from the end of the cake.
I follow suit, taking in the rich chocolatey goodness. It tastes like heaven.
Croix barely picks at the cake, leaving the majority of it for me. About halfway through, I bite into something hard, and pain surges through my mouth. I immediately spit out blood, cake, what appears to be a tooth, and something metal.
“Oh my God!” Croix is by my side in an instant. “Are you okay?”
“What in the hell was that? I think I need to go to the hospital.”
“It was an engagement ring. I was trying to propose to you.” He cringes.
If I weren't in so much pain, I'd laugh. Right now, all I can think about is my broken tooth and wanting the throbbing in my jaw to stop. That and the torrents of blood that seem to be pouring out from the wound.
Croix throws a wad of cash on the table before leading me out to the limo and making the driver speed to the hospital. Several hours and some pain killers later, I'm back home with a temporary implant in the molar that shattered from biting into the ring.
Croix strokes my hair as we lie in bed together. “Raven, I'm so sorry. I totally didn't see that coming.”
“I want to be mad at you, but I can't be.” I close my eyes, trying to be soothed by his touch.
He holds the ring up to me. The large princess cut diamond glitters in the dim lighting. I swear I can still see some of my blood on the gold band, but I'm probably imagining it. Croix washed the ring thoroughly as soon as we got home and he had me settled in.
“I'm guessing you're going to reject my proposal now that I've broken your tooth and made you almost choke to death on your own blood.” He fights back a grin.
“If I wouldn't have broken my tooth, I might have choked to death on the ring.” I nod towards it with a look of apprehension.
“Rings in cakes...not such a great idea.” He wrinkles his nose.
“Oh, I'm sure it was a marvelous idea. Only I have the talent to fuck something like that up.” I chuckle lightly.
“Well, at least we'll have an interesting story to tell our child.” He rests his hand on my stomach. “That is, if you say yes.”
This will definitely be a night to go down in the memory books.
I think about how tumultuous our relationship has been. How everything that has gone right with us has started with something wrong. While I can't be sure that this will be any different, I am sure of one thing. I want to spend the rest of my life with Croix Philbrook. For better or worse. Till death do us part.
“Yes, Croix. I'll marry you.”
To further support this author, please post a review after you finish reading this book.
Sky Corgan is the USA Today bestselling author of Bully. She lives in Texas where the sun is hot and the men are hotter. When she's not typing away at her next steamy romance novel, she enjoys hanging out with friends and attending kinky BDSM clubs. Many of the events in her books are based on things that actually happened, and she greatly fancies infusing real life with fantasy.
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Also By Sky Corgan:
Bully
Unmatchable
Playing Dom
Damaged
Primal
Sold Innocence
The Snowman
Mixed Up
His Possession
The Virgin Dating Game
Dirty Prince
Bonus Excerpt from
Flesh
I wait on the bed with bated breath, my fingers nervously fidgeting with the ribbon on my apron babydoll lingerie. It's the sexiest thing I've ever worn for a man, and I'm more than a little uncomfortable in it. If I had known how I would feel now when I was buying it, I would have gone with a nightgown or something else far less revealing and far more frumpy. As it is, all I want to do is cover up.
What does it really matter though? If what I've been told throughout my entire adult life is true, men don't care what a woman looks like as long as she's willing. That's not really what this is about though. I'm willing to try some things, not others. Not most of the things that were on the order form I scanned through before I came here.
Waiting is torturous. My eyes flit to the cheap Dollar Store clock on the wall, and I scowl at the realization that he's late. I paid money for this, and he's late. Hopefully, I'll get my full session. Either that, or they'll have to take off the time that he was absent.
Just thinking about handing money over for something like this makes me feel pathetic. There won't be any sex, but it still feels like prostitution to some degree. Oh well. This is what I wanted, wasn't it? To stop being boring. To try new things. And I have been curious about this for quite a while.
Footsteps approach from down the hall, and my breath catches in my throat as I hear the door handle jiggle. My arms wrap around myself, covering as much of my scantily-clad flesh as I can. And my mind instantly flips to wondering who is going to walk in. It shouldn't matter, due to the nature of the session, but it does, somehow. I paid good money for this. I want to be turned on, not repulsed. It's a horribly vain thing to think, and looks should never matter, one way or another. Just moments ago, I was worried about being judged, and now...
The door swings open, and I exhale with a whoosh, quickly trying to compose myself, though it's difficult when my hormones are suddenly going off the charts. This isn't what I expected at all. Not someone like him.
He smiles at me, his gorgeous blue eyes never leaving me as he steps inside the room, then reaches behind himself to close the door. My cheeks burn, and it takes everything in me not to turn from him in embarrassment. I curse my body for giving my desire away. It only reacts like this when I'm extremely attracted to someone, and men don't get much more attractive than him.
