Page 42 of Sideline Play

“Uh-huh,” I nod, slowly tearing my gaze away from his lap. Meeting his dilated, hazel eyes, I force a swallow down my throat and re-engage my hands, closing his leg and motioning for him to roll over.

He gives me a pointed look and I quickly dart my eyes up to the ceiling knowing he needs to adjust himself, chewing on my lip as I fish around for something to talk about.

“All good,” he murmurs at the same time I say, “So I’ve been thinking.”

While I take a couple pumps of oil and warm it in my hands, he prods, “Go on.”

“You know how I read a lot of romance books?” I ask, starting at his shoulders.

“Yeah, you and your thing for catchers,” he attempts to laugh.

Applying a little extra pressure until he apologizes for teasing me, I say, “Well, they have what we call spice.”

“Spice?”

“Smut.”

“Still not following.”

“Sex,” I nearly shout, suddenly embarrassed. “They have sex scenes, spicy, hot, panty melting, sex scenes.”

Stretching his arms over the table as I stand in front of him and start on his shoulders, Remington drags his calloused palmsup and down the back of my thighs, sending a hot quiver through my pussy.

“Okay, so you read spicy books. What about it?”

I stutter as his fingers caress the line right under my butt, my thighs caught between opening for him and clenching against the rush of arousal threatening to leak out of me.

“Well, I sometimes get really,reallyturned on while reading and masturbate to the scenes. Which got me thinking… Oh fuck,” I moan as his hands reach for my inner thighs, his thumbs massaging me, my back curling and fingers digging into him.

“That’s it, baby girl. Mark my back,” he drawls, praising, “Good girl,” as I rake my nails along his muscles, drawing red lines.

Extracting my nails from him, I hastily step back, his lust suddenly dampening as he sits up.

“Scarlet, did I?—”

“Nope!” I cry. “Nope, you didn’t do anything. I just…” shifting my weight, I swear under my breath and throw out, “Fuck Remi, I’m really horny. Likeallthe time. I’m constantly having to get my toys out and get myself off and I would really,reallylike to start doing that with you instead of alone.”

“Okay baby, all you have to do is tell me.”

“That’s just it,” I say, taking another step back as he gets off the table and retrieves the sheet, tying it around his waist as if that’s going to get my mind off wanting his dick. “I want to try letting you have full control.” Pointing to my Kindle, I explain, “I downloaded a number of books with my favorite scenes and highlighted the things I find particularly arousing. Things I want to try, kinks I want to discuss and experiment with, and stuff I think I would be comfortable with you doing without us having to talk about it or you announcing each move before it happens. I’m not made of glass, and while I don’t know what will spookme, I want you to give me more of that,” I say, swirling my finger in the air in his direction.

“More of what?” he asks. “I just want to be sure we’re on the same page and then yes, I’ll read whatever you want me to.”

Glancing at the floor, I whisper, “More of how you told me what to do and guided me, praised me, said, ‘good girl’ when I pleased you…”

“I can do that,” he nods, his earlier concern melting away and an almost wolfish glint coming to his eyes.

Smiling, I murmur, “Okay. My Kindle is um, on the table over there,” I point. “I’m going to go upstairs to our shower and uh, yeah…”

Turning on my heel so quickly my sneaker squeaks, I run. I run up the stairs to the main floor and up still to the master suite. I don’t stop until I’m wrenching open my night stand and digging through the satin pouches that house the individual toys I brought with me.

FollowingThe Incident,my therapy had been two fold. First the coping, processing, and healing part. Then the sexual part. Because of what happened, Christy was very adamant that to fully move on and not be held back, I had to learn to reprogram my brain and body to enjoy sexual pleasure under the right circumstances. It had been infinitely more difficult than the other exercises we went through, and more than once I had been ready to quit.

However, eventually it started to work. I found a safe space in graduating from young adult romance novels tobig girlbooks, the Woman in Peril trope being a personal favorite at the start for obvious reasons. Reading the stories of women, even if fictional, overcoming the trauma inflicted upon them by their abusers and not just living, but prospering and finding new and healthy love, was empowering and gave me the hopeand confidence I needed to further dive into Christy’s homework assignments for me.

Thus began my very spicy books and rather large toy collection. Clit suckers, bullet vibrators, Rabbits, traditional dildos, knotting dildos, anal plugs, I have it all. Including my second favorite toy that I purchased in order to live out my favorite kink—one I hope doesn’t send Remi for the hills when he reads about it—my ejaculating dildo.

I can’t really explain it. But when I read my first breeding scene, it made me so aroused I was slipping my fingers under my dress and pushing my panties aside while turning the pages back to read the scene again without any conscious thought. Now, imagining the feeling of someone's cum, Remington’s cum, inside me is that thing that gets me over the cliff every single time. And thinking of the risks associated with it when everything else in my life is orderly and free of risk, the image of me pregnant and him unable to keep his hands off of me, hearing him tell me he’s going to fuck me until I’m round with his child so every one knows who I belong to, it makes me wet and desperate every time.

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