Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 140874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
When I raised my mouth, he pulled me back to him, gently. He still held my hair, and he lifted my crumpled panties to wipe the trickle of water from the corner of my mouth and the tear tracks from my cheeks.
“Come along.” His grip on my hair tightened, and he tugged me toward the door.
He didn’t let go of me until we stood beside our neatly made bed.
“On your back.” He tugged at his belt and unzipped his fly. “Now.”
I did as he asked, a thrill of excitement sparking through me. I loved getting fucked this way, wrapping my legs around him and raking my nails down his biceps. Well, when he left my hands free. He was awfully fond of holding or tying my wrists together to frustrate me.
Not this time, though. No sooner than I’d lain down, he was on top of me, pushing into my swollen, achy cunt. I gripped his shoulders and arched my back, and he pinned my head to the bed with a fistful of my hair.
“Look at me, Sophie.”
I opened my eyes to meet his, and I was instantly lost. This was the man I was going to marry. This was the man I was starting a life, building a family with. I mean, sure it was a weird family with all sorts of strange relationships in it, but we were doing it together. And despite our problems and all the bumps in the road, when I looked into his eyes, I saw the same depth of love that I felt for him, directed back at me.
Fuck, I loved therapy night.
Neil’s slow, steady strokes brought me to another, gentler climax. I floated on the pleasure, totally euphoric, clutching his arms and whimpering mindlessly, but I didn’t look away from his intense green gaze. He didn’t break eye contact with me, either, panting and groaning as he ground deep and found his own release.
For a minute, we just stared at each other in mutual disbelief. We had a lot of fun, awesome sex, but every now and again, we surprised ourselves with how emotionally momentous fucking could be.
He kissed me then rested his forehead against mine. “Well, that didn’t last as long as I expected.”
I laughed and wriggled beneath him, and he slipped out, but stayed poised over me on his elbows. I reached up and pushed back his sweaty hair. “I liked it.”
“I like you.” He kissed the tip of my nose then rolled off me.
“You’re not so bad,” I conceded, snuggling happily beside him to rest my head on his shoulder. He turned out the light and hit the remote to turn off the television. The dressing room light was still on, painting dim lines along our shapes in the dark.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked as he drew the covers over us. “Water? Some Ibuprofen or ice?”
“Nah.” Though I would be incredibly sore in the morning. “Just hold me. That’s all the aftercare I need right now.”
“What do you get out of it?” Neil asked softly, running his knuckles up and down my arm. “Submission? I’ve never quite grasped the draw.”
“Hmm,” I pondered, very profoundly. After a moment, I followed that brilliance up with, “I don’t know. I guess it’s it the feeling of not having to make decisions? I mean, I think all the time. My brain never stops going. And there are times that you get me so deep into subspace that my body won’t even make involuntary decisions without your prior approval.”
“To me, that sounds horrible.” He actually shivered. “I feel a bit guilty, like I’m the one having all the fun. I know that isn’t true, from a logical standpoint, because I’m certain that if you didn’t want to be doing any of this, you wouldn’t do it.”
“That’s true,” I agreed. “I don’t know. I like being used. Feeling powerless. It gives me a rush. And I know I’m safe with you, so I can enjoy that.”
“But I’ve been powerless for a long time. And I didn’t like it.” He sounded so unusually helpless that my heart twisted.
Neil had known about his cancer for four years before we’d met. He’d managed with drugs that had only postponed the inevitable chemotherapy and transplant, but of course he’d felt powerless. Death was the one thing he couldn’t buy, reason, or charm his way out of, and that had blown his entire worldview apart.
Not to mention the horrible experience he’d had when he’d tried to sub before. His Dom had been a guy who’d basically used a technicality as an excuse to commit sexual battery; he’d claimed he hadn’t realized Neil was truly distressed when he’d forgotten his safe word. Neil had balked when I’d called it what it was—rape—but I stuck by the label. The thought of someone hurting Neil made me so angry, I hoped I would never meet the asshole who’d done it.