I want more.
I need more.
All my insecurities bubble up, mingling with selfishness now.
“Kiss me,” I whisper.
He tenses, it’s only for a beat of a moment, and I almost think I imagined it before he resumes brushing his lips down my skin.
“Iamkissing you.” He takes my nipple into his mouth.
“On my lips.”
Why am I so needy? The man already gave me so much tonight, and here I am, mourning that he doesn’t offer more and demanding it.
He looks up, his eyes heated. “I thought I made it clear that I’m in charge. You can beg me to make you come, but the only demands here come from me.”
He returns to my nipple, biting it hard through the silky fabric. My back arches at the sensation, taking all the fight away from me.
Clearly, one of us is sane enough to set strict boundaries.
It’s a smart thing.
It’s the safest thing.
It’s the right thing to do.
So why does it hurt?
* * *
Somehow I can’t sleep, my mind firing in a thousand different directions.
The chase and sex we had after my confession seem to have unlocked something. It’s like the years of therapy helped me to get so far, but there was a part of me that needed this to complete the healing.
I don’t even understand where my need to be chased and fucked like that came from. I’m sure my therapist would have an opinion or two about that.
I let—forced—Baldo to take advantage of me, and it’s like I reclaimed something I thought had been taken away from me a long time ago.
We can’t get back what we lost that night, but we were able to mend some of it tonight.
I think.
I hope.
I worry.
But as I watch the darkness slowly giving way to a new day, I’m sure I’m the only one who offered intimacy tonight.
Baldo delivered what I needed, but he stayed in his shell, behind a tall, impenetrable wall.
And while he was ravishing my body all night, I didn’t get a chance to consider what my confession meant for him.
One thing is what happened that night to my body, but that man didn’t just violate me. He took something from Baldo.
A chance with me.
A chance for us.