Page 55 of Inevitably Yours

0000:00.00…it’s on.

Gus heardJohn at the door but kept her focus on the red zeros. When he entered the room, his scent found her first, but still, she stared. When he stood just off in her periphery, Gus almost faltered. As much as she wanted to drink in the sight of him with her thirsty eyes, she wanted to show him she could be enough to make him happy more. Enough to love.

When they had opened up about what they wanted, John was genuinely concerned with Augusta trying to be something for him at the expense of herself. She finally admitted, she had wanted to explore for a long time but never felt enough trust with anyone else to do so.

After their one night together, Gus felt she had found what she’d been searching for. It was that confession, above all others, which convinced John to let her try this tonight.

“God, you’re beautiful,” John breathed. “Look at me.”

It wasn’t his words but the way he said them that had her clenching with need. With one finger and a barely there touch, John lined her cheekbone. “Not that I am complaining, but I’ve told you I am dominant, not A Dominant. Same word,” now the back of that same finger explored the other cheek with a feather-light touch, “but not the same thing at all.”

John backed into the dressing chair and sat. Never breaking eye contact, he removed his shoes. He leaned back and untucked his shirt, still staring.

Gus’ eyes shifted to the table beside him, and his followed. When it registered what she was offering, she didn’t have to wait for an answer. John’s steps ate up the space between them, and his lips were devouring her, claiming her.

Owning her.

Gus wasn’t controlling any part of the kiss, not even her own tongue. John held her head where he wanted it, directed her mouth in its movements. Hell, he controlled her very breath by the position of his face. It was just a kiss, but he was in charge of her very soul.

This was the moment she understood and really comprehended all his earlier confessions and explanations. Gus thought in order to please a man like John, you had to be tied up and weak and at the mercy of someone who was addressed as “sir,” but that wasn’t it at all. She had read too many, apparently inaccurate, edgy BDSM books.

Her understanding was flawed and narrow. Gus feared she would have to do certain things she wasn’t sure she could be comfortable with, but that was the furthest thing from the truth. John had tried to express that to her, but she had tunnel vision.

“I understand,” she managed when he backed out of the kiss lightly. “I finally get it.” He didn’t want her to be anything but herself. Letting him take the lead in the bedroom and exploring my boundaries doesn’t mean I’m in a Dom/sub relationship.

“I’m relieved.” Forehead to forehead, she felt a connection flow through them. His relief was palpable. The hand at her neck escaped her notice until it became forceful. “However, just because I don’t demand you call me sir and be kneeling when I get home, I can’t say I would be devastated if you occasionally did it again.”

All contact was broken as he stepped back, all contact, that is, except the hand at her throat. “Can you blame me? Look at you, I think the Rolling Stones sang a song about you.” A whimper escaped her throat when his gaze caressed her body with an appetite only she could sate.

“Ummm, what a sweet sound.” John’s eyes drifted closed, and Gus’ followed as if tethered to his. She startled at the feel of his calloused finger at her clit. It felt amazing, but it didn’t linger. Instead, John pushed it forward…slowly, agonizingly slow…and once it was all the way in her hungry body, it just as slowly retreated. This time, they both whimpered. The hand at her throat tightened.

The speed of his finger didn’t change. Once it exited her body, it continued backwards, slowly, as if he were mapping her by touch. It teased her when it reached her other hole. Circle, pressure, caress. Then just the barest tip entered her on the next pressure. Before she had time to react, it was back to caress.

A ragged breath skittered across her face. When had he leaned forward? “I love that you are willing to explore and play, but I won’t be using any of the toys you so generously laid out in offering.” Her eyes skittered to the toys and lube on the table but returned to John. Always returning to John.

“Tonight, I want to take you with my senses, and only my senses. I want nothing between our bodies except a condom. When you come, I want to smell it, touch it, taste it, feel it, hear it. I want to know that my body made it happen. There will be plenty of time to test both our boundaries, but tonight, it’s about expression not exploration.”

When John finally released her neck, she swallowed a gulp of air. He hadn’t choked her, and it wasn’t anything painful, but her air flow had been restricted.

If that’s what he meant by breath play, yes please. When John had mentioned it, her mind conjured up pictures of rock stars hanging themselves on accident and people she thought who needed help. But that wasn’t it at all. It was invigorating and intensifying. It sounded insane, but she was more in tune with her body with his hand applying gentle pressure.

His touch on her skin was more electric; his kiss was more decadent. It was just more, she had no other way to describe it. It simply made everything more. John started to undress. Gus pulled her knees out from under her and stretched. Once circulation returned to her lower legs, she propped her feet on the foot board and leaned back, catching her weight on her hands to watch the show.

Purposefully letting her knees fall slightly to the side, she gave him a view of just where she needed him most. She watched with laser focus as he slowly uncovered his salt and pepper furred chest; her eyes tracked the thickening and narrowing of it as it arrowed into his now open pants.

Pushing them past his hips, he finally looked up…and stilled. The groan was music to her ears. As much as she enjoyed the sound he made when he looked at her, open for his viewing, she was not enjoying his impression of a statue. She wanted to see him.

She wanted to do him, and that wouldn’t be happening if he didn’t get those pants off. “Earth to John.”

“What,” he said, sounding dumbfounded. Okay, it was a little enjoyable, just not as enjoyable as getting to the main event. It had been too long; and she was tired of waiting.

“Chop, chop.” Then she said something that not only shocked him, but stunned the heck out of her too, “It ain’t going to lick itself.” John finished undressing in a flash.

He caught a condom off the table on his way toward her. His movements were fluid and predatory. He tossed the condom on the bed and shoved her knees further apart before dropping his head between. His inhale was appreciative and exaggerated.

Only his breath touched her there when he exhaled. The sounds he made were that of a man savoring something delicious. Gus squirmed in an attempt to get his mouth on her, but he hovered just out of reach of her questing body.

She couldn’t take anymore. After dropping her back to the bed to free her hands, she grabbed him by the silver hair she loved so much. But he was not to be directed. “What is your neck made of, steel? Please, if you don’t touch me now, I might die.”

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