“Good evening,” he says politely.
“Hi,” I reply shyly, staring at the back of his suit as he bolts the door.
To be honest, I expected him to be wearing leathers. Isn't that half of what BDSM is about, the dress code? Leathers and vinyl and tight shirts and harnesses. This guy looks like he might have just gotten off from work. His style is impeccable. There's not so much as a wrinkle on the dark-gray business suit he's wearing. His hair is almost black, and it's gelled to be mussy but still looks kept—one step above just fucked sexy. He's tall and broad, and all I keep wondering is if I'm going to get to see him naked...or at least close to naked. Shirtless will do. Finding out if he wears boxers or briefs, even better.
I chew my bottom lip nervously, my eyes fixed on the way his slacks mold around his ass. When he turns around, my gaze shoots up to meet his, and I can't fight back my surprised expression, as if I've just been caught. If he knows I've been staring at him, it doesn't show. A charming smile curves his lips, the kind that sends signals straight to my nether region to gear up. It annoys me that my body is reacting so strongly to his presence. Perhaps it's because I'm so attracted to him, but also because I know those large deft hands will eventually be touching me. Just thinking about it makes my sex clench—makes me wish I would have signed up for more than what I did. I couldn't be sure though at the time if I'd actually want it, if I'd actually want him.
He approaches me, and I feel myself shrinking, my legs pressing together, my arms hugging tighter around myself. I'm clamming up, my shy nature getting the better of me. Already, I'm beginning to panic. While I did willingly sign up for this, my confidence is waning. Never before have I allowed a man whom I'm not romantically involved with to touch me. And it can't get anymore not romantically involved than this. He's my paid Dom for the night. I'm just another girl on his list of clients wanting to experience the seemingly new phenomenon of BDSM—new to mainstream, that is.
“You can relax. I'm not going to hurt you.” He stops right in front of me. Provocatively close. Our legs are almost touching. My eyes are resting on his crotch, but I'm staring more through it than at it. Shit, I'm starting to shut down. The intensity of the situation is too much for me, and we haven't even started yet. “Unless you want me to.”
“No. That's alright.” I shake my head, my mouth feeling like a desert. I'm pretty sure he sucked all the air and moisture out of the room when he stepped inside. Except for the moisture between my legs. There's definitely something going on down there, which is why it's imperative that I keep them closed. This stupid lingerie is so sheer that he'd probably be able to see it.
“What's your name, beautiful?”
I feel his fingertips press beneath my chin, lifting my face up to look at him. His touch is soft yet demanding, and it sends electricity pulsing through me, perking my nipples and making my grip tighten around myself again. I don't want him to see what he's doing to me. But if that's really the case, then why am I even here?
“Janice,” I lie. It's not my name. It's not even the fake name I had planned to use. I wanted to be Angel, but that went out the window the moment that he touched me. It was like my brain dripped into a puddle of mush on the floor, and all I could recall was my roommate's name. Internally, I curse myself for saying it—wonder why that was the best I could come up with. Now I'm going to have to listen to him calling me her name throughout the entire session.
“Janice,” he repeats, saying it in a way that I've never heard it before. Sexy-like. How I wish he was saying my name like that. Why couldn't I just give him my real name? It's not like we'll ever see each other again after this.
“And what should I call you?” I let my eyes lock onto his, and a shiver rolls down my spine. So blue. So impossibly blue. Almost unnaturally pale, setting off his porcelain skin, strong jawline, and dark brows. He looks kind of like a vampire, the sexy kind you see in television shows. The kind you actually want to bite you. He looks dangerous.
“You'll call me Sir.” He holds my chin and brushes his thumb delicately across my bottom lip, his eyes boring into me with confidence the likes of which I've never felt from a man before. Reflexively, I open my mouth slightly, a small gasp escaping my throat from the sheer arousal I'm feeling from his touch. His thumb travels back over my lips, the tip teasing across my top lip before he presses it inside my mouth. “Suck.”
My cheeks heat up as my mouth closes around the thick digit. My tongue presses against the pad, and as I massage it, tasting his skin, I realize that his fingers aren't calloused. He most likely doesn't have a difficult profession. Hell, he's probably a model. There are plenty of them here in Florida.
“I bet I have something else you'd like to suck,” he muses as he begins to slide his thumb back and forth. “I can think of something I'd like to see you suck.”
His arrogance is amusing. If he was anyone else, it would be a total turn off, but we both know what I'm here for. Unfortunately for him, sucking what I'm sure he's thinking of wasn't on my list. Even though I find him attractive, I'm glad. While I do want to start being more adventurous, I'm not sure I'm quite to that level yet. Maybe next time, if I order another session with him.
The thought that I'm actually considering it makes me feel scandalous. Surely it's my hormones talking. This is supposed to be about trying something new, not creating an addiction. A woman could definitely feel the need for seconds, though, when faced with a man this sexy.
