Page 36 of Bound and Branded

He’s a man who has total control all the time.

The way he does everything is slow, methodical. I would’ve said that I’d hate that. But it turns out I love it. When it’s him. Because he knows how to get me out of my own head. He knows how to make me feel things that I never have otherwise.

Knows how to make me feel beautiful. Special. Right just the way that I am.

I miss him. Three days without touching him and I’m going crazy.

And just a week ago I hated him. Yeah. Those were the days. I didn’t know him then. I take a deep breath and pull his laundry out of the dryer, remembering folding it naked the other day.

We’ve still never kissed.

Everything feels inside out and backward and more intense for it.

I don’t think I’ve ever spent this much time thinking about a man. The truth is, I don’t think I’ve ever thought as much about a man as I have him even before we had sex.

Sobering indeed.

I start walking up the stairs, and I hear water running.

I wonder if he came home while I was doing laundry.

My throat goes dry, and I walk past his bedroom. I haven’t ever done much in his bedroom beyond folding clothes and putting them away. The bedroom where he has scenes is a totally separate space. And it feels like a degree removed from intimacy. Deliberately.

It also feels like a breach of that intimacy to go in there when I think he might be showering.

Basket of clothes clutched my chest, I push open the door, and my heart is beating fast. He’s definitely in there. In the shower.

He was angry at me for pushing the other day. But it was a good kind of anger. The kind that led to sex. The kind that led to a punishment that I enjoyed.

I stand there, holding the basket, unsure of what to do. I probably should turn around, go back, act like nothing happened.

I should go back downstairs and see to my chores.

But I feel like I’m being led to him. My alpha wolf, knowing exactly how to get my attention.

Maybe that’s delusional. But then, I’m probably entirely delusional, given that I am in a fucking-only relationship with my formerly hated neighbor who I let tie me up and turn me into his sex toy.

Yeah. So there’s that.

I drop the basket and move toward the bathroom. He could lock the door if he doesn’t want anyone coming in.

I touch the handle, turn it, and find that it gives. Then I push the door open before I can think better of it.

I’m dizzy with anticipation. This could end badly, in multiple ways. It could end badly in a way that’s sexy and satisfying for us both. Or it could end in him dropping the axe on our relationship because I’ve stepped outside the boundaries of what’s expected of me.

I don’t know if I’m allowed to initiate with him.

I take my clothes off, standing there outside the glass door of the shower. He probably already knows I’m in here. But he hasn’t said anything.

Then before I can change my mind, I open up the glass door and step inside the shower. It’s filled with steam and I can only just barely make out the shape of his body through the fog. Idon’t go to him. I don’t touch him. I’m simply there for his use. There for him to decide what happens next.

I’m ready to come, just from the anticipation of him touching me. Just with the pent-up need that’s been building up inside of me for days.

Then he reaches out from the shadow of the steam, grabs me and pulls me toward him, reversing our positions and putting me up against the wall as he cups the back of my head, his mouth crashing down on mine.

I’m stunned by the kiss. It’s hot, hard and deep. There’s nothing new or testing about it. He’s claiming me, his tongue sliding against mine as he moves his hands to cup my face, kissing deeper and deeper as he presses his body against mine, against the shower wall.

My legs give out, my whole body practically melting against him as he claims me like that. I can feel his huge, heavy cock against my stomach and I roll my hips against him. He reaches around behind me, grabbing my ass and digging his blunt fingertips into my soft flesh. I whimper, arching my back, my nipples begging for his attention.

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