by Skye Warren
“Stop,” I said, and he froze.
“Take off your shirt.”
He pulled his hands back to tear off his shirt. I held my hand out. He put his shirt in it. Then he stood straight, hands by his side. His eyes were intense and dark, fixed on my face, waiting for my next command. His arousal was an obvious bulge in his jeans. I could feel his body straining for more, to touch me and to take his pleasure, but I knew that he wouldn’t. Not until I told him to.
I didn’t want to tie him down, to take his choice away, because I never wanted to make someone feel what I felt, the helplessness and the shame. If he wanted to give this to me, that was something different. Every act of obedience, every moment of sweet restraint he showed, was a gift.
I reveled in my power. I stepped up to him and put my fingertips on his chest. I trailed them down and in circles, tracing the contours of his muscles. Those muscles contracted and rippled with unfulfilled pleasure. His breathing quickened and his bulge grew more obvious.
“Your pants. Remove them,” I said.
He reached up and carefully undid his jeans, and they dropped to the floor. He hooked his thumbs in his underwear and hesitated.
“Yes,” I told him, “Those too.”
He pushed them down to the floor with his jeans and stepped out of them. I hadn’t seen much of his body the last time. He’d remained fully clothed except for his cock, which he’d taken out to fuck me. I hadn’t really gotten to see that—only feel it.
I examined it now, taking my time. It was average thickness, but it seemed longer than average. I was surprised I had taken it without any pain. Although maybe he hadn’t put it in all the way, deep inside me. Maybe he’d held back.
He was already so hard that his cock pointed straight out and upwards. The skin was dark, and a glistening drop sat on the tip. I wondered at his self-control to stand there for my perusal.
“Do you like this?” I asked.
He looked at me.
“Answer me,” I said. “Do you like standing there, waiting for me to tell you what to do?”
“Yes,” he said, his voice thick. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”
“Good. Because I like this, too. I like telling you what to do. I like watching you stand there, having to wait. And I like this.” I touched my fingertip to the tip of his cock. His cock jerked, and my cunt clenched in response.
I wanted to explore him. To learn everything about him. His mind, yes, but that was for later. For now, I wanted to know what he smelled like, what he tasted like, the shade of his skin underneath his cock and his balls. Still fully dressed, I stepped over to a kitchen chair and sat down.
He remained where he was, facing the wall.
“Come here,” I told him.
Chapter Five
He stepped between my legs. Even sitting down in front of him, with his cock standing proudly in my face, power coursed through me. I gripped his cock in my hand and squeezed lightly, savoring the catch in his breath. I pumped up and down, not too fast and not too hard, teasing him.
Holding the base of his cock in my fist, I touched my tongue to the tip of his cock—not licking him, just pressing down my tongue into his slit. He groaned softly. I slipped my lips around him and pushed forward to take him into my mouth a few times. He caught my rhythm and his hips thrust forward. I reached up my other hand and tapped his hip. No, no moving allowed. His hips stilled.
I continued sucking him in a steady rhythm to see if he would move. His breathing grew ragged, but he stayed mostly still. I pulled my mouth off of him and trailed tiny licks and pressed kisses and light touches of my teeth down the underside of his cock. When I reached his balls, I cleaned them with my tongue and sucked on them. His entire body jerked at that, but I assumed it was involuntary and didn’t chastise him again.
Lower I went, down the underside of his balls. I couldn’t reach, his legs were too close. I tapped again, this time on the inside of his thighs. Wider. He widened his stance. I used my fist on his cock like a handle, lifting it up and out of the way. I resumed licking his balls, reaching underneath until I hit the seam where they met his body. My face was buried in his groin, and his musk was overpowering, intoxicating. I licked with my tongue, anywhere I could, not quite reaching his asshole.
He started to shake and pump his hips erratically, and I thought he might be close to coming. His long, tormented groan confirmed it. I tapped his hip again, but then figured nonverbal cues may not be enough.
I lifted my head and said, “Don’t come. I’ll tell you when you can come.” His eyes were glazed over and I knew my suspicions were correct. He seemed to focus on me and calm himself. He nodded.
I had felt more powerful with my clothes on, but now they felt like a hindrance. I pulled off my shirt abruptly, enjoying his sharp intake of breath. Then I pulled my bra off and watched his eyes glaze over while looking at my breasts.
“You wanted to touch me here. Before,” I said with emphasis—when he was fucking me. “Well? Tell me. Did you want to touch them when I was lying there, helpless?”
“Yes,” he gasped. “I’m sorry.”
“Why?”
“They are so beautiful. I knew they would be, even when I’d only seen you at the bar. And then seeing them bare and in front of me, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry for finding them beautiful, for wanting to touch them. Do it.”
He reached his hand up, but I stopped him. The power was amazing. It wasn’t a role, in that moment, but just me. Doing what I wanted, telling him what I wanted him to do. Sex had only ever been a compromise, and sometimes a reluctant one, but this was all me.
“No,” I said. “With your cock.”
He paused and his eyes flew to me, but I didn’t help him out. It had come to me as an idea, as I watched his beautiful cock bob in close proximity to my naked breasts. I wasn’t even sure what I wanted him to do, but I was content to let him figure it out.