He pulls his thumb out of my mouth and swipes it across both of my lips, wetting them. Maybe my mouth wasn't as dry as I thought. Or perhaps being close to him has made it water, and I hadn't realized it.
“This is very pretty.” His hand falls to the cups of my lingerie, and he traces the top of them with the back of his index finger, causing goose pimples to raise up on my skin.
“Thank you,” I mutter, looking down to follow his hands. The way my arms are wrapped around myself makes it seem like I have more cleavage than what's actually there. I think about putting my arms down so that I don't disappoint him with the illusion of big breasts, but I'm too embarrassed of my body.
Oddly, now I'm wishing that he wasn't so attractive. To an average guy, I would be a prize. This guy is probably used to sleeping with gorgeous women though, bottle blondes with perfect bikini bodies. The thought that I am going to eventually have to let him see my less than flat stomach fills me with dread. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.
“You're shy.”
I refuse to look up at him, but I can hear the smile in his voice.
“We can't have that.” He grabs my arms at the wrists and starts to pry them from around me. For a moment, I struggle. He's too strong though. I let out a few brief grunts of discomfort, but I don't tell him to stop. Within seconds, he has captured my wrists and is holding them above my head, exposing my scantily-clad body. “You shouldn't struggle,” he warns, looking me up and down.
I turn my face away from him, not wanting to see him judging me. I'm certain that my stomach is rolling. Not sexy at all. And my small breasts are probably less than satisfying to him.
“Look at me,” he tells me, his voice full of dominance.
I hesitate. In truth, I don't want to look at him. It's awkward. But I remember the rules. I'm supposed to obey his every whim. It's for both my safety and my pleasure. Right now, this doesn't feel very pleasurable. Sure, the fact that he's holding me in place is hot, but knowing he's looking at me, that he's seeing all of my imperfections...
When I turn my head back to him, the first thing that I notice is the bulge in his pants. I try not to linger on it for too long. My eyes travel up the front of his suit to meet his face. His expression is pure lust, and I feel my cheeks grow even warmer as I realize that he's actually turned on by the sight of me. Where my self-confidence was in the gutter only seconds before, it's now risen to the heavens—and so has my arousal.
“Good God, you're beautiful.” He looks me over appreciatively, and I have to fight the muscles in my face from going into a beaming smile that totally would not fit in with the moment. “I'm going to let your hands go, but you're not going to cover yourself up with them again, do you understand?”
His tone is reminiscent of an adult reprimanding a child. It makes me feel small and vulnerable. I nod, bringing my hands to my sides when he lets them go. He's already seen my body. There's no point in hiding anymore.
I watch as he loosens his tie. My heartbeat speeds up in anticipation. Is he going to take off his shirt now? Am I finally going to get to see what's under his clothes? I certainly hope so. I can already imagine the rippling wall of muscle that's going to greet me. He's fit. Anyone with eyes can see that. Just below the surface of that suit is sheer masculine bliss, and I'm going to get to experience it. Going to get to touch him, hopefully, if I'm a good girl.
A smirk plays across my lips as I realize I'm starting to get into the scene. This isn't so bad. I wanted the tamest experience possible. Assertive yet not overbearing. He's been good at delivering so far.
He slides the tie from around his neck and leans over to gather my wrists together. I hold my breath, hoping he'll kiss me, but he doesn't. He seems too consumed with the task at hand, binding my wrists in front of me.
I close my eyes and try to process my level of enjoyment from being restrained by a total stranger. The silk of his tie feels good over my skin, and I briefly wonder if it will leave marks behind—proof that we've been together.
He knots the tie around my wrists, though not so tight that I couldn't easily escape if I wanted to. While bondage was definitely on my list of things to do, I made sure to omit handcuffs or anything metal with real locks. You need trust for that, and I don't know this guy at all. I am, however, happy that he seems to understand my need not to be restrained to the point that I'm helpless. It's a good start for building my trust in the things we're going to be doing beyond this.
“Are you ready for the fun to begin, beautiful one?” His eyes catch mine, sparkling with a sexy devilishness.
“Mhm.” I nod, at a complete loss for words. He's so damn beautiful.
The dryness returns to my throat as I realize that things are about to get a lot more intense.
He straightens himself, looking down at me like a predator. “We're going to take things slowly. I want you to relax and enjoy yourself, but you'll also need to follow my orders. Anything I ask of you, you will need to comply with immediately. Do you understand?”
“Mhm.” I drag my tongue across my bottom lip, but it's no use. It's a desert inside my mouth again.
“Crawl up onto the bed and lay back. I want you on your back, hands above your head.”
I do as I'm told, moving backwards onto the bed, worrying the whole time about my less than lithe body jiggling. Worrying that he's watching me. He is watching me. It only takes a quick glance at his face to see that.
