Authors: Lena Black
“I’m curious about something. I was
reading about certain scenarios and wondering if you had participated in them. Have you ever auctioned off your slaves or participated in a black sheet party?”
He appears shocked by my question, eyes casting horror and dismay.
“Dear god, no. I would never degrade anyone in such a fashion. My slaves were mine, and no man was ever allowed to touch, look, or speak to them, let alone fuck them. I would never make my private life a group affair. Gang bangs aren’t my style.”
“How do you know if you never try?” I tease, giggling.
“I’ve had a threesome,” he responds, impassive, and takes another sip of wine.
“You’ve had a threesome?”
“Yes.”
“Two girls?”
He gives me a stern look and shoots up a brow. “Yes.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
Did I really just ask if he enjoyed having sex with two girls? Good one, Hyde.
“Yes, but I prefer the one on one experience. I enjoy putti
ng all my focus into one person rather than splitting it up between two and depriving them of my full attention.”
“Good. That is definitely a hard limit for me…Have you ever had more than one slave at a time?”
“Yes,” he replies cautiously, eyes scanning my face for a reaction. I can only stare, mouth hanging open wide as I’m dumbfounded to the point of speechlessness. When I get my wits about me, I continue my interrogation, though I know the next inquiry will probably tick him off, I must ask it.
“Will you ever take on more than one again?”
“No, I’ve no desire or need for more than one, more than you. That is what you were asking, correct?”
“Yes.”
“What did I tell you about communication? I want you to be upfront and honest. Ask what you mean, and mean what you ask. The next infraction will be punished.”
“Sorry.”
“No apologies. Don’t do it.” He shoots me a stern look and takes a sip of his wine. “Do you think I would subject you to such things as multiple partners or give you to another?”
“No, but…”
“You’re mine. All mine. I would
never
do anything to harm or degrade you, take advantage of or pervert what we have.”
“It’s pretty perverted already,” I joke
, and a ghost of a smile brushes across his lips.
“Touché.”
“I like perverted.” I flirt, running the toe of my pump along his calf and inner thigh, grazing his semi-hard cock. “My what a big cock you have.”
His eyes widen for a
n instant and that faint smirk morphs into something darker. “All the better to fuck you with, my dear.”
I smirk seductively and take another sip of wine. A thought pops into my head and now seems to be the time to ask any bedroom related
queries.
“Did you use condoms with them?”
“Where do these questions come from?”
“I don’t thin
k they’re entirely out of placeconsidering your lifestyle
.
I only asked those questions because you said you were different before me, and I wanted clarity. I’m just attempting to figure out how large a difference.”
He hesitates before answering, “Yes, I did. You’re the only one I prefer not to use one with, only you. I possess an overwhelming need to feel you against me without any barrier between us.”
“You wore one every time?”
“Yes. It was drawn-up in the contract. Two forms of birth control must be used with every sexual encounter. You?”
“Yes, every time…Do I get a contract?”
He appears appalled by the question.
“Why would you ask me that?” I look out at the pitch-black waters of Lake Union, avoiding eye contact, wary of the direction this conversation has taken. “Gabrielle, answer me.” He’s clipped, obviously hurt.
“I assumed because we’re entering into a BDSM relationshi
p you would want me to sign one as well.”
“I made my intentions with you clear. You’re my girlfriend and lover playing a role. You’re not what they were.”
“Aren’t I? I mean, you laid out rules for me to follow, you’re teaching me the many aspects of being a sub. You’ve collared me for Christ sake.”
I hold up my hand to remind him of my place.
I can’t believe I’m becoming offended by the idea that I’m not what they were. Perhaps, it’s my own insecurities of not being enough for him.
“Yes, but not the extent of my previous slaves. I held them to a much higher standard. They were never a
llowed to speak freely the way you do, or talk to me in the tone you do, or refuse an order, ever.”
I feel a pang in my heart, in my gut. I’m officially offended by his ‘standard’ comment.
Why shouldn’t he hold me to the same degree of excellence?
I feel my face flush, but I chalk it up to plain old jealousy and take a long draw of my wine to calm myself.
“So, no contract
then.”
“No. We don
’t need one…Well, not that type anyway.”
I squirm.
“Marriage license,” I murmur under my breath. I grab my glass and down another big gulp of wine. “I thought you were going to ease up. At least until we’ve been living together for a minute,” I say shrewdly.
“So, you
are
moving in with me.”
I suddenly feel hot and uneasy. “Yes. No. I don’t know…I told you I would give you an answer at the end of the week. Please, let’s not talk about it until then.”
“I apologize. I’m not purposely trying to shove it down your throat. Please, don’t be upset with me.”
“I’m not. It’s just every time you
ask me or talk about the future I clam up. I need to think. I don’t know if I can give myself to you the way you desire. Right now anyway. I’m very confused.”
“You’re not sure you want to be with me?” He’s wounded.
“Of course I do. You must realize we’re moving lightning fast. I’m overcome by your need to propel us into such a massive step in our relationship. Do you really comprehend what you’re asking me? I’ve enjoyed playing house with you, and it’s nice to picture, but it isn’t easy having someone in your space twenty-four/seven.”
“I’m overpowered, too. Do you think I like fawning over and pushing all of this on you? I’m unsure how to deal with the feelings I carry for you. I want all of you rig
ht now. What I can’t comprehend is how you could speak casually of our lifestyle, but I mention a future together, and you fall apart. And for your information, I’ve given moving in together serious consideration. If it’s anything like these past few days, I’m sure of what I’m asking you.”
