The A Little Bit Trilogy Bundle: A Little Bit Submissive; A Little Bit Rough; A Little Bit Controlling - A BDSM Erotica Romance

by Bebe Wilde

  I stepped back to study him. He was so fucking cool it was unbelievable. How could a man be this cool? But he was. He was cool, calm, collected. That was Roman. I couldn’t look him in the eye but I could stare at him all day long. But, God, to be like him, to be like that, a person who just was, who didn’t have all this baggage or emotional hang-ups… Well, that would be the coolest thing in the world.

  “Just don’t,” he said.

  “What do you mean? Don’t what?” I asked.

  “Don’t try,” he said. “Just do what I want you to do.”

  “Why would I do that?” I asked.

  “For me,” he said, a smart-assed twinkle in his eye. “For my love.”

  I rolled my eyes, hating the fact that he loved to tease me like this. “No. You need to get something straight. I would never do that. I refuse.” I stopped and stared at him then added, for good measure, just to piss him off, “I will never love you, either.”

  “But you will,” he said. “I know you will.”

  “I won’t,” I said and refused to even entertain the idea.

  “There is a price to love,” he told me, nodding slightly. “Are you willing to pay?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “So much change in the last week,” he said. “What happened?”

  I didn’t want to go into that. But I was having doubts, as usual. That’s why I had done this, why I was here, in this moment, wanting him to prove something. Prove what? That was anyone’s guess.

  But his mention of love… I didn’t know what to do with that. Love was all-encompassing to me. It meant everything and yet I ran from it, turned away from it. I had my reasons, of course, but I knew there was something else happening. We were now headed in that direction, some direction, if only I could make the commitment. Sure, something was making me hesitate. Perhaps it was a sense of finality that scared me. I was his real estate agent and once his house sold… Well, what then? Well, I would no longer see him that often. Would he make me his girlfriend? Did I want that? What would happen? The anticipation was killing me almost as much as the not knowing what would happen. Just what would happen?

  “I know what you want,” he said, telling me with his eyes that he did, he did know what I wanted.

  I cringed. I did want it. I wanted it just one more time. I wanted the bondage, the feeling of being out of control and letting him take the reins. But would he tie me up to set me free? Would I play the game again? Would he? I wanted more, that was for sure, but was I willing to do it again?

  I was.

  “Will you play the game?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “Will you play a different game this time?”

  I hesitated, not knowing if I should. “Roman, I—”

  He cut me off. “Yes or no?”

  Yes or no? How about no? Maybe we should just have sex like normal people for once in our lives.

  “Teagan?” he said softly. “Will you?”

  I nodded. I would. We weren’t purists. We made our own rules to the games. They left me wanting more, wanting to see how far we might push it. They were exciting and they were addicting. He was addicting. I could have fallen so hard for him, if only I would allow myself to do so. But right then, I would do as he wanted. I was going to let him take full control. He’d take it anyway. So, I might as well concede.

  “One moment,” he said in his slight French accent.

  I turned to watch him leave the living room in his fabulous mid-century house, the one I was trying to sell for him. The living room was sunken, two-steps down. I stared around the room, taking in the extravagant and expensive furniture and the art on the walls. There was a mirror, too, at the back of the room, a big, silver-leafed thing that took up almost an entire wall. I stared into it, at myself. I was pretty, beautiful even, with a petite and firm body and strawberry blonde hair. Roman was so much bigger than me. His body was solid, manly. His face handsome. His hair a dark blonde, cut short and set off his deep and electrifying blue eyes.

  He came back into the room, holding something behind his back. I stared up at him from my position on the couch and we didn’t speak for a moment, then he said, “You are hesitating.”

  I thought about that. I was. Things had happened to make me do so. It wasn’t entirely my fault.

  “Can you play this game?” he asked.

  I didn’t know if I could. I told him as much.

  “Very well, then,” he said. “If you can’t do it, be someone else.”

