Page 86 of Pretty Monsters

His expression broadcasts his confusion. "Why would I leave?"

"I–I really don't understand what the difference is between this new arrangement between us, and what we were doing yesterday. When you say, you need control, I've been thinking, I'm okay with it, except–"

"Talk to me." His hand cradles the side of my face.

"What if I'm not good at it? I can handle handing over most of the decisions to you when it comes to safety, and even... My face burns with embarrassment. I'm sure my cheeks are bright red.

"Even?"

I look down at my shoes. Yep, my shoes are super interesting. "You know," I whisper.

He chuckles. "Fucking?"

"God. Yes, okay!"

With his index finger he tips my chin up until I'm staring into his night dark eyes. "Then what's the problem?"

"I still want to be me. I want to decide who I become. I still want to train. I'm not helpless, and I want to be useful."

"Is that all that's bothering you?"

I find I'm shaking my head before I even give much thought to the question. "I'm afraid you need this to keep me at arms length. That we'll do this and I'll continue to fall, and you'll feel nothing."

"I feel everything," he swears. His voice drops and it's like a rough whisper, scratching over my nerves making my soul sing. "I don't want to stop it. I need to know you'll be safe to give in to it."

Smiling wide, I whisper, "I'm yours."

Suddenly, he stands taller, more demanding. My body tingles in anticipation. "Prove it."

"Tell me how."

"Get on your knees."

My heart thumps hard in my chest. When I agreed to submit to him, I did it to keep him. What I didn't anticipate is how thrilling it would be to put myself in his hands.

Sinking to my knees, I wait for further direction.

The sound of his zipper slices through the silence. Reaching behind his head he pulls off his shirt. His shoes are already off, and he stands before me in soft, worn denim. The image strikes me as deeply erotic, and I'm vibrating with the urge to touch him.

"Take me out." His demand is rough, and I sense he's working hard to control himself. I wonder if my submission will unleash him.

Squeezing my thighs together to ease the building ache, I push his pants down. As they descend, my hands brush the firm globes of his ass before I free him. Taking his erection in my hands, I stroke him. I know where this is heading, but he still hasn't given the command.

The words never come. He fists his hands in my hair and pulls me forward. Pressing the head of his cock against my lips, I instinctively flick my tongue against it.

I've never experienced this before, and I'm worried I won't be good at it. Jutting his hips forward, he sinks into my mouth, and we both moan. Guiding my head, he sets a rhythm I begin to follow. It's slow at first, then harder and rougher. Soon, all thoughts of technique and performance vanish from my thoughts as my only desire is to watch him come undone.

There's no warning when he comes, other than a primal roar. His movements slow, and I work him through the last shudders of his release. Sin's still semi hard when his cock pops out of my mouth. I smirk and wipe off the corner of my lips.

"Proud of yourself, aren't you?" he teases.

I nod. "I've never done that before."

His expression darkens. In addition to being controlling, apparently he's possessive as well. "I'm going to find a lot of things you've never done before and fuck the memory of teacher boy out of you."

"Mmm," I hum. "I think I'm going to like that."

Sin kicks his jeans away completely and pulls me to my feet by my elbows. "Your turn. Strip, and do it slow."

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