I tried not to bite my lip as I looked up at him. “I, um… don’t think I spend enough time on my knees, in front of you.”
It was the truth, the truest words I had spoken today.
He took a tiny step toward me, and my breath caught in my throat. I found myself taking a tiny step backward, my gaze dropping to the floor. I watched him close that small distance between us again, and I fought my instincts to keep backing away.
The air around him seemed to prickle along my skin. This man’s presence was overwhelming; my ears buzzed with it. He seemed to fill the space around him, taking up so much more than simply the width of his body. “Is that so.” His inflection was not a question.
I blushed, continuing to stare at the tile at my feet. This would be so much easier if I were kneeling. I ached for it. Kneeling felt somehow… right, in front of that strange power that seemed to shimmer off his skin. It felt right, and good, and proper. He made me want to submit.
I worried at my lip with my teeth. How long had it been, since I had actually wanted to submit?
I wasn’t some shrinking violet. I was a professional woman, for gods’ sake. Desire for submission was something I had long ago packed away in my mind, naive fantasies of a younger girl, one who didn’t have the wherewithal to choose well for herself.
I chose well for myself. I had made a life choosing well for myself, because I had found, disappointingly, that no one else would. So why was I here, now, unable to convince myself to meet his eyes? Why did my knees ache to bend?
I had no good answers, except that it simply was.
A shiver ran down my body at my own realization. I wanted to submit. I wanted to rub myself against the hardness of him, let myself fall into it. Into him, in front of him.
My stomach knotted like I hadn’t eaten in months. “Please,” I began, my voice soft and needy. “Yes.”
His fingers traced along the side of my jaw, and I let my breath go as his grip settled on my chin. My chest felt cavernous, and I imagined that time itself slowed.
“I need you to breathe.”
I screwed my eyes shut. What the fuck was wrong with me?
“Breathe, princess.” There was a note of almost-wonder in his voice, like my response to him was just as much of a surprise to him as it was to me. His fingers tightened, and he pulled my chin up so I was forced to look at his face.
I met his eyes, and my lungs filled again. The air felt sweet, as if by his movement he had allowed it.
His lips quirked. “Good. Now tell me again, where do you want to be?”
My cheeks flushed hotter, and I licked my lips more out of nervousness than desire. “On my knees. In front of you.” I closed my eyes, feeling the pads of his fingers dig into my jaw bone. “Please.”
“Open your eyes, princess. Look at me and tell me again.”
There was a small part of my brain that worried that my tendons themselves might dissolve, before he allowed me the position that I craved.
I opened my eyes again. The expression on his face was at once imposing and nearly worshipful, full of dark dominance. My insides oozed, watching the barely-restrained arousal crawl across his features.
“Please,” I begged. I needed to submit.
I needed to feed that twin flame.
“Please, what?” His thumb brushed over my cheek bone, and I leaned into it.
“Why do you have to make this so difficult?”
He turned his head, dropping his hold, and laughed. “I think there’s a David Carradine line that about sums it up.”
I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t.
He ran his fingers through his hair, the remnants of his smile like glittering sparks on a dark ocean. “Maybe I just like watching you blush.”
My face heated again. “Do you?”
He nodded. “I do.” He stepped closer, so that no space remained between us. From this vantage point, he seemed to loom over me. “I like to watch you blush and struggle with yourself.”
That comment should have iced my veins, but it didn’t. Nothing this man did, had the expected response from me. I wasn’t normally a woman that struggled with my desires, but… I had to admit there was some truth to his statement. And strangely, it made me want to show him that struggle even more.
I wanted to show him my aching hunger, so he could push his fingers into it and show me just how hungry I was. I wanted him to touch it, and make it worse.
“Please,” I said, looking up at him. “Please let me kneel in front of you. I… need it.”
“You need it?”
I wasn’t sure my cheeks could get darker, but I was wrong. “Please.”
He pushed a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “Hmm. Not yet, I don’t think.”
“Not yet?” I fought to keep the incredulity out of my voice.
“Are you giving me an attitude, princess?” A dangerous, eager look curled his lips.
There — there — were those icy fronds blossoming through my blood.
“No,” I whispered, my eyes wide. I didn’t know exactly what I was being threatened with, but the air in my throat was thick with it. And that threat made my pussy clench.
“Are you sure?” he said, his voice syrupy.
“Yes, Sir. No attitude.” I don’t know what possessed me to add the honorific, but again, it