Page 92 of Laurels and Liquor

Lydia is curled into my side, slipping in and out of a food coma as I play with her caramel-colored hair. Her scent is everywhere, the florals drifting throughout the room with her contentment. The sun set a while ago, and the lights of the city shine through the glass sliding doors, the only light in the living room of the Wickland House suite. We’d watched the sun set together, and have settled into a blissful silence.

“Happy anniversary, my love,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to her hair as I gather her a little tighter in my arms.

Lydia hums happily, returning the sentiment before turning her face up to meet me in a brief but sweet kiss. One of her hands comes up to cup my jaw, nails scraping pleasantly in my beard. She shifts to face me more fully, kissing me again, deeper this time. There’s a spark of heat and desire between us, bouncing back and forth along our bond, growing hotter with each round. I moan at the first taste of her, my hands moving to her hips to help her straddle me. I could lose myself in her kiss, the sensation of her lips on mine, the way she rolls her hips to grind her core against my rapidly hardening cock.

“Do you… can we play a game, sir?” Lydia asks, pulling away enough to pant out the question.

I hum an amused chuckle, nuzzling the tip of my nose against hers. “What did you have in mind, little one?”

She hesitates, but I wait, giving her space without judgment to ask for what she wants. She’s been getting better, bolder with her requests, and it’s been a joy to see her grow into the confident, sexy omega I knew she could be. When she pulls away slightly to look into my eyes, the flash of mischief in her emerald gaze intrigues me.

“I want… can I be in charge? For a little while?” she says, framing the request like a question.

I hum like I’m considering it, but quite frankly, I don’t know if there’s anything I wouldn’t do for this woman. I’ve given up control a few times, mostly to Lex when we play with Lucas, letting her use me as her living fuck doll to torture our poor beta, but it’s been a long time since I’ve gone full submissive. And the few times I have taken on that role have just reinforced my desire to be the dominant partner. For Lydia, though, I’m at least willing to try.

“How long is a little while, sweet girl?” I ask, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

She bites her lower lip and gives me the most adorably devious smile, making my cock twitch.

“Until you can’t stand it anymore. Then I can be the submissive again, if you’re able to take control back, that is,” she replies, all innocence.

I chuckle under my breath, smiling even as I shake my head. I have a feeling I know who might have suggested this particular scene to her, but damn it if it doesn’t sound like fun. So I look back up into her eyes and kiss her, one of my hands wrapped around the back of her neck. When I pull away, I’m still smiling, excitement bubbling inside me.

“Shall I call you Mistress, then? Or goddess? Or my queen?” I ask huskily, my lips brushing hers as I speak.

She giggles and bats at my shoulder. “Don’t make fun of me, Rhett,” she says with a playful whine.

“But you are my goddess, and I’d love to worship you like you deserve, queen of my heart,” I reply, only partially joking.

She still scoffs, but I kiss her again. I store away the idea for another day to have her submit to my compliments and praise without complaint or back talk, but for now, I will follow where she leads.

“Shall we go to the bedroom?” I suggest.

“To the playroom, actually,” she says, spine straightening.

I contain my eager grin as I let her up and follow her obediently into the play space I helped design. Closing the door behind me, I stride over to where she’s stopped in the middle of the room, hands on her hips. I want to laugh, to praise her for her imperious look, but I would hate to undermine her confidence.

“Clothes off, then, please,” she says, tacking on the nicety almost like an afterthought.

“Yes, my goddess,” I reply, following her command without hesitation.

Peeling off my clothes hastily, I throw them in a corner to be dealt with later. Once I’m down to my skin, Lydia’s eyes rake up and down my body, her desire like an open flame licking at our bond, warming me from the inside. My cock is standing nearly straight up, leaking fluid steadily. Lydia’s tongue darts out to wet her lips absently as she watches a pearly bead form on the tip, stepping forward to catch it on a single digit before it can drip onto the floor. She purrs as she sucks her finger clean, eyes rolling back into her head with pleasure at the taste. I bring one hand up to pump more out for her, but she slaps my wrist away before I can get close.

“Onto the bed, hands above your head,” she orders, remembering herself at last.

I give her a little smirk before following her instructions, lying on my back with my hands stretched above me toward the headboard. We’d ordered this bed specifically so someone of my stature could assume such a position without my feet hanging off the end, but it’s close. Lydia has to climb onto the mattress beside my shoulder in order to reach across and secure my wrists together with ice-blue rope. She fusses for a while, and once she’s finished, I test the binding. There’s no emergency escape pull for me to use, but after so many years, I know how to break out of pretty much any tie, and this is no exception. I let her carry on thinking I’m secure, but I’m only as trapped as I allow myself to be.

“We’ll use the regular safe words, if that’s okay?” Lydia says, framing it like a question.

“Red to stop, yellow to slow down. Understood, my goddess,” I say with a nod.

She gives me a stern look, and then out of nowhere, she grabs my cock firmly, gripping the base as my knot begins to swell. I shout a curse involuntarily, not prepared for the sudden stimulation. But she doesn’t let up, squeezing hard as my knot pulses with my heartbeat, the pressure incredible and unlike anything I’ve experienced. My knot can’t inflate fully with the way she’s holding me, and the ache builds until I almost feel the beginnings of an orgasm at the base of my spine. But it’s not enough for me to come yet, and the look on her face tells me she knows it, too.

I pant, closing my eyes as I try to thrust up into her hand, to get any kind of friction, but she only moves with me. I’m on the verge of asking for more, but then she lets go and slides off the bed, leaving me with a twitching cock and aching balls. And to make matters worse, she saunters to the end of the bed and slowly, ever so slowly, peels away her clothes.

“You’re so beautiful,” I whisper reverently, salivating as she reaches behind her back and deftly pops the hooks of her bra.

She just smiles, shrugging out of the straps, holding the cups in place until the last moment. My cock twitches as I watch her breasts bounce with the movement, and I groan, licking my lips. Her nipples are already hard, a dark dusty rose against her pale skin. I try to sit up, forgetting for a moment about my bindings, only to be pulled back down. She giggles, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

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