Realizing how not sexy I look squirming backwards with my hands bound, I finally decide to roll over and climb the rest of the way on my knees before turning again and plopping down, the bed bouncing from my weight. I cringe, so embarrassed at my lack of grace that I can barely stand to look at him. I can only imagine what's going through his head right now. He probably thinks I'm an oaf and can't wait for this session to be over.
Don't be so negative, Amy. If he's been at this long enough, I'm sure he's seen worse than you. Fatter. More clueless. Just get it together.
He waits until I've stilled, my body in a comfortable position, my hands over my head, before he crawls onto the bed to join me. Where my movements were disjointed and clumsy, he moves with the seamlessness of a cat, sliding onto the bed effortlessly to kneel between my legs. The soft touch of his hands on my inner thighs, urging them wide enough for him to fit, causes a shiver to run down my legs, pooling at the junction of my core.
I feel so exposed, like I'm laying myself out before him as an offering, waiting for him to claim me. The thought of his naked body writhing on top of mine has my senses heightened. Because I want it. He's so incredibly handsome that I'd probably let him have sex with me if he wanted to. Part of me is actually upset that I didn't check off sex on my list.
Next time. I'm starting to feel like there will definitely be a next time.
I try to control my breathing as he takes off his suit jacket and throws it onto a chair in the corner of the room. Then I watch his hands move for the button on the collar of his white dress shirt. It pops open with ease, followed by the next. My eyes trail behind his fingers obsessively, staying just above them, fixed on the reveal. Hard planes of muscle, a smooth, hairless chest, followed by the delicious rippling of a six pack. When he pushes the shirt over his shoulders, I get to see the rest of the package, firm biceps and triceps, and a V that points straight to his cock.
I think I just died and went to heaven.
He finishes pulling off the shirt, wads it up, and tries tossing it at the chair in the corner of the room. He misses, but I'm not paying much attention to that. I'm too busy trying not to drool over his perfect body, too busy watching the different muscles flex as he moves. When he returns his attention to me, I have to force my eyes up to his face. It's almost embarrassing how horny I am, and we haven't even really done anything yet.
A soft smile plays on his lips, somewhere between amusement and arousal, as he traces the straps of my babydoll with his fingertips. His touch is so gentle, so delicate, purposefully teasing. I can feel heat coursing under my skin everywhere that his hands go. They follow the strap back down to the cups of my lingerie, dipping slightly under the tops of them, which makes my breath hitch, though I'm not sure why. Perhaps because I'm becoming self-conscious again. My boobs were small when I was sitting up. They're practically nonexistent now.
“You're still so nervous.” He stops moving, his eyes meeting mine. There's something soothing about his expression, something intimate, silently telling me that he'd never hurt me.
“I've never done anything like this before,” I confess.
“I promise, I'll take good care of you.” He allows his gaze to fall back down to his fingers, which he promptly pulls out of the cups of my babydoll to trace over the top of them again. Even though I believe his words, I can't help but wonder how many times he's said them to other women.
Don't think about that now. It will ruin the fantasy. The fantasy that he's yours and yours alone.
His hands continue their descent, and I suck in as they glide over my stomach, making their way towards my crotch. I think he's headed straight to my underwear before he pinches one of the strings holding the top of my lingerie together.
“Rest your head back,” he tells me, noticing that I'm straining to watch his every move.
By the time the back of my head hits the pillow, I'm panting. I must have been holding my breath. Have probably been holding it ever since I sucked in so he wouldn't see how pudgy I am, not that he hasn't already seen it.
I close my eyes, trying to relax as I feel the strings of my lingerie being lifted. He's going to untie them—untie them and see my breasts. I'm not sure if I'm ready for that. While I want him to touch me, I don't want him to see me. It's illogical, but it's how I feel.
“Open your eyes.”
I feel the top of my lingerie strain slightly from the pressure of the little bow keeping it together being tugged, though it's not pulling free yet. Hesitantly, I open one eye, and then the other. It's not until they're both open that I realize I'm cringing. His expression is full-blown amusement.
“Relax,” he enunciates each syllable, and I feel my shoulders fall, more out of embarrassed defeat than the actual desire to obey.
“I can't wait to see what's under this.” He twirls one of the ribbons around his index finger. For a moment, he pauses, his eyes fixed on mine. I can't tell if he's challenging me to stop him, or if he's actually just trying to give me a chance to back out.
He starts to pull on the ribbon, ever so slowly. The room is so quiet that I can actually hear the bow pop when it comes undone. My chest rises and falls in nervous anticipation as gravity does its work helping the garment pull away from my body, though my perked nipples keep it from falling completely off.