I slump back into my chair and let my heavy arms hang at my sides as my body sags. I’m emotionally sick from the turn this conversation has taken. He stares back at me with a tense face, shoulders back, totally composed while I’m a wreck.
He speaks, and it betrays his demeanor, “This isn’t how I imagined it would go.”
“Same, kid. What now?”
“Are you finished?”
I glimpse down at what’s left from the steak he ordered me. “Yes. I can’t eat another bite. He tosses a small stack of large bills on the table.
“Then we should get out of here. Where would you like to go?”
I sit up and reply,
“Home.”
He smirks. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I would prefer to be alone with you, curled up in bed.”
“I second.” He rises and offers me an elbow to hold onto.
I get up and wrap my arm around his. “Shall we, dear?”
W
hen we arrive home, he goes into the kitchen and I head upstairs to undress. I throw on a long, black silk robe, opting for nothing underneath. The cool silk soothes and calms me with its gentle caress. I glance at the clock with heavy lidded eyes. Nine forty-three. I’m ready to zonk out, but I need to find Hunt first.
He’s out on the veranda, looking absolutely divine. He’s taken off his jacket, shoes, and socks, wearing only a dress shirt and slacks. His hair tussles in the wind while he peers out at the blazing Seattle skyline and bay. The whimsical, glowing blue lanterns gently swing in the crisp breeze coming off the water.
I walk up behind him and take in his intoxicating aroma. The delicious musk of fresh laundry and virile pheromones triggers something in me.
“This place is magical. I feel euphoric.”
He faces me, impassive. “We can come here whenever you like. I’ll give it to you if you want it.”
I lean in and hug him close, craving his touch, his heat. He returns my affections and cradles me with his cheek laying atop my nuzzled head.
“I prefer you didn’t. However, I will take you up on your open-ended invitation. Thank you.”
“
No need to thank me. I told you to think of everything as yours.”
I sigh and roll my
eyes dramatically.
“I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to freak.”
He pulls away to stare down at me.
“Y
ou should panic. You’re right for doing so. We had no knowledge of one another more than two weeks ago and most of that was spent apart. I’m rushing you, and that’ll stop, starting now.”
“I think we’ve more than made-up for time lost.”
He kisses my forehead and lips.
“Thanks for understanding.
I’m still considering your offer. I want you to know I want you as much as you want me. The time we’ve spent together has been stimulating and extraordinary. Every moment with you is the best of my life, and they only get better as they pass. I wouldn’t change a moment of it.”
“There’s a que
stion I want to ask that’s been gnawing at me since dinner…Do you want a contract?”
“I’d like a document
I might reference stating the guidelines of our relationship, list of your expectations, rules, and limits. If you wish to call it a contract then I will sign it.”
“They
are
beneficial,” he says to himself, mulling it over. “I’ll have them drawn up, and we can discuss it further then.”
“Them?”
“Yes, a copy for you and one for me…By the way, thank you.”
“What for?”
“Thank you for communicating with me and your willingness to learn and grow from my teachings. Don’t think this is disregarded or unappreciated.”
“I want you to be pleased with me.”
“You please me greatly…Now that we’ve said our piece, let’s make-up in the manner we communicate best.”
He swoops down onto my eager lips, and his tongue dips into me. The sensation of him taking my mouth sends arousing waves from lips to tips, weakening my knees as it trickles down
ward. Hunt’s firm hold keeps me from buckling or floating away, I’m not sure which, because honestly, I could do either.
His palm splays and roams my silk draped back. It’s
titillating. Damian’s lips creep up to my earlobe, where he nips and licks, continuing down my neck to my collarbone, tracing it with his pleasure inducing tongue. I shove shaky hands into his caramel brown mane and tug as adrenaline courses through my veins, causing my heart to pound and a weakening tingle just under the skin. The feel of Hunt on me always does this to me, sending all my senses into overdrive.
He moves those mesmerizing lips back up my neck and chin. “We should take this inside and get out of the cold,” he suggests.
I forgot about the chill in the air because his warm body’s keeping me comfortable. I nod, dazed, and he scoops me up and carries me to the bedroom.
“I know how to walk. I’ve been doing it most of my life,” I teasingly comment.
“You may want to inform your legs because you practically fainted in my arms.” Hunt rebuttals with a kinked smirk and elevated brow.
Once we’re near the bed, his lopsided grin transforms into a mischievous, child-like smile. He’s up to something.
“Ever wish you could fly?” He chuckles.
I glance at the bed and then back at him.
“Don’t you dare!” I squeal out a little too late. I’m soaring threw the air and bouncing onto the center of the mattress. I lie there with my hair fanned out and robe seductively open, revealing bare thighs and breasts.
“Mmmm, I love when you’re sprawled out and panting for me. It reminds me of the meeting debacle.”
“You always know just what to say,” I reply mockingly.
He beams down at me lovingly.
“One of the many talents I possess,” he replies, mirroring my tone. His gaze turns shadowy and lustful. “Who do you want, Gabrielle?”
I peer up at hi
m with the confused, deer-in-headlights look I seem to have on my face a lot as of late.
“You?” I answer quizzically.
“I’m happy to hear, though, that’s not what I meant.”
I realize he meant which part of him I want to bed. “Who are you feeling more?” I inquire flirtatiously.