He gripped his cock in his fist, holding it more like a weapon than something tender. He moved his hips forward until the tip of his cock bumped my nipple. When he pulled back slightly, a bead of pre-cum glistened on my nipple.
I felt entranced by my arousal and my power. I had never realized how many thoughts would flicker through my brain, ideas and requests that I had never voiced. Now I was given a free pass for anything I wanted. He wouldn’t judge and he wouldn’t say no.
“Suck me there. Taste yourself on me.”
He immediately knelt before me—he, the errant knight, and me the benevolent queen—and latched his mouth onto my breast, sucking me greedily. I felt the pulls through my breast and down in my cunt.
“The other side,” I gasped.
He started to lean over, but I put my fingers on his arm to stop him. I pointed down to his cock. He stood up, and, more hurriedly this time, more crudely, he coated my nipple with his pre-cum. Then he knelt down and suckled me, cleaning all of his cum off of my breast and then sucking more.
“Stand back up.”
I pulled his body up again, using his cock as a gentle lead. He leaned into me, following my physical commands. I trailed his cock down along my breast, from the inner edge to the underside and down along my ribs.
When I released him, he knelt down again and licked along the trail I had drawn.
“Enough.” I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could take. I doubted I could come from nipple stimulation alone, but I thought a tiny rock against the seam of my jeans might finish me.
He stood up. I gripped his cock and pulled it into my mouth again. He gasped. I almost smiled, but I couldn’t with my mouth full of cock.
He was too long for me to really take into my mouth. I could take the tip, and then halfway in, which would be plenty enough on most guys. I wanted more, all of him. Maybe most women wouldn’t do this for him, wouldn’t even try, not all the way. He was too long and too hard. I wanted to do it, and then forever I would have that part of him.
I began working hi
m deeper on every suck, until I could feel him hitting the back of my throat. I forced myself to even breaths and a steady rhythm, and got him deeper still. My gag reflex kicked in, but I continued my thrusts. I felt him tense, and I knew that he wanted to tell me not to, that I didn’t have to do that. That wasn’t the game we were playing, and he knew it. He stayed quiet. Well, except for his ragged moans.
I gagged again and paused. I took a deep breath and focused on relaxing my throat, relaxing my entire body. Opening my throat for his cock, opening my mind to the sensations. I began to suck him in a steady rhythm again. Deeper, deeper. He cried out. I felt him push back into my throat. It burned a little, stretching, but I ignored it. His pubic hair tickled my nose. There was a little more there, but I wouldn’t be able to take it. That was the deepest anyone had probably taken him.
“Wait,” he gasped, barely understandable, “I can’t … Oh Christ … Rachel …”
I pulled out until his tip was in my mouth and paused. I didn’t want him to come like this because I wanted him to fuck me—but if it was too late, I would let him ride it out here anyways. He took deep gulps of air, and his body vibrated with tension, but he didn’t come.
I stood up and he stepped back, his body coated in a shiny sheen of sweat. I took off my jeans and sat at the edge of the kitchen table, legs open and feet resting on the chairs. With anyone else, I hated this position, so open, so exposed. I didn’t have to worry about what he would do to me or what he would think of me.
“Kneel,” I said.
He knelt centered in front of me because he knew what he would do next.
I waited, letting him look at me and gathering up my courage for this. Some of it had slipped away when it came to turning the tables.
“Lick me,” I said.
He leaned forward. His breath touched me before his tongue did. Slowly, softly, he licked me from bottom to top, wide but not deep.
“More,” I said, unable to provide more detailed instructions. “Make me come.”
He moaned and licked me again and again. He used his tongue to delve between my lips. He swirled up around my clit, pressing me and pleasuring me until I was pumping my hips up off the table.
I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. “Ahhhh, more, do it, more, yes, that’s right, so good.”
I came hard, pushing mindlessly into his face. I collapsed back onto the table, spread out on my back with my arms open and my legs spread wide.
Sated, I looked up at him. “Do you want to fuck me?”
His expression, tense with longing, was a sharp contrast to my contentment. “Yes.”
“You fucked me before. I didn’t really have a choice.”
“I know,” he said roughly.
“You are sorry,” I said, a statement. I knew it was true.
“Yes,” he said.
“I could leave you with that,” I gestured at his erection, so hard and primed and poised right near my wet cunt. Just a few inches closer and he’d be inside me. “I could tell you to walk away with that. It would be fair.”
“Yes,” he growled.
“You would walk away if I told you to.” I knew that was true also.
“Yes,” he said. “Please.” He did look desperate. I wanted him inside me.
“Okay,” I said. “Fuck me.”
He gripped my hips and slammed his cock inside me, sending shockwaves through my body. I cried out at the force of it.
“Condom,” he said, breathing hard.
“Birth control,” I managed to get out.
And protection beyond that seemed ludicrous considering we’d already done this.
He pulled back out and slammed into me again.
He was above me, fucking me, in the same position as last time, but this was totally different. Or maybe it wasn’t so different—in both cases he was serving me, by providing his protection or his obedience.
“Can’t be gentle. Tell me to stop,” he panted.