  He tossed something at me. I caught it and held it up. It was a mask; one made of rich black velvet and embroidered in blue silk. It was something someone would wear to a masquerade ball to keep themselves hidden but still part of the crowd. I got it. He wanted me to play a part of some sort.

  I liked it. I put it on without hesitation. “Who do you want me to be?” I asked, and stared at myself in the mirror. I was dressed to his liking: A banded cocktail dress that fit tightly and showed my body off in a supremely flattering way. The stilettos were five-inches and a deep, lipstick red. My hair was pulled back in a tight bun and my makeup fresh and light. This was the way he liked me. He loved to see my body contained in such a dress, in such a way. It was constricted and yet it was on display for him. The mask added to the allure. I looked like I could be off to a fabulous masquerade ball. But I wasn’t going anywhere, not anytime soon anyway.

  “Be whoever you like,” he said. “Do whatever you like, Teagan. That is the name of this game. To be someone who could do whatever they want to do.”

  Whoever I liked? Whatever I liked? Hmmm… I didn’t know what to do. “You want me to choose?” I asked.

  He shrugged, leaving the decision up to me. But if I made the wrong decision, he would be upset and that might lead to punishment, the riding crop or even his hand across my ass, putting me back into my place, happily, of course. Usually it was about him doing whatever he liked to me, but part of me was trying to turn that around. Maybe I should just get over it and just let him be in control, like he normally was. So, I said, “But I want you to do whatever you want.”

  He didn’t like my answer. That wasn’t what this game was about.

  I realized my blunder and sighed. “Roman?” I said. “Is that okay?”

  “Why not be someone else?” he said.

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Someone who trusts,” he replied.

  I thought about that. I wasn’t a person who trusted much, that was true. However, I’d play his game but that’s all I would do. And I’d play it because it was going to be fun. That’s what this was all about, the time we shared together. It was about playing games. The games were sometimes difficult but always ended with massive orgasms and an unspoken promise of more to come. I loved the games and kept coming back for more. What I didn’t understand was that he was using the games as a way to get to me, to break down my barriers.

  “Just be someone else,” he said.

  “What?” I asked, thinking I could go along with that. It was about control, his controlling me, his being more than a little bit controlling. Control. I knew why he did it but I didn’t understand his reasoning at first. I just thought he was kinky and liked this stuff. I couldn’t have been more wrong. He was much more complicated than that. While my only thoughts were, “More, please?” his thoughts were on something deeper, richer, more satisfying.

  But right then his command was for me to be someone else, to be someone that wasn’t afraid to do what she wanted. He was willing to comply, if only on his terms. He came over to me and then pushed me down on the couch. He was getting that look in his eye. He was going to give it to me, give me what for. My heart began to race with the anticipation.

  “Do you like that?” he asked.

  I did. I liked it a lot.

  “Real dominance means submitting in your mind, not on your knees.” He climbed over me. “Do you want that? Do you?”

  Was that what I wanted? To be put in my place, to be shown who
the man was? To be freed? To be let go? To be pushed to the point that I could no longer say no to the feelings he was stirring inside of me? Yes, I wanted that. I wanted him to take control, to throw me up against the wall and fuck me. Hard. Was it wrong that I wanted it? I didn’t know and I didn’t care.

  “Then you have to ask for it,” he said. “You have to want it. Why? Why do you want it?”

  I didn’t know. Not yet anyway.

  “Do you want it?”

  “Yes,” I breathed.

  “Tell me why.”

  What did I want to feel? Submission? No. No. I wanted to feel… Like I was being put in my place, like I knew my place in the world, in his world. To feel… Oh. God. Like a woman. So, yes, I wanted to feel submissive, like I wasn’t the one in control. I wanted to feel like a woman. It was there, instinctually, eating at me: Make me feel like a woman, like I am meant to feel. He was a man. He could do that. He could give me that. I knew he could. He’d done it before, hadn’t he?