“Beautiful.” He licks his lips, his eyes moving from my face to my chest. I feel his fingers return to me, just the tops, tracing a path between my breasts and down my stomach. I close my eyes and moan softly. His hands are heavenly, sensual. So sensual. I absolutely love it.
I clasp my fingers together over my head and allow myself to fall into the fantasy. I pretend that he's my lover, that everything feels right. His touch gets more intense, fingertips turning into hands, his hands wrapping around my waist and moving up my sides before stopping just below my breasts. Damn, his hands are big. I never realized it before.
“Look at me,” he commands, and I open my eyes to find his filled with lust. The amusement that was there before is completely gone, and for the first time ever, I feel like we're truly in sync. I want him. He wants me. It's as simple as that. Simple and beautiful and perfect.
His fingertips lazily rub the underswell of my breasts for a moment before his hands lift up and the fabric clinging to my nipples gives way. A shudder of pleasure courses down my body as the material silently snaps free and renders my breasts bare to him. As if to make sure I'm fully exposed, he takes the demi cups of my lingerie and pulls them completely aside so that they're resting on the bed. Then he grabs my breasts with both hands, my nipples slipping between his fingertips, and he squeezes and kneads them. Hard.
A sharp cry of pleasure-pain leaves my lips, and I find myself intoxicated with this new roughness. As if all of my inhibitions have gone by the wayside from just this one intimate touch, I feel my back arch off the bed, my body pressing up to fill his hands even more. He growls in approval, leaning over me, and my breath hitches as I pray that his lips are finally going to meet mine.
“That's it, beautiful girl, show me your passion,” he whispers into my ear, making my sex clench in response. Damn him for being so seductive. Damn him for teasing me like this.
When he sits back up, his hands leave me, and I feel almost a physical ache from the lack of his touch. A pathetic, needy part of me wants to beg him to put his hands on me again, but that would be far too desperate. It's bad enough that he has me writhing beneath him, wanting more.
He leans over to open the bedside table drawer. Again, I find my eyes watching his muscles. It's like he's carved out of stone. I can't even imagine how many hours he's had to put in at the gym to get a body like this. Probably everyday, when he's not modeling or pleasuring women.
When he sits back up, I notice the blindfold in his hand. To be honest, I had half expected it to be a cheapie, one of the ones you put on but can still see underneath. This one is good though, wide and thick.
“I'm going to put this on you, and you're not going to peek,” he tells me.
I bite my bottom lip, not wanting to be blindfolded. Even though I marked it off on my list, now that I know how gorgeous he is, I don't want to go a second without seeing his delicious shirtless body. “I don't want to wear it,” I decide finally.
He gives me an incredulous look, straightening himself and twirling the blindfold on his index finger like he's done it a million times before. How he can move so flawlessly and look so perfect absolutely blows my mind. It's even more of a reason why I don't want the blindfold.
“Well, perhaps I would have considered keeping it off of you. But you didn't call me Sir. You're supposed to call me Sir after everything you say. It was in the rules, remember. Let's just consider this...a punishment of sorts.” He leans forward and starts placing the blindfold over my eyes.
My mouth falls open in disbelief. A punishment? Really? This is supposed to be my scene. Then again, I suppose it could be worse. When I think of punishments, I typically imagine spankings and more painful things. Perhaps this will make the experience more authentic for me. With that thought, I decide to give in. Besides, this is what I originally wanted. I paid for it, might as well try it, even if I later regret not being able to look at him more.
The world goes dark around me, and an uncomfortable feeling instantly forms in my chest. Doubt takes over. Not the same doubt I was experiencing earlier. This has nothing to do with being self-conscious. It all has to do with me not trusting him. Realizing that I just let a complete stranger put me in a very vulnerable position. If he wanted to, he could stab me to death, or strangle me, or murder me in some other horrific way.
Stop it, Amy. This isn't a one man operation. There are a whole bunch of people involved in this business, people who have your information on file. People who know you're here. He couldn't murder you and get away with it.
I just need to calm down. These are the more mild aspects of BDSM. My hands aren't bound very well. If he does anything that I don't like, I can just pull the blindfold off and hightail it out of here.
I feel the backs of his fingers on my collarbone, and my breath catches in my throat. Even though I expected that he'd touch me, I wasn't quite ready for it, my mind so on overdrive from having lost one of my five senses. His fingers whisper down my chest, and my breathing picks up as they climb the swell of my breasts, teasing over my nipples before continuing on to my stomach. Just that little bit of stimulation has my core throbbing. I'm even more aware that his dick, though completely out of my reach behind slacks and whatever underwear he's wearing, is probably only a foot away from my pussy. Silently, my body yearns for him, yearns for more of his touch. Yearns for the teasing to end, for him to be inside of me. It can't happen though. That's not what this is about, and it's not what I truly want. It's just what my body is telling me I want, despite my good senses.