“Don’t stop,” I commanded.
He continued thrusting into me, his flesh slapping mine, his body rocking mine against the table. He was ruthless. It was a reaction to all that restraint that he had showed, to be able to let loose now.
“Shit. Christ. I need you to come,” he said.
“It’s okay. I don’t need to again.”
He groaned in answer. He kept pummeling into me. I felt it building up again, and I tightened my legs around his waist. I thought about asking him to stop, but I wasn’t sure he really had control anymore. I didn’t want to set him up to fail me, to ask him to do something he physically couldn’t.
He was hitting the right angle for me, and I could feel myself getting closer. So close.
He started coming, shuddering and groaning. I was too close. I ground my hips into his, setting off my orgasm. I used the weight of his body to ride the waves even after he had collapsed on top of me.
We both lay on the table, damp from sweat and other bodily fluids, as our breathing evened out. I felt the same connection as before, and I wondered if it really meant something this time.
I was a girl, and though I’d never considered myself one of the stupid ones, I knew I might be confusing physical completion with emotional fulfillment. Or, even if my feelings for him were real, he might not have any at all. This was the weirdest conceivable situation to me. An entirely inauspicious start to a relationship, but here we were.
As far as I was concerned, the game was over, the one where I was in charge. That had ended the moment the sex had ended. Or maybe before that.
He stood up and pulled out of me. I felt bereft. Would he leave now? He pulled on his clothes and handed me mine, and I dressed quickly.
“What happens now?” I asked.
“Whatever you want to happen,” he answered.
I gave him a look.
“It’s not a bullshit answer, it’s the truth. I’m … I’m whatever you want.”
“Oh, great. My own personal guilt slave.”
“No. It’s not that. Not only that.” He sighed. “I want you, but I know I can’t have you. What I did doesn’t go away. You may have let me be with you for this, for sex, but I know I can’t keep you. For however long you want me here, I’ll be here.”
Was it possible? “What if I want you to stay?”
“Then I’ll stay,” he said.
“The night?” I asked, unsure what I wanted his answer to be.
“However long.”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” he agreed. “You’ll need to notify your patrol that you have company.”
“My patrol?”
“Your protection,” he said. “Surely it was a twenty-four hour watch?”
“Oh, that. I refused it.”
His eyes widened, “What do you mean, you refused it?”
“Um, just what I said. I didn’t need it. I didn’t want more men hanging around my apartment.”
“Those men would protect you!” He seemed really upset, like I wasn’t making sense.
“Look,” I said reasonably. “You’ll be here tonight, right? So let’s worry about this tomorrow.”
“Dammit, that’s not the point. Besides, I don’t count as protection,” he muttered the last words.
“An FBI agent doesn’t count as protection?”
“No,” he said harshly, “I’m not.”
“Did you get fired?” I asked incredulously.
“No. I quit.”
“What? Why? Because of this? Because of me?” I knew I sounded hysterical but the words were pouring out that way.
“Not because of you, because of me. If I couldn’t protect you, then what good am I to anyone? Look, we don’t need to discuss it. It doesn’t matter.” I didn’t bother to explain that he did protect me. We both knew what happened, but knowing it didn’t make the pain of it disappear.
“It does matter. It damn well matters.”
“I didn’t come here to tell you that. Or to fight with you. I wanted to … well, I wanted to
tell you to press charges, first of all. Since I expected you to but you didn’t. But I never dared to think that I … well, I guess I wanted to see if you needed anything. I assumed you had protection, at least. Fuck.”
“I don’t know why you’re so bent out of shape about it. They said they had caught most of the guys.”
“I’m sure they said that to you,” he said. “But these gangs, they’re not some well-defined group with an org chart. They have friends and enemies everywhere, making plays we can’t anticipate. That night didn’t put an end to the gang war, it only injured them, and they’ll be coming back even stronger. If someone on the outside finds out that you were there that night, then they’ll come after you, try to use you as leverage.”
He looked away and blew out his breath. What was he thinking?
He looked back at me, his eyes in turmoil but his mouth set in a grim line. “Okay then. You want me to stay? I’m staying here. You’ve hired yourself a bodyguard.”
Chapter Six
Ring. Ring. Ring.
My body jerked as I came awake. Looking over at the phone, I snaked my hand outside the blanket to pick it up. Dial tone. Beside me, Zachary was already getting out of bed. I didn’t stop myself from checking out his bare, muscled ass as he bent to pick up his jeans off the floor. He pulled a cell phone out of the pocket.
“Kant, here.”
A pause.
“Right now?”
Another pause.
“Okay. Be there in fifteen.”
He turned back to me, his face blank.
“You’re leaving,” I said, trying not to let my disappointment come through.
“Have to,” he said. His face was that emotionless mask I was coming to recognize, even if I still hated it. He used it only when he had bad news. “There’s increased chatter regarding the gang activity, and I need to check in. Listen, you can come with me to the station.”
I made a face. “I don’t think so.” I had no desire to be around a bunch of cops, who’d look at me with either suspicion or pity.
“You’ll be safer with me. And you’ll be safe at the station, even when I’m busy working there.”
