Do I let him in that deep? That far? Do I open myself up to him? Do I want him inside me?
God, I do.
I really do.
That scares me the most, especially after today.
Is my mind so twisted that I’m actually considering this?
“I ...” I try, but my voice is betraying me.
“Yes or no.”
Biting my lip, I stare up at him.
“Yes,” I say, before my brain even has a chance to change my mind.
“I have rules.”
Rules?
He has rules?
“Do not touch me.”
Don’t touch him? At all? I don’t understand?
“Why?” I whisper.
“Because I said don’t. Clear?”
I can only think of one thing that he’s asking of me right now, and I’m not sure it’s a situation I’m comfortable with. Not entirely, anyway.
“Are you asking me to submit?”
My voice comes out shaky, my stomach twisting with nerves.
“Yes.”
Oh.
Oh. My.
“And if I don’t?” I breathe.
He leans down until his lips are nearly touching mine. “Then I walk.”
I’ve never been in a situation like this before. All the men I’ve been with have been gentle, if not boring, lovers. Western is telling me that I have to keep my hands off, and he is the boss. He will control the entire situation, and if I try to have a say, he will leave. How am I to enjoy it, if I can’t put my hands on him? My lips on his skin? My mouth on his cock?
“I can’t touch you at all?” I ask.
“No.”
“Then how will I enjoy it?”
Releasing my jaw, he steps back. “You’ll enjoy it.”
The way he says that, his tone gravelly and confident, has my insides heating.