I am Yours (An Alpha Male BDSM Romance)

by Linnea May

  And I was so ridiculously horny.

  He had suddenly taken the almost-empty mug of my umpteenth drink out of my hand, placed it on the table and pulled me closer.

  “I need you,” he whispered. “Now!”

  And without awaiting my reply he pulled me outside. He knew the area well and unerringly led me to a narrow and quiet backstreet. There, he stopped for a moment. Turning toward me, he asked, “So, where do you think would be good?”

  I shrugged, but pretended to be looking around. I don’t know, you decide, go wherever you want, do whatever you want to do to me. Horny dizziness was overrunning my body.

  The fact that he included me in his search for a public yet secret place made me feel secure. Maybe that was exactly what he was trying to achieve.

  There was nothing beautiful or romantic about this place. Weeds were tickling my legs as he opened his pants and unbuckled the belt that I was not allowed to touch. He got closer, pushing himself against my back.

  “Where do you want it?” he asked while his fingers skillfully found their way between my legs to see if I was ready for him. “Good girl,” he commented as he let two fingers glide inside me.

  “What?” I dizzily asked. “Where? What do you—”

  This, all of this, the place, the time, the situation made it look like rape, but my body told a different story. The wolf knew that he was welcome.

  He continued stroking my clit and I suddenly realized what he was talking about. “Oh…”

  I was unable to answer and started stuttering nonsense. I loved anal, but I needed preparation, more time. I didn’t know if I was ready just yet…

  And I was so drunk. Why did I drink so much?

  “It’s okay,” he softly whispered. “I’ll content myself with your pussy tonight.”

  He gave me a kiss on the left cheek that was almost innocent, puerile.

  “But be prepared,” he whispered. “I will want your ass eventually.”

  And with that he pushed himself inside me. I let out a loud moan, causing him to put his hand over my mouth.

  “Quiet, my little pet,” he warned. And he was right. It was not wise to attract any attention. We could easily be heard and found.

  Still, this time he didn’t go slowly. He fucked me hard, fast, furiously. Thoroughly shaking me. His roughness told me that he was far from sober himself, but still handling the drinks a lot better than I was. It hurt and felt so good at the same time.

  I carefully reached down to play with myself.

  “Good girl,” he breathed without stopping. The feeling of fullness was overwhelming. Every thrust was accompanied by just enough pain to intensify my arousal. Again, I was too aroused to prolong my orgasm for long.

  “I’m gonna…” I slurred. “May I?”

  “You may,” he breathlessly answered.

  8

  I almost collapsed in front of him when my orgasm hit me with unexpected force. He was still holding my mouth shut with his hand, so I would not let out a sound and reveal ourselves to the outside world. But his hand also made it hard for me to breathe.

  Eventually, my intoxication, the sudden release of my arousal, and the breathing trouble teamed up to force me down on my knees. For a split second, all my muscles relaxed and I blacked out, hardly realizing that I was heading toward the grass beneath me.

  He let out a sound of surprise and jumped forward to catch me just in time before I actually hit the ground.

  Holding me in his arms, slowly going down on his knees, he let me sink to the ground. I had my eyes closed, but I could feel his eyes resting on me.

  “Fuck,” I faintly whispered. “I am so s—”

  “It’s okay,” he interrupted. “Just calm down, my pet.”

  I weakly shook my head. I was so embarrassed. How could I have been so stupid? What was I doing?

  “I have… work,” I slurred, completely out of context. He made a soothing sound and wiped away the cold sweat on my forehead.

  “It’ll be okay,” he said. He sounded angry.

  I forced myself to open my eyes, so I could catch his look. He was looking down at me with a stern expression. Worried maybe. Or disappointed? Mad? I couldn’t tell. Why was his face so hard to read?

  “I am sorry,” I breathed with a pathetically broken voice.

  All he replied was, “I know you are.”

  I felt terrible and tried to pull myself together to get up. But he squeezed me in his arms, holding me down.

  “No,” he said. “I don’t want you to fall right back as soon as you get up.”

  A faint smile fled across his face.

  “Gather yourself for a moment. We have the time,” he said.

  “Yes, sir,” I whispered.

  “You’ll need to get used to this,” he said. “We are only getting started.”

  Part 3

  Being Yours

  “You are too much,” I whispered so weakly I was pretty sure that he couldn’t understand a word I was saying.

  But he could. The wolf was carrying me. Not with pride. Not like prey, but like a pathetic portrayal of a girl who wasn’t able to handle her alcohol. My legs were failing me, my entire body was sunken in, feeble and useless. I was stumbling next to him. My feet were still on the ground, but it made no difference. If he’d let go, I would sink to the ground instantly.

  “Hush,” he said. Just that. With his stern Dom voice that I loved so much, but scared me in this moment.

  He dragged me to a group of cabs that were waiting for customers just outside the main streets of Kabukicho.

  “Pull yourself together,” he ordered. I was still aware enough to understand why he said that and tried to straighten up. Most cab drivers were suspicious of foreigners to begin with, because they feared having to speak English. Being drunk did not help. It did help that I was a woman though, and that the man carrying me appeared to be sober and in control.

