Page 92 of Dust Storm

We lay there, chest to chest, catching our breath as sweat-slicked skin stuck to each other. I flopped my head to the sideand peered at the clock on the nightstand. “You probably need to get back to work.”

Christian chuckled as he pecked my lips, then eased out of me. “Are you kicking me out of my own house?”

I trailed my fingertips down his chest. “I’m giving you an easy out.”

“I don’t need an out, Cass. Hang tight.”

I laid there as he slipped out to the bathroom to deal with the condom. He came back a minute later with two washcloths—one warm and damp, and the other dry.

His posture was humble as he knelt between my thighs and gently wiped them clean, then dry.

“Admirable, but unnecessary,” I said as I rolled over to my side. “You have a weirdly ‘nice’ style of domination.”

Christian shook with laughter as he pulled on his boxers, then slid into bed behind me. “You think it’s just being tied up and spanked?”

“Something like that. I don’t mind a little spanky panky.”

He brushed my hair aside and kissed up the back of my neck. “Well, to me it means that a partner is trusting me to be in control of their pleasure.”

I shivered as he ghosted his fingers up and down my waist.

“There’s a lot of gray area in that. You wanna be tied up and teased? I’ve got rope. You want me to pull your hair and turn your ass red? It would be my pleasure, Princess.” He wrapped his arms around me and pulled my body against his chest. “But if you just want me to put you first and make you feel good, you can trust me to do that because making you feel good turns me on.”

“I’m not a cuddler,” I huffed as I turned in his arms and rested my temple against his soft chest.

Christian was ridiculously sexy. His body was comforting. It was a safe place I could get lost in.

He buried his nose in my hair and inhaled deeply. “You have a funny way of showing it.”

“I don’t hate it quite as much as I usually do,” I hedged. “This is like snuggling with a teddy bear.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and tugged his hair out of the mussed bun. “I like it.”

He groaned as I scratched his scalp, easing the tension from having his hair up all the time.

“Do you get those sore spots on your head when you make your bun too tight?” I asked.

Christian closed his eyes as he soaked it in. “Yeah. That feels good.”

“Why do you have long hair? It seems like it gets in the way.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Do you not like it?”

“I didn’t say that. I was asking why you have it. In all the photos on your mantle, your hair is short.”

“It wasn’t practical to keep asking my mom to help me with the girls’ hair. I grew mine out so I could practice on myself and learn how to take care of it so I could teach them. I’ve gone to work with braids, curls, rollers—you name it.”

My heart seized.

Christian looked at the clock and sighed. “I have to get back to work.” He tipped my chin up and pressed a kiss to my lips. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Wanna come out with me? Ride out to where the boys are?”

I laughed. “If you plan on fucking me again, I highly recommend that you don’t make me sore from riding a horse.”

He laughed. “That’s fair.”

“Go to work,” I said, playfully shoving him off of me. I shimmied up the bed and sat against the pillows as he tugged his jeans back on.

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