Page 80 of Ride With Me

“Let me guess,” he started, tapping his index finger on his chin. He cocked his head in thought as he studied me a bit further. “Exhibitionism? Maybe some light bondage? I’m thinking, if it’s going off things I know about you, a bit of a praise kink?”

You could light a cigarette from my face with how hot it was. “Bondage, a bit of a praise kink,” I told him. I was talking about the book. It wasn’t my fault that it happened to mirror a few of the things I also enjoyed. “There’s also some degradation in it.”

“Is that the stuff you like?”

If my dick hadn’t been in his mouth earlier, I might have been a bit concerned about the change in conversation. Instead, it just gave me dirtier and dirtier thoughts. “Some of it. What about you?”

“You first. Tell me what else you like.” There was that commanding tone again. I felt chills run down my spine. I didn’t answer immediately, because I was too busy trying to think of how to answer that. Some of the things I was into might scare him and make him question being anywhere near me. I’dmade the mistake of telling an ex-boyfriend one of my fantasies, and he’d suggested therapy. “Or I can go first. Voyeurism and exhibitionism, obviously. Knowing people could see us while I sucked you off earlier?” He hummed. “I like to be in control of my partner’s pleasure. Edging my partner can be fun.”

“Being edged is torture,” I groaned.

“And torture can be fun.”

“So you have a sadistic side?”

“Not in the traditional sense.” There was a thoughtful look on his face. “I don’t get off on inflicting extreme pain. I don’t mind a little, but when I say torture can be fun… I mean turning my partner into a writhing, begging mess. And then, when they’re begging and desperate for more, I like to take it further.” I exhaled. I was determined not to have a reaction to him, but damn, it sounded hot. “Your turn. You find edging to be torture, but you seemed really into being told what to do earlier.”

I nodded. “I was. A lot more than I thought I’d be. Most of my partners have been pretty vanilla. Some light bondage, things like that, but they weren’t all that bossy.”

“And did it make you want more?”

I swallowed before nodding. “I’ve wanted more for a long time.”

“What kind of more did you want?”

“I’ve always been curious about sensory deprivation. Being restrained and blindfolded, not being able to tell what my partner’s going to do to me next.” That was one of the tamer fantasies. For a moment, I wondered if he’d be scared off by the darker ones, by the secret ones I kept close to my chest after my ex told me that I needed some serious therapy about it.

“What about fantasies?”

“You tell me yours first.”

“Not this time,” he countered. “You still haven’t given me much.” He laid back on his back. “Tell me your hottest fantasy.”

“You might judge me.” My voice was small as it traveled the space between our beds. “One of my exes told me that I needed therapy when I told him.”

“First, kink shaming is never okay. Second, this is a judgment free zone,” he assured me. “Finally, I will tell you mineifyou tell me yours first.”

“Why can’t you tell me yours first?”

He didn’t answer immediately. The silence didn’t feel as comfortable as some of the quieter moments in the car. The sexual tension was there, ramped up to thirty, but it had an awkward twinge. The awkwardness faded away when he spoke, slowly and thoughtfully. “I want to hear your actual fantasy. I don’t want you to edit it to match what I say. I don’t want you to match my energy and something tells me that you’d try.”

I felt called out, but I also felt seen in a way I’d never been before. I laid back on my bed, looking at the closed window instead of him. “I’m asleep. Deep enough that I don’t hear the door. I don’t feel the man get into my bed. I stir a little when he touches me for the first time, but I don’t start to wake up until he slams into me with no prep. At first, I think it’s some kind of dream, but eventually, I realize what it is. A stranger in my room, fucking me senseless, holding me down. No matter how much I struggle, he won’t stop…” I close my eyes as the mental images flood my brain. I’d jacked off to this fantasy more times than I could count, but I’d put it firmly in the fantasies I’d never live out. “He finishes inside of me, and then he pulls out. I try to see him, but the room’s too dark to make out his features before he turns away. I never find out who he is, just someone that uses me and leaves.”

I couldn’t look at him after I finished. I didn’t want to see the judgment on his handsome face at my fantasy. I wished I’d told him one of the tamer ones, one that was just bondage and sensory deprivation or something else that didn’t make peoplelook at me like I was fucked in the head. I was having flashbacks of my ex-boyfriend and the look in his eyes. We’d been together for months before I told him, and we’d broken up shortly after. Now I’d told it to someone that was basically a stranger.

Damn him for being so easy to talk to.

“So somnophilia and a little bit of CNC,” he finally said. “Did you ever try that with anyone?”

“No. Like I said, most of the guys I’ve dated have been pretty vanilla.”

“But the stuff you have done, did you have a safe word?” The question caught me off guard. “I know you said it was only light stuff, but did use one?”

I could feel his eyes on me, and I braved a glance at him. I let out a sigh of relief when I saw no judgment on his face. Just interest and curiosity. “Pineapple.”

“Pineapple?” he asked with a laugh. “Your safe word with your past partners was pineapple?”

The way he said it sounded so ridiculous that I couldn’t help myself from laughing. “What kind of safe words have you used?”

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