Page 17 of Wear Me Out
“Cover me,” she whispered, squeezing her tits even tighter.
I hissed at the added pressure. “You want a pretty pearl necklace, little whore?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
I bucked as fast as I could go. “Tell me you’re mine.”
“I’m yours, boss. Only yours.” She squirmed underneath the weight of my body, pressing her thighs together.
She could only take so much more torture. Playing with her was fun, and I fucking enjoyed every second of it, but I needed to put my cock in her cunt soon, or I was going to lose it, too.
“I own you,” I roared out, losing my rhythm as I spurted my release onto her neck and chin. “You’re fucking mine,” I cried, continuing to pump myself between her tits until the sensitivity was too much to take.
Cum decorated her pretty tattooed skin. My cum.
Mine.
She wore it so well.
I hauled myself off her and collapsed on the bed. “The things you do to me.”
“The thingsIdo toyou? If I could write down all the things you’ve done to me since I was twenty-seven, the list would roll out that door, down the hallway, hop on the elevator, leave the building, and take a stroll down Main Street,” she quipped, pointing to the cum dripping down her chest.
“I relent,” I said, throwing up both of my hands in surrender. “Were you only twenty-seven when you demanded I get on my knees for you?”
She sat up. “Were you thirty-seven when you dropped to the floor in front of me? Why did I ever go for such an old man?” she countered, clicking her tongue.
Classic brat. I’d let the comment slide—this time. Instead of chastising her for the smartass remark, I rolled off the bed and fetched a warm, wet cloth from our attached bathroom. She appeared in the doorway, shoulder resting on the frame.
“I was coming to clean you off,” I said.
“More than a washcloth is required for this mess,” she said, gesturing to the remnants of dark cherry syrup all over her skin alongside the cum trickling down her neck.
I sauntered over to her anyway and wipedmy release from her chin with care, brushing the cloth down her delicate neck, collecting any rogue drips I found.
Leaning forward, I brushed my lips over her ear. In a low voice, I whispered, “Then I guess you better get the water running.”
She nodded, crossing the bathroom to our stone-tiled shower. “Yes, boss.”
Having an easy dynamic was something I adored about our relationship. Of course, it took work. Practice. We established and tested our boundaries early on in our relationship. After half a decade together, we could read each other effortlessly. We slipped in and out of our dom/sub relationship when it suited us, and fell back in when we were ready. The fact that we could break after an intense moment together and share a laugh or chat meant the world to me. I loved being in control, bending her to my will, bringing her pleasure when I saw fit, but I also fell in love with her indomitable spirit. The brat inside her. That was something I never wanted to snuff out.
She stood directly under the showerhead and turned it on. The cold spray hit her square in the chest, and she didn’t evenflinch. Instead, she doused her body and revelled in the flood of water as it warmed. Steam began to fill the room, and I slipped in behind her, shutting the glass door.
“Can I wash you, pet?” I asked, ducking under the warm water, letting it rinse me.
“Of course you can.”
I lathered my hands with the signature AfterGlow soap provided for all private elite rooms—lemon, mint, and sweet orange—and ran my hands across her shoulders and over her collarbones, careful to get every bit of sticky sweet syrup off her skin.
“That feels amazing,” she cooed, allowing her eyes to close while I worked my way down her body.
“Let daddy take care of you,” I said, unable to wipe the smug smile off my face.
Her eyes flew open and narrowed before landing square on mine. “Does that mean I’ve earned the right to call you that?”
“It means I enjoy teasing the fuck out of you, Lilah. Nothing more.” My hands drifted down to her breasts, rubbing them in slow circles with the soap, spending more time on them than necessary.
She whined and her bottom lip stuck outevery-so-slightly in a pout before she closed her eyes again. “I’ve never had such a terrible case of blue walls.”