The bed creaks beneath us as he moves. He caresses my face with the back of his hand, causing me to jerk back a little. Every touch is unexpected, but as soon as I realize what he's doing, I quickly calm.
A warm breath washes over my cheek, and I catch the smell of mint before he plants a soft kiss on my jaw. I melt into the pillow beneath me, patiently awaiting the moment when his lips meet mine. They follow a slow path towards my mouth. He grips my chin firmly, holding me in place, possibly because I was starting to tilt my head towards him. I feel the tender touch of his lips on the corner of my mouth, and then he draws away.
Grrr. Noooooo. I growl internally.
“You're a tease,” I dare to say, then quickly follow it up with, “Sir,” so I don't incite anymore of his punishments.
“Is that so?” Amusement is plain in his voice.
“You make me think ahhh,” my sentence is cut off with a moan when he pinches and rolls my nipples, then leans forward to grind his cock between my legs. Even clothed, I can feel how hard he is. The lace of my panties rubs against my folds, causing friction to build. When he pulls away, my body almost instinctively bucks towards him, wanting to feel the heat of his sex again. He places a hand on my stomach and gently pushes me back down, making a tut tut sound with his tongue. “Someone is awfully wanton.”
Briefly, I consider telling him to shut up, but that's not something you say to a Dom when you're tied down and blind—helpless. Instead, I settle beneath him, silently cursing him for being such a prick. Give and take. Hot and cold. He's a clit tease. And while it's the most amazing thing ever, I also kind of hate it. Hate that I can't have him, that he's not really mine.
“What would you like first, my mouth on yours, or my mouth on these?” He tugs my nipples, causing me to gasp.
“Kiss me,” I say without even thinking. It sounds so desperate and raw and not even me, but it's what I really want. It's what I've wanted ever since I first laid eyes on his gorgeous lips. Even with the blindfold on, I can remember them. His top lip is thin, but his bottom lip is full. Not disproportionately so. Just perfectly kissable.
“Is that what you want?” I feel his breath on top of my mouth, and my head lifts to seek him out. “No.” He puts his palm on my chest, pushing me back down. “You have to be a good girl. Can you be a good girl for me?”
“Mhm.” I nod, relaxing the best I can when I'm so wound up. My tongue swipes across my bottom lip, wetting it in anticipation. It looks like the saliva has returned. I think I felt a gush of it when he was grinding between my legs, when I thought about how hungry I actually am for sex. It's been so long. Years.
I don't want to think about that right now though. All I want is a kiss. Just one kiss.
I can almost feel his lips hovering over mine. At least, I imagine that they are. In the darkness, every warm draft of air could be his breath. It feels like I can feel him, but I know I really can't. The anticipation is almost maddening.
And then it happens.
His mouth falls over mine, and I moan into the space between us as every pleasure sensor in my entire body goes off at once. His lips are soft, yet firm at the same time. He fists his hand into my hair, holding my head in place as he kisses and nibbles and consumes. I close my eyes and allow myself to feel everything, his warm breath soothing my skin, the roughness of his tongue as it pushes through the seam of my lips to dance with mine, the way he tastes like mint and deliciousness. It's one of the best kisses I've ever had, and I can't even see his face. I can't help but wonder how much better it would be if I could. Can't help but wonder if his eyes are opened or closed, those insanely gorgeous blue eyes that I could stare into for days.
His body presses into me again. I feel the thickness of his cock as he grinds between my legs, the perfect outline of his shaft. While I'm not sure if I'm imagining it or not, I can almost swear that I feel his dick twitching, which must mean that he's pretty turned on. I know that I am. Everything in me wants to push back against him, wants to take more, to feel more, but I know that if I do, he'll just deny me, so I allow him to lead, savoring the feel of his mouth on top of mine, of his sex between my thighs.
His hand reaches up to cup one of my breasts, adding to the overall stimulation as he pinches the tiny bead between his fingers and then tugs and kneads over and over again until I'm panting against his mouth. He kisses my chin, down my neck, pausing for a moment to lick across my collarbone. My chest heaves as his lips reach the swell of my breasts. He takes his hand away and begins working on the other breast, giving it the same treatment. All the while, his lips continue their descent until I feel his breath just above my nipple.
“You have the most perfect tits,” he tells me before I feel wetness encircle my nipple. He groans around the bud, pinching it with his teeth, driving me absolutely insane.
“Oh my God,” I breath, falling into euphoric bliss from all the blind sensations. My hips buck up into him, and I leverage myself on the bed the best I can to slide my underwear up and over his dick, not caring how embarrassing what I'm doing is. I want him. I want him more than I've ever wanted a man. I'm more turned on than I've ever been in my entire life. And the thought that I can't have him feels like it might destroy me.