  He helped me get into the cab while I tried to appear as normal as possible. And then he followed and placed himself next to me on the back seat.

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Yes, I do,” he interrupted. “Tell him your address.”

  Damn.

  I stuttered my compulsory greeting, maybe even a bit too polite and my address in what I thought to be perfect Japanese. The cab driver looked at me, bewildered. I repeated what I had said before, but he still cast me that confused look.

  Again, it was the wolf who saved me. Apparently, I had mixed up two syllables—easy enough for him to understand, but the cab driver was probably too busy figuring out how drunk I was. Or why I was the one speaking with him in the first place.

  He eventually gave his okay and started driving. I sank down in the wolf’s arm, my head deeply tilted forward.

  “I am so sorry,” I whispered without looking at him.

  He squeezed me lightly.

  “It’s okay,” he said.

  “It’s not,” I objected.

  “It is for now,” he assured me. For now.

  The drive wasn’t long. If I hadn’t been so badly intoxicated, I probably would have walked home, because my apartment was still in Shinjuku, only about a thirty-minute walk from Kabukicho. I was a good walker and I especially enjoyed lengthy night time walks. But not today.

  When we got to my building, I made an effort to grab my wallet, but the wolf held me back and paid before I was able to object.

  “You shouldn’t—”

  “Hush,” he said again and helped me to get out of the car.

  “Is this it?” he asked, looking up the twenty-five story building I was living in.

  “Yes,” I breathed. He was still holding me. Even in this pathetically intoxicated state I enjoyed his proximity to no end. He smelled so good, felt so good. Why on earth did I have so many drinks? What had I been so nervous about?

  “Okay,” he said. “What floor?”

  “I’m okay now, you don’t have to—”

  “For God’s sake,”
he interrupted. “Tell me what floor.”

  “Nineteenth,” I obediently replied. “Sir.”

  He led me to the door and supported me while I searched for my keys that had mysteriously disappeared to the bottom of my handbag. Of course. It took forever to find them and I let out a sigh of relief when I finally did.

  We got on the elevator. To my surprise, his entire demeanor changed as soon as the door closed behind us. I was still staggering like a newborn deer, but he paid no attention to that and pushed me against the wall, forcefully straightening me up. I gagged in surprise and looked up to him. He grabbed my chin with one hand, tilting my head up a little bit more.

  “I will make sure that you get home and to bed safely,” he whispered while fixating me with his incredibly sexy gaze. “And it makes me mad that you are trying to stop me from doing so.”

  “I am sorry,” I slurred. “Sir. I am sorry, sir!”

  “It won’t happen again?” he asked. I wasn’t sure exactly what he was talking about. Me getting drunk? Or me trying to get home on my own after I’d had too much?

  Damn, I felt so incredibly dizzy and sick…

  “It won’t happen again,” I promised.

  “Good,” he said and the door opened behind him.

  I led the way to my apartment, unsure whether he was planning to enter with me.

  Apparently, he was. I unlocked the door, got rid of my shoes in the entrance area, and so did he. I looked up at him in surprise.

  He drew me closer to him and planted a kiss on my forehead.

  “I want to bring you to bed,” he whispered.

  “Um, but I—” I clumsily slurred.

  “No,” he said. “Just so you can sleep.”

  Again, my eyes opened wide. “What? Why?”

  “Because you’re mine,” he said. “And I want to make sure you’re safe.”

  I had no idea how to reply to that, so I just made an effort to get rid of my jacket. Drunk as I was, this turned out to be a harder task than usual. Eventually, he helped me.

  I cast him a thankful look when he put my jacket on the coat rack.

  “You’ll have some water before you go to sleep,” he ordered.

  I smiled. “Yeah, I will. Thank you for—”

  “No, I mean now!”

  He grabbed my arm, more gently than he usually did, but still purposefully and hard enough for me to know that there was no point in back talk.

  He dragged me to the kitchen and I poured myself a big glass of water, and he did not let go of my arm the entire time.

  “Finish it,” he said. “And then another one.”

  I didn’t even try to object. I wasn’t thirsty at all and drinking water by the gallon was the last thing I wanted to do right now. But I knew he was right, and his way of caring was oddly hot. Maybe there was still hope for a little more, like a goodnight orgasm. I wouldn’t care if it brought me down on my knees this time.

  “Good girl,” he said after I had finished the second glass. Of course, this only intensified my hope.

  I put down the empty glass and looked up to him, trying to read his expression. His gaze was fixed on me, as it usually was. But again, his black eyes were unreadable.

  I put on an innocent smile. “Time for bed?”

  He just nodded, obviously expecting me to lead to the way to my bedroom.

  I was still having immense trouble walking straight and held on to him the entire time during the short way from my kitchen to the bedroom. My heart started racing in excitement.

  And indeed, his first order when we got to the room was the same as it had been during our first night in the love hotel.

  “Undress.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I tried to be as elegant as possible, but failed miserably. My clothes were glued to my body, almost impossible to peel off. It took me forever to get out of my dress. When I finally did, I was standing in front of him in my underwear and stockings, unsure whether I was to continue.

