excited. I could have imagined those words. It would make sense, considering they were the exact words I'd been dying to hear.
But it wasn’t a trick. Just like I had unleashed what was in my head with crystal clarity, Jacob stood tall, imposing, and riled up by my attitude. All signs pointed to the acronym that once made me tremble with fear and excitement. Now, there was only an insatiable need for it: BDSM.
There wasn't pity in my husband's eyes, or the more painful ache of helplessness. His eyes were steely blue and focused. His beautiful glare set fire to my flesh, a chain reaction that began between my thighs and pebbled my nipples like his teeth were already punishing me.
Ye s , I thought, a flash of want lighting up my body . Punish m e .
I'd seen flickers of it when I purposefully provoked him, hoping for some switch to flip, or some final step to be taken so we could be there for each other in a way that mere sex didn't satisfy. I needed to submit. I needed to look into his eyes and let him see me in ways that no one else saw me. In that space, there was ultimate trust. He knew just how far to take me, to take us, so that we could finally be whole.
I blinked rapidly, a statue otherwise. I was still in some form of shock. After all of my past failed attempts, it was hard to believe this wasn't a glimmer or a trick of the light. But something had changed. I felt it in the way the air was suddenly charged with tense desire. I saw it rippling in the sharp lines of his angular jaw. It was confirmed in the delicious way his tongue glided across his lips when I turned to face him.
I knew he was about to order me to my knees. He had his role to play and I had mine, but I wouldn't be me if I went quietly into that good, toe curling, moan-filled night.
I slowly drew my hand to my hip, playing dumb. “Murder? I'm not sure what you mean.”
His voice was calm, but the edge was there. It wouldn't be denied or questioned.
“Put your hands on the stool, ass facing me.”
I told my body to run to the center of the dressing room and obey. The plush stool sat in front of a semi-circle of full length mirrors. I'd get to watch in living color from every angle.
I wanted to plant my hands firmly on the cushion and await the very spanking I'd been gunning for, but my head was still spinning with the realization that tonight, he wouldn't hold me tenderly and ask me that question again. The only question he'd be asking was for my color. Green if I was okay. Yellow if I needed him to slow down. Red if I needed him to stop.
Tonight, Jacob was going to fuck me.
By the time I'd stopped waxing lyrical about it, it was too late. The glossy, wild hair I'd been cooing about was lassoed, his fingers gripping the curly strands as he took ahold of me. A flash of pain raced across my scalp, sending adrenaline coursing through me like electricity. It was like I was sleeping before but now I was finally, blissfully awake. We both were.
My eyelids shut and I basked in the moment as he pulled my body back against a wall of hard, powerful muscle.
His breath caressed my cheek, but the bite behind his words was anything but sweet. “You've clearly forgotten how we do things around here. When I tell you to do something, you do it. Period. No questions. No hesitation. Understood?”
I was being reprimanded, but I couldn't help but smile. I was consumed by the thrill of being unsure of how I'd be disciplined, but there was also a comfort in knowing that it would scratch the itch we both so desperately needed to be scratched.
“Yes sir,” I whispered hotly.
His other hand snaked across my abdomen and I sighed with content. No one had ever touched me the way he touched me. No one moved me the way he moved me.
He glided over my breasts, gripping my hardened nipples tight before he released, his final destination yet to be revealed. He stroked the taut line of my neck, then rested his fingertips on my lips where my smile was still in full
But it wasn’t a trick. Just like I had unleashed what was in my head with crystal clarity, Jacob stood tall, imposing, and riled up by my attitude. All signs pointed to the acronym that once made me tremble with fear and excitement. Now, there was only an insatiable need for it: BDSM.
There wasn't pity in my husband's eyes, or the more painful ache of helplessness. His eyes were steely blue and focused. His beautiful glare set fire to my flesh, a chain reaction that began between my thighs and pebbled my nipples like his teeth were already punishing me.
Ye s , I thought, a flash of want lighting up my body . Punish m e .
I'd seen flickers of it when I purposefully provoked him, hoping for some switch to flip, or some final step to be taken so we could be there for each other in a way that mere sex didn't satisfy. I needed to submit. I needed to look into his eyes and let him see me in ways that no one else saw me. In that space, there was ultimate trust. He knew just how far to take me, to take us, so that we could finally be whole.
I blinked rapidly, a statue otherwise. I was still in some form of shock. After all of my past failed attempts, it was hard to believe this wasn't a glimmer or a trick of the light. But something had changed. I felt it in the way the air was suddenly charged with tense desire. I saw it rippling in the sharp lines of his angular jaw. It was confirmed in the delicious way his tongue glided across his lips when I turned to face him.
I knew he was about to order me to my knees. He had his role to play and I had mine, but I wouldn't be me if I went quietly into that good, toe curling, moan-filled night.
I slowly drew my hand to my hip, playing dumb. “Murder? I'm not sure what you mean.”
His voice was calm, but the edge was there. It wouldn't be denied or questioned.
“Put your hands on the stool, ass facing me.”
I told my body to run to the center of the dressing room and obey. The plush stool sat in front of a semi-circle of full length mirrors. I'd get to watch in living color from every angle.
I wanted to plant my hands firmly on the cushion and await the very spanking I'd been gunning for, but my head was still spinning with the realization that tonight, he wouldn't hold me tenderly and ask me that question again. The only question he'd be asking was for my color. Green if I was okay. Yellow if I needed him to slow down. Red if I needed him to stop.
Tonight, Jacob was going to fuck me.
By the time I'd stopped waxing lyrical about it, it was too late. The glossy, wild hair I'd been cooing about was lassoed, his fingers gripping the curly strands as he took ahold of me. A flash of pain raced across my scalp, sending adrenaline coursing through me like electricity. It was like I was sleeping before but now I was finally, blissfully awake. We both were.
My eyelids shut and I basked in the moment as he pulled my body back against a wall of hard, powerful muscle.
His breath caressed my cheek, but the bite behind his words was anything but sweet. “You've clearly forgotten how we do things around here. When I tell you to do something, you do it. Period. No questions. No hesitation. Understood?”
I was being reprimanded, but I couldn't help but smile. I was consumed by the thrill of being unsure of how I'd be disciplined, but there was also a comfort in knowing that it would scratch the itch we both so desperately needed to be scratched.
“Yes sir,” I whispered hotly.
His other hand snaked across my abdomen and I sighed with content. No one had ever touched me the way he touched me. No one moved me the way he moved me.
He glided over my breasts, gripping my hardened nipples tight before he released, his final destination yet to be revealed. He stroked the taut line of my neck, then rested his fingertips on my lips where my smile was still in full
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