He doesn't reprimand me, and he doesn't stop. Instead, he pushes back, his cock so rigid that I worry it might break through his pants, tear through my underwear, and plunge inside of me. How I wish it was capable of that. How I wish we could both just give in.
His breathing becomes ragged, and I can sense that he's starting to lose control. All this time, he's been perfectly poised, his breathing steady, his movements seemingly planned. There's a crack in his impeccable exterior though. His hands are getting rough, groping with fervor. The bites of pain are becoming more frequent. He kisses a sloppy path from one breast to the other, drawing my nipple into his mouth and causing me to cry out as he sucks a little too hard. I never knew that pain could feel this good, and that somehow makes me feel both empowered and frightened.
The friction is building between my legs, and every touch of his lips and his hands only stimulates me more. He's rubbing me so hard, sucking until the sensitive nerves in my nipples are throbbing. I can feel my heartbeat between my legs.
And then my body just gives in.
An orgasm rips through me the likes of which I've never experienced before. Even though I'm blindfolded, I see a myriad of colors as my clit pulses with release, my sex clenching around nothing. I cry out, and every muscle in my body relaxes all at once. It feels like I'm falling. Falling and falling into a space where everything is perfect.
“Oh shit,” he curses, and I feel him suddenly withdraw from me completely. His hands, his mouth, his cock. All gone. The bed creaks as he shifts his weight, and all I hear is his heavy breathing.
For several moments, there's nothing. As my body calms from the incredible climax that I just had, I realize that everything has stopped.
“Are you alright?” I ask, concern quickly building up inside of me as I wonder if I did something wrong.
“Yeah,” he replies, his voice oddly flat.
His breathing is still a bit erratic, but it's starting to return to normal. Briefly, I think about asking him if he came, but I refrain. Of course, he didn't. He's used to doing this stuff with girls. Besides, he's still wearing pants.
The room is silent for a few more minutes before I finally feel his hand on me again. I jump slightly as his fingertips touch the seam of my sex through my underwear. Reflexively, I try to close my legs, not wanting him to see the wetness there, but he keeps them opened with his thighs.
“Don't fight it. You're so beautiful. So wet down here.”
“I just came,” I grumble.
“Sir. I just came, Sir.” He threads his finger through the crotch of my underwear and snaps it.
I refuse to give him the pleasure of hearing me repeat his words, so I just lay there, waiting for his next move. For a while, he simply rubs the back of his fingers gently over my moistened pussy lips. It's teasing, but nothing unbearable. Not after the amazing orgasm I just had.
The bed creaks beneath us when he shifts his weight, and then I hear the sliding of the bedside table drawer. My heart pounds in my chest as I wonder what he's going to do to me now. Inside though, I know. It's the only other thing I checked off on my list.
A familiar high pitched buzzing sound fills the room.
“Do you know what this is?” he asks.
I do know. It's some type of sex toy. I wish I could see it. Wish I could see how thick it is. What kind it is. I marked off dildo play on the list, but that's not a one-size-fits-all answer. It could be huge. And to be honest, I'm not exactly sure what he plans to do with it.
“Don't worry, it's brand new,” he tells me.
I hadn't thought to worry about that, but now that he's mentioned it, I feel relieved. “Can I see it, Sir?”
“No.”
The buzzing stops, and the bed shifts again. I feel his fingers slip beneath the waistband of my panties, and he moves back to pull them down and off. A blush covers my cheeks as I realize that I'm practically completely naked on the bed before him. Everything up to this point has been very intimate, but this adds a new layer to things.
“Spread your legs for me.”
I hesitate for a moment, not wanting to feel so exposed. When I don't move immediately, he grabs my thighs and begins to spread them. A pathetic cry leaves my lips as I draw my hands down to cover my face, feeling the soft brush of his tie against my nose.
“Hands above you head,” his voice takes a stern turn, demanding my obedience.
I raise my hands up again, shuddering as I feel the cool air in the room playing against my heated core. He can see all of me now, see how ripe with desire I am for him. It feels like I'm dripping, but I'm never as wet as I think I am. Still, it's embarrassing imagining it.
“Mmm. You've got a beautiful pussy.” His finger makes a swiping pass between my lips, and then I hear a wet sound. “You taste amazing.”
My cheeks light up as I realize he's sucking my juices off of his finger. There's an aching between my legs to have him there. Any part of him. His mouth, his fingers, his cock. God how I want his cock inside of me, to feel it stretch me. I'll just have to pretend though. Pretend that the dildo is him.
“Do you want me to touch you down here?” He presses the pad of his index finger against my clit, causing it to pulse with approval.
“Yes, Sir,” I breathe shamelessly before biting my bottom lip.
“Fucking hell, you're so hot. Do you realize that you almost made me nut on myself?” His thumb circles my cleft, too delicately. He's teasing me again, going to make me writhe, make me want to beg like before.
