Page 56 of Laila Manning
“Okay.” I panted, fully puddled in his hands.
“Read me another line from that test.” He said as he dropped his lips to my neck and teased the sensitive flesh there.
“Now?” I gasped, shivering as he ran the tip of his tongue from my collarbone to my ear.
“Now.” He picked the paper up and pushed it into my hand. “Be a good girl, Dove, and do what I said.”
“Jesus.” I moaned, hating and loving how his words sent jolts of electricity through my body. “Okay.” I held the paper off to the side and tried to focus on the words as he slid his rough hands up the back of my shirt, teasing the skin right above the waistband of my shorts. “Desire to restrain your partner during intimacy.” I licked my lips as my head lolled to the side, “Interested.”
He growled and bit the lobe of my ear, “You want to tie me down, Dove?”
“God.” I moaned again and nodded my head. “Yes.”
“You like the idea of being in control of me?”
“Yes.” I rocked my hips and rubbed myself against him again.
“Read me another.”
“Desire to be blindfolded by your partner during intimacy? Interested.”
“You’re a switch.” He smiled against my neck and leaned back. “You want to be in control and give over some control, too.”
“I don’t want to be dominated.” I shook my head.
“I didn’t say dominated.” He clarified. “I said control. There’s a difference. Read me another one.”
“Desire to be intimate with your partner in a public place or with someone else watching.” I snorted. “Not interested.”
“Good.” He growled, “No one gets to see what’s mine. Another.” He moved to the other side of my neck and nibbled on it.
“Desire to call your partner degrading terms such as whore, pet, and sissy.” I shuddered, “Not interested.”
Zeke smiled against my neck and nodded, “Another.”
I groaned and skimmed the page, looking for one that might be useful for the conversation. “Last one,” I said, and he rolled his eyes but smirked at me, leaning his head back against the cushion. “Desire to call your partner terms associated with authority, like daddy, or master.” I swallowed and licked my lips, unable to say my answer out loud.
“What is your answer, Laila?” he prodded.
“What would your answer to that question be?” I countered, pulling at a piece of fuzz on his shirt.
“Do I want to callyouMaster?” He raised a brow at me jokingly. “No, can’t say as I do.”
“Do you want me to call you—” I swallowed again, my throat suddenly drier than the Sahara, “Master.” I shrugged. “Or—Daddy?”
His eyes darkened dramatically, and his jaw clenched tightly as he stared at me. “This is about you, Dove, and what you want.”
“I need to know,” I whispered.
“Then you need to be brave and tell me about your feelings about it first.” He stared directly at me, as if he could grasp how fucked up I felt in the head over this. “I can tell this one bothers you, and I want to know why.”
“My father tried to kill me,” I whispered. “And then he killed my mom and tried killing Jed.” I shivered at the memories. “That man was the catalyst that derailed my entire life.”
“What does that have to do with me?” Zeke asked calmly.
“I think—” I licked my dry lips and forced myself to take a deep breath and look at him directly, “Something inside of me gets excited by the idea of callingyou—daddy.” I groaned as soon as the words were out of my mouth as a blush heated up my entire face. “And that’s fucked up, considering who my real fucking father was.”
Zeke stood up with me in his arms, and I shrieked, clinging to his neck in surprise as he walked us across my apartment to my bed. He didn’t say anything as he kneeled on the bed and lowered me into the center of it, following me down until he lay on top of me.
