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A shiver rolls down my spine at the idea of using him for my pleasure. Having him underneath me while I ride his face, his cock.

“Off,” I say through panting breaths.

“As you command.” He teases back.

Hooking his thumbs under the waistband of his briefs, he draws the remainder of his clothing down and off his legs and tosses them to the side.

“Much better,” I say coolly.

“You like what you see?” He asks, less teasing and more like he’s looking for validation.

I look up into his face, and even in the dim lighting of the bedroom, I can see the earnestness in his expression.

This man cares what I think of him, which is a terrifying thought to have. And a terrible power to hold.

There’s an ongoing internal battle between my two conflicting needs: my need for independence and my need for him.

My body craves him, but the tiny voice inside of me says that my soul does as well.

But right now isn’t the time to think about how souls intertwine. It’s time to focus on the physical instead.

The man before me is a sight to take in, his muscular thighs toned and tanned just like the rest of his body. The small trail of dark hair which leads down to the part of him I desire most right now, his cock.

Memories of how well he fills me spring to mind, and my pussy clenches at the promise of pleasure to come, and come and come, and come.

“My queen?” He asks, a little more tenderness in his voice than before like he’s waiting for a biting remark to come and hurt him.

But I could never do that to him.

Not this man.

“Yes.” I breathe out, letting my hands move forward to rest on his abs and trace the curves of each one. “I like it very much.”

One of Marshall’s hands comes to wrap around my own, and he looks down at me with such sincerity when he speaks. “What do you want, my queen?”

I hesitate for a moment, knowing nothing will happen tonight or ever if I don’t explicitly ask for it from him. But there’s a mental barrier to asking for what I need, one that I’m not fully prepared to face.

So, instead of asking for the intimacy I crave, I settle for the physical that I need.

“Get on the bed and lie down on your back.” He raises a dark eyebrow at me. “I’m going to ride your face until I come, then ride your cock until you do.”

“Fuck.” He moans, his head dropping back. “You’re wicked with your words, woman.”

When he doesn’t move quickly enough, I grab him by his dick and stroke him up and down his length. At my touch, his pupils blow wide, and I can see fireworks in his eyes.

“And your touch.” He groans out.

I love that I know what he likes and how to coax him to his edge.

One time together, or many depending on how you tally our night at Selene’s engagement party, taught me enough to know when he’s nearing his finish. And I memorized it well enough to know when to stop.

My gaze flicks between his cock and his face as I stroke him, loving the sight of both while I do. His face is open, lost in the pleasure of my touch, while his cock twitches in my hand as I stroke him.

“On the bed,” I whisper as I release his cock and push him away from me by the hip.

“Yes, my queen.” He murmurs.

Quickly, he climbs on the bed but looks back at me for further instructions.

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