  He got up and stood in front of me, looking down. I stood and tiptoed to get a kiss. He complied and kissed me hard, the way he usually did. I responded with a soft moan and pressed my body into his. He pulled back and then pushed me with determination to my knees. Was this the way it was supposed to be between a man and a woman?

  “Be someone else, Teagan,” he said.

  I looked up at him. Yes, I could do this. I could be someone else. And blowjobs were something I enjoyed giving to my man. While I loved for him to be in control, I loved having that bit of control over men, over the cock, putting them in a position of not being able to move, lest I stop. This was what he wanted, for me to be that woman like that, to be totally uninhibited, unapologetic. I did it without hesitation.

  I unzipped his pants and pulled his already hard cock out. I rubbed it all the way up and down the length for a few seconds before taking it in my mouth. He inhaled sharply as my lips made contact, then I put it in my mouth, sucking it hard, taking it all the way in. He held the back of my head as I continued to give it to him, taking my time to give him an enormous amount of pleasure. Once I tasted his pre-cum, I pulled back.

  In one quick instant, he grabbed me up under the arms and into his. I went with him, feeling a surge of passion, wrapping my legs around his waist. Our mouths found one another’s and we began to suck and lick and just kiss, long, amorous kisses, hot kisses, hard kisses. I hadn’t kissed anyone like I kissed him in… Well, in a long damned time. It felt good to kiss like that, to be so into it, to want more, to know where it would lead. That was the exciting part, knowing that this was merely a precursor to lots more good stuff.

  He carried me to the mirror, pressed my back up against it and began devour me with his hands and mouth. I slid out of his arms, my feet planted firmly on the floor, and just stood there, feeling these wonderful sensations as I looked at him, wanting to grab him but holding back the way I knew he wanted me to. He turned me around and unzipped my dress and, together, we pulled it off me. I stepped out of it, leaving just my underwear and the stilettos on.

  He surveyed my body and nodded with approval, with lust. He wanted me. I felt a surge of power from that, from his pure, unadulterated lust. I was about to reach out to him when he stepped back. He shook his head slightly and smiled a little.

  “I have something for you,” he said and left the room.

  I started to call out to him, not wanting him to leave me even for one second, but instead just stood there, almost naked and waiting. I looked down at my panties and bra, a set made of black lace. The bra pushed my breasts up so they looked delicious. I longed for his hands on them.

  He was back quickly, coming towards me, for me, with something in his hand. I stared at it. It was vibrator, a long and bulbous tipped flesh colored vibrator.

  “Spread your legs, please,” he said.

  I complied and opened them. He got down on his knees, turned the vibrator on and pressed it between my legs. My response was automatic. I gasped with pleasure, with the sensations it was giving my clit. I wanted to move against it and get that orgasm which was right there, right there and wanting release.

  But he wasn’t finished yet.

  He grabbed my panties and yanked them down and off my body. I spread my legs wider and immediately felt the vibrator again and he was slipping it inside of me. I gasped and bit down hard on my bottom lip. It was too much. I’d used a vibrator before, obviously, but had never had one used on me quite like this.

  Holding the vibrator steady and in position, his mouth clamped down on me, on my clit, sucking at it as the vibrator fucked me. I was so wet it was hard to get traction but I had to have it, that orgasm. His other hand slipped between my buttocks and began to play with me there. A finger slipped in. I threw my head back and nearly gyrated with pleasure. This was too much. It was too much! But I wanted more. More, more, more! I wanted his cock in me fucking me and I wanted the vibrator on my clit and I wanted his finger in my ass. I wanted his lips on my mouth and his other hand on my breasts. I was being greedy but I wanted it all and at once. I wanted every erogenous zone covered.

  He was doing his best to satisfy me and I loved him for it.

  Just then it exploded inside of me. The orgasm was so intense it was almost made me scream with pleasure. I was fiery with passion. My hands were on his head, holding him tight as my pussy ground against him. It was there, the orgasm, and then it was gone, leaving me breathless, wanting more. Lots and lots more.