  He was sitting on my bed, observing me in his usual Dom manner, showing no physical reaction to my hesitation, except for whispering, “Continue.”

  I rolled down my stockings, slowly, trying to look good while doing so. I had no idea if I managed. He appeared to be neither pleased nor unpleased with what I was doing. Even when I took off my bra, there was no reaction from his end. Only as I made an effort to take off my thong did he interrupt me.

  “Do you usually sleep naked?”

  I looked at him, bewildered. “Um… no.”

  He stood up and walked toward me, and gently put his hands on my shoulders as he looked down on me. His touch was electric. My entire body subtly started shivering and my intoxicated self could not prevent letting out a little sigh. I wanted him so much.

  “You should keep that on then, shouldn’t you?” he asked, leading me to the bed.

  I was confused. What kind of game was he playing now? I eagerly complied when he told me to lie down. Awaiting his move, I lay down on my back, looking up in anticipation. He mirrored my look, and this time he was smiling. I held my breath when he leaned down.

  “Do you want a goodnight kiss?” he asked, with his face so close to mine I could feel his breath on my skin.

  “Yes, sir. Please.”

  And what a kiss it was! He started out carefully, teasing my lips while I yearned for more until he finally invaded my mouth with the same force I had fallen for from the very first moment we met. But slower. It was so slow, so intense. His tongue considered every part of mine, intertwining desperately, asking for more, aching for our bodies to be connected in the same way. I started to squirm beneath him, longing for his touch.

  And then he stopped. Breathing heavily, I opened my eyes to find his eyes searching mine.

  “Good night, my pet,” he whispered.

  And he got up.

  “What?! I—” I helplessly slurred, trying to sit up. But he held me back by the shoulders.

  “Stay here, sleep. I am leaving.”

  “I don’t want you to leave.”

  “And yet I will.”

  I frowned. He covered my almost-naked body with a blanket, tucking me in like a little child.

  “Remember, obey,” he said. “Stay here and sleep. I will find my way out.”

  I cast him a frantic look. I am horny now! Play with me! How could he do this?

  “Can’t you just a little?”

  “No,” he interrupted. “I have to work tomorrow, and so do you. Sleep.”

  He straightened up and looked down at me one last time. “We will have a little talk next time.”

  So, there was going to be a next time. I felt a sense of relief.

  But that relief was soon overshadowed by disappointment and unfulfilled lust when he walked out the door.

  1

  I was a complete wreck. My head was hammering, a dull beating of pain in step with my heartbeat. At least my stomach had calmed down, it seemed.

  But of course I was too stubborn to call in sick. I had to get to the office, if only to prove to myself that I could do this, that I was a—sort of—responsible grown-up who was in control of her life. Party hard, work hard.

  When I dragged myself in front of the mirror in the bathroom the next morning, I made another discouraging discovery. There were hickeys on my neck. I counted three. Two of them were rather faint, but the third was very dark and visible. How had I not noticed those before? They couldn’t be from last night, but from two nights before, as far as I could remember.

  I did my best to cover them up with makeup and wore a rather big scarf that day. It was still rather chilly outside, so my getup should not be too suspicious.

  I got to work a little late, but I got there, doped with aspirin and so much water that I felt sick. I also had a little coffee, but didn’t dare to eat anything as my stomach had revolted in the middle of the night, forcefully getting rid of what little I had eaten the day before.

  Luckily, it was a slow Monday. No one noticed that I
was late—and no one would have cared.

  It was almost eleven a.m. when I started to worry. No message from him. Not a single one. I pathetically checked my phone and my messenger every five minutes at least. It was torture and left me a lot of room for regret, a lot of time and space to think about my mistake, my embarrassing behavior, and the degrading way the night had ended.

  He had said something about next time, though.

  It was shortly before lunch when I finally dared to text him myself. I just couldn’t take it any longer.

  “I am sorry for last night.”

  I knew he didn’t like to hear that, but it was the only thing I could think of.

  His reply came instantly. “How are you feeling?”

  “Terrible.”

  “Are you at work?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  Okay, so far so good. I leaned back, carefully checking what Steph was doing at her desk. She looked busy, squinting her eyes at the computer screen, as she always did. She needed glasses, but was too image-conscious to get them. But whatever she was squinting at, it kept her occupied.

  “You said we would have a little talk the next time we meet?” I asked the wolf.

  “Yes, we need to.”

  That was all he replied. I waited for a few seconds to see if there was more coming, but there wasn’t.

  “So… when can I see you next?”

  “As soon as you have recovered enough, my pet.”

  2

  I declared my recovery to be over a day later, but he wanted to wait until Friday until we saw each other again, which was just as well with me. At least I wouldn’t risk another blackout at work this way.

  I took extra care with my appearance that night. Spent a lot of time on my hair, my makeup, and decided to wear a dress that was especially sexy, but still classy. It was a short, black dress that showed off my figure without being too daring, even though it had taken some time for me to get used to the cleavage it was revealing. I liked my boobs; they were rather big, well-proportioned, and firm. This dress made them appear bigger than they actually were, which of course was not necessarily a bad thing.