“So that's what happened?” There's a smile in my voice. I know I'm challenging him, but I don't care. Part of me wonders what other punishments are up his sleeve.
His thumb presses hard against me, rotating, drawing friction and pleasure up from my depths. Then it slows. I expect him to respond, but he doesn't. Instead, he just rubs me. Slowly. Tortuously.
Eventually, I start moving my hips along with his strokes, trying to garner more friction from his hand. This seems to displease him, because he pulls away completely, leaving me wanting more.
“I've got something for you,” he tells me. Almost as soon as he says it, I hear the buzzing sound again. It's easy to follow the audible cues, to know exactly where he's putting the device.
It moves closer and closer to my clit, and I hold my breath, waiting for impact. He teases it over each pussy lip. The vibrations are too gentle to do much, and to be honest, I'd rather still have him touching me than the toy.
Finally, he presses the tip of the toy against my clit. I cry out from the sudden stimulation and squirm. Just from the bit of play so far, I can tell that the toy isn't very big, which I'm relieved about. The last thing I want is him shoving a monster dick inside of me, especially if it's not attached to his body. This, I can handle, though it probably won't do me as good as he could, I think lecherously.
I relax and enjoy the sensations of him teasing me with the toy. He probes it at my entryway for a bit before sliding it inside. My body clenches around it reflexively, and I try to imagine that it's his cock pumping in and out of me. It's not big enough to be a cock though. The thing is barely thicker than a large tampon. Still, it feels good knowing that he's playing with me.
“You look bored.” He pulls the dildo out of me.
“Not bored. Just relaxing.” I sigh contently.
“We'll have to change that.”
What I feel at my entryway next is much more...fleshy. My heart skips a beat a second before I realize that it's two of his fingers. I feel stupid for not realizing that right away. For hoping beyond hope that it was his dick instead.
He slides one finger inside of me, and I groan, my body quickly squeezing around it. When he presses the other one into me, I whimper slightly. Damn, his fingers are big. Uncomfortably big, but not painful. It takes a moment for me to adjust, but once I do, I'm in heaven.
“Better?” he asks.
“Mhm.” I nod, parting my lips to pant as he curls his fingers inside of me and begins slowly thrusting in and out.
“I think it's about time for the grand finale.”
“The grand finale?” My eyebrows crease.
The buzzing returns, but it's different. Before, it was weak. This time, it sounds like the thing is on sonic speed.
When he pushes the tip against my clit, the vibrations are almost more than I can handle. At the same time, he thrusts deeply into me with his fingers. So deep that I nearly choke on my own moan. He plunges his fingers into me repeatedly, scissoring them and making them feel impossibly wide while he assaults my clit with the vibrator.
I can't hold on. The sensations are overwhelming. Overload.
A torrent of pleasure cries fall from my lips as my body shatters, my cunt hugging around his fingers while my clit throbs from the orgasm. It came on so quickly that I didn't even have a chance to prepare myself. Not that one actually needs to be prepared for an orgasm.
Almost the second the contractions overtake me, he's pulling the vibrator away and finishing me off with his thumb, feeling my clit pulse beneath it while he finger fucks me until the room is full of nothing but the sounds of heavy breathing and my moaning.
“You feel so sweet, coming all over my hand.” He lets out a short growl as he leans over to take my nipple between his teeth and gives it a good tug, sending a final tendril of pleasure through me. Then his fingers leave me, as does the rest of him, and I feel absolutely exhausted, simply lying there and catching my breath.
The bed shifts as he crawls off of it, and I'm left wondering what happens next. Even though I can't see through the blindfold, my head tries to follow him. It does a poor job though. I'm looking towards the foot of the bed, and before I know it, I can feel his hands unbinding my wrists. He slips the tie off of them, and then he leaves me again, his footsteps padding around the bed towards the chair. I stay in place, not wanting to move, wondering if he went to get some other implement to tease me with.
There's a rustling in the corner, which I can only associate with clothing. That's when I realize he's putting his shirt back on, and I try my best not to scowl. Our session is over.
“Can I take the blindfold off now?” I ask, trying not to sound upset.
“Yes. I'll leave you so that you can get dressed. Once you're done, you're free to go.”
By the time I pull the blindfold off, he has already buttoned his shirt to the top. Internally, I curse myself for not being more insistent about keeping the blindfold off. This is the regret I was worried about, but I still think it was worth it to experience the whole plethora of what I had signed up for.
He doesn't even tie the tie. He just slips it around his neck before heading toward the door. I stare at him, expecting him to say something. Anything. He doesn't though.
“Thanks,” I say pathetically, trying to catch him before he disappears out of my life forever.
He casts a glance at me over his shoulder, looking distant and cold. “You're welcome.”
Then he's gone, and I'm left wondering if everything that happened was real, or if he was just a dream.
