Page 39 of Mine

I couldn’t think, couldn’t move. I melted into the bed, my eyes closing slowly as he settled down next to me. His arm slid around my waist and he turned me on my side, pulling me against him.

“Did I do well?” I whispered.

“Yes.” His answer came without hesitation. “Did I?”

I was taken aback by the vulnerability. Maybe I wasn’t the only one experiencing new things tonight. “Yes,” I said. “Thank you.”

He hummed. “Sleep.”

I didn’t want to.

“When you wake up, I’ll be gone,” he said softly.

And that was the problem.

I didn’t want him to go.

NINE

SALT

I leftbefore the sun rose, just like we agreed.

My entire body resisted each step I took away from Pepper, but I needed to leave before we did anything else stupid. I managed to make it to the nearest bus stop, guitar in hand, and begin the long ride home. It’d take about thirty minutes, which was plenty of time to think about what the fuck had happened last night.

I’d left her a note, at least, with my phone number and a few words.

I want more. If you want more, text me.

Her choice.

Last night was something I’d never forget. The scent of her still clung to me, and my eyes shuttered closed as I leaned back in the seat, the bus jostling over the narrow downtown streets.

I’d been with countless people over the years. Men, women, nonbinary people. I’d been in group scenes, in one-on-one scenes, and participated in orgies that lasted for days. I loved sex. I loved fucking. I loved kink and BDSM, the give and take of being a Dom. I knew how to do it all, too. I knew how to spank, flog, whip, use sensations like heat or cold, do wax play, and more.

I loved dominating others in the bedroom, turning them on, and making them beg for more.

But last night with Pepper?

Something about her had altered everything I knew about BDSM.

Iwantedher. Justher. Her submission and exploration were stray sparks that kindled the dry waste of my soul into a roaring flame.

It turned me on knowing that she was older. She had a career she built from the ground up. She was a powerful woman who was always in control, always making decisions. I’d seen snippets of that part of her in how she spoke to me at the club when other people were around. It was evident in the way she spoke and carried herself.

But she’d knelt for me. She’d obeyed me. She’d opened up a door to submission, and seeing the way she melted right into it made me want to do other things with her.

She’s been so adamant that I was too young. That what we’d done was crazy. But she’d also opened up about her desires, finally giving into them. Giving them a chance.

How many more kinks were there under that tough exterior? Just waiting for someone to come along and coax them out?

The thing about me was that I didn’t care what other people would think of us together. Then again, I didn’t have a reputation to protect the way she did.

Any music career I might have had was probably fucked now, though. One, I doubted she’d text me. Two, I also doubted I’d ever hear from Rosethorn again.

I sighed. I thought that being with her would satiate the craving, but I’d been wrong. Selfishly, I just wanted more, more, more. More of her riding my cock, more leaving marks on her, more claiming her as mine.

The sadistic part of me screamed for her submission.

---