Page 2 of Bound By Brielle (Crave & Cure Productions)

My mind fogs with anticipation as I slide into my car and start it. Reversing out of my spot, I wait until headlights are behind me, then hit the gas.

It’s the longest nineteen minutes of my life.

Pulling my car into the garage, I keep the door open until he’s there, standing in my driveway, the early moonlight melting over his shoulders making my core throb. I motion toward the front and meet him there, on my porch, closing the garage behind me.

I don’t know why, but I feel compelled to tell him that this isn’t a spur of the moment,you looked good today, out of pocket thing. “A year,” I breathe, my voice rocky and low, maybe surprising me as much as Lance. “That’s how long I’ve thought about this. How long I’ve wanted you.”

His lips part, but he struggles a heady moment before murmuring, “I’ve been at Crave a year and a month.”

My mouth is cotton, but I lick my lips, staring at his. “I know.”

Then it’s slamming doors and kicked off shoes, shirts getting stuck, stumbled steps, mouths crashing together and grunts echoing around my home. And before I know it, we’re in boxer briefs in my hallway, and I have his wrists pinned above his head with one hand, grinding him into the wall.

“I want this mouth on my cock,” I whisper, dragging my lips against his, his warm breath against me driving me mad. “I want these lips on my body,” I add, taking a kiss from his eager mouth, loving the way he strains from the wall to meet my lips. “I want you beneath me, writhing, and I want to hold you in my palm while I fuck you, and watch you unravel, every last fucking thread.”

He barely nods, his voice hoarse. “I want that, too.”

Spinning him to face the wall, I grind my cock into his backside, my balls aching when he moans. “I want every inch of you. I want to own every fucking inch of you,” I breathe, dragging my tongue up the back of his neck. “My passive little pup.”

Fighting my hold, he spins in my arms, our hard cocks grinding together, so subtly erotic I groan. Through the darkness, his features pinch.

“What?” I breathe, moving my hips against his. Fuck he’s big like me, and I’m no size king, but I fucking like that it’s thick and long, too. I imagine his cock in my fist as I hover over him, fucking him in measured strokes until he spills everywhere.

“You–you’re dominant, yes?” he asks, taking a nip at my neck, need wrapping my spine at the feel of his stubble grating my heated skin.

My eyes search his. “I am.”

“Could you,” he starts, nostrils flaring as I press my groin to his, unable to stop. Truly, I can’t stop touching this man. “Could you be submissive, ever?”

“I,” I start, wanting to tell him anything to keep him here, fair or not. Then again, as my eyes search his hazy blue ones, his thick length hard against me, I think I would give him anything. Anything he needed or wanted to stay with me, be with me, belong to me. “I could,” I say, the response honest. I’m not a switch, I’ve never been. But for Lance? I would be.

I think.

“Yes, I could, I could sub for you.” I crash my mouth to his, our tongues thrashing through moans. “Do you need—are you–” I can’t find the words.

“The dominant director,” he breathes, lips turning up slightly. “I don’t need to be in control often, but I do need it from time to time.”

It’s our first time together tonight, and yet something passes between us in the darkened hallway, like we both know we’re not discussing the terms of a fling. We’re planning something much longer.

Forever, maybe.

I nod fervently, grabbing him by the wrist, dragging him toward the master bedroom. “Yes,” I promise, willing to promise the world for him. “From time to time, I can. I will.”

And then he’s beneath me on my mattress, reaching into his boxers as I straddle his face.

“Open.”

one

I’ve completely given into my woe is me moment

brielle

“Brielle!”Tony calls from behind the counter, his red cheeks and wide smile making me grin. “Same as usual?”

I push my cart to the glass counter, leaning onto the handle on one elbow. “You know me well, Tony.”

He laughs, his belly jiggling beneath the white smock smeared in blood. “You make it easy. You never change, Brielle. Same order every week. Nothing new, never exciting,” he wags a finger at me over the glass case, smiling broadly.

---