  He stood and stared at me, at me standing there, post-orgasm, in the mask, almost as if I were a different person. I stared back and waited, wanting more and more and more of what he had to offer.

  Tossing the vibrator to the side, he stepped in and kissed me, opening his mouth wide to consume me. As he kissed me, he grabbed my bra and pulled it off my body, snapping it in two. It fell away and my breasts were there for his eyes to see, the nipples hard and wanting his touch, aching for his hands and mouth and lips. The nipples were hard and pointing, they were pink and longed for his mouth. He bent and sucked one in, nibbling at it. I moaned and ran my hands down his back, realizing he was still dressed.

  “I want you naked,” I moaned and tugged at his shirt.

  He pulled back and together we got him undressed. Clothes on the floor, forgotten, he came back to me, his cock hard and ready to fill me, wanting inside to fuck me senseless. I spread my legs, wanting to be entered like that, but he turned me around, grabbed me by the waist and pulled my ass up and to his cock. And then he was in, shoving himself deep inside of me a little roughly, making me gasp, but I could handle it and even ask for more.

  Once we were fucking, he pressed me up against the mirror. I was watching us fuck now. I liked that. I got what he was saying about becoming a different person because I felt different, like somebody else. That’s what the mask was about. I was fucking like a different person, someone who was just out to get hers. He loved it, I could tell. And so did I.

  He the untied the mask and threw it to the side so I had to look at myself, at me, getting fucked by him, Roman. I stared at my face, at me, getting fucked and then I got it. That sexually charged person I was just a few minutes ago was me, it was me, I was her, wanting it, wanting to be fucked and sucked and poked and prodded. He had released me by simply hiding me from myself for a few, intense minutes.

  His hand slipped between my legs and rested flat between them, fingering my clit as he fucked me from behind. Another hand grabbed my breast and squeezed. I felt so good, so wanted, so real. And I was getting fucked. He was pounding into me and I watched us fucking. It was the best feeling ever. Then the orgasm just came at me, pounced on me, and made me shake and grab onto his hand, grinding against it. I came hard, almost singing with the pleasure it gave me and felt like I was on top of the world, looking down, feeling everything I was meant to feel.

  He finished up, too, coming, pumping hard inside of me, shooting inside of my walls. I moaned as he came and then sighed loudly with satisfaction. />
  He turned me around and kissed me, holding me tightly. I hugged back and then slid my tongue along his neck. And then we were still, silent. It was over until next time. I wanted to say something but held my tongue. I didn’t want to spoil the mood and maybe I’d get lucky and we’d get a repeat.

  “Soon, you must make a choice,” he said.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You know what I’m talking about.”

  I looked away from him at the wall then I turned back to him. “I can’t. It’s too hard.”

  “Not really,” he said.

  But it was. It was too hard.

  “Why do I have to?” I asked, thinking that, maybe, I shouldn’t.

  “That’s the price of love,” he said.

  Yeah, but was it worth it?

  * * * * *

  The day it started, the day we had sex for the first time, he and my ex had gotten into a horrible fight. The police had even been called and both had been hauled away. I waited for him to return and, when he did, my mouth fell open at the state of his handsome face. It was bruised and swollen all because my ex had attacked him because of me. I was ashamed of that, that he’d suffered because of me. But I wanted him to know that I was truly very, very sorry. Once I said it, he went inside his house and shut the door in my face. But when I knocked, he opened it. When he did that, I knew there was more to him than met the eye and I knew there would be something between us.

  He let me into his house. I entered and then turned to him, feeling so remorseful, even though I hadn’t done anything wrong, not really. I walked to him and took his hand, squeezed it a little, telling him I was sorry. He nodded and sighed, looking away from me.

  “I knew you would,” he said.

  “Would what?”

  “Come back for more.”

  “No,” I said. “I just wanted to tell you I was sorry.”