Page 93 of The Stars in the Sky
Chuckling, he said, "A butt plug?"
"Have you ever used one?"
"Sure." Interesting.
"On you?"
He looked taken aback. "Uh, no."
"This one is for you."
He looked at me incredulously. Then he burst out laughing, the big, full-on male laugh that I’d only heard a few times.
I pushed him in the chest. Hmm. Yum. His chest. "Try it. You're sexually adventuresome. You’re open in bed. Try it. No one has to know. This one is supposed to be for guys."
He shoved his hands in his pockets, scuffed his boots on the floor, and looked up at the ceiling.
I kept going. "I'd never been tied up before like that. No one had ever tried tonotgive me an orgasm before. This isn't going to suddenly make you not you, it's just an experi—"
"Shit. Okay," he interrupted.
"Okay?"
"Yeah. Just don't fuckin' emasculate me."
I looked him straight in the eye. "That will never happen. This is the type of feminism where you get a blow job, which I'll admit is kind of strange, but it's because I want to do it, not because you're telling me to do it."
"Darlin'?"
"Yes?"
"Sign me up."
But I was serious about this issue. Will had said that he wasn't a feminist, but he never did anything to make me feel lesser than him. He was just all dude, all man, all guy, and he liked to drive. I think he just had a problem with the label, but not the concept. I felt like I had plenty of say around him. Sex and politics could get messy, and Will and I lived in that messy world, and I didn't know if we would ever leave it, or indeed, agree on everything. But I didn't care anymore. He was a loving, caring soul, and generous and gentle. The label that he liked didn't matter, just as the labels I liked didn't matter.
Well, they mattered less to me than they did before.
What this meant was simple: I wanted the chance to be in charge. I knew what I liked, sexually, and I let him push me on all fronts and I liked it when he took control. It was fucking hot. But now I wanted the chance to push him, to see how he would take it.
"Strip, cowboy," I ordered.
"Shit, is it gonna be like that?" he muttered. But he said it with a smile and started taking off his boots.
"Yep. Now, gorgeous."
His shoes shucked off, his shirt, gone, his pants a distant memory, he stood before me, all brawny guy, and my own personal sexual playground.
God, this was fun.
"I want to tie you up."
He snorted. "Seriously?"
"Yep," I said, and I pulled out a cotton, woven belt of mine, with rings for a closure, from the chest of drawers.
"Now how ya gonna do that, darlin'?" he asked, teasing me.
"Hands together." And he put his wrists together in front of him. I wrapped the belt around his wrists, and then fastened it to the top bunk behind his head. "You okay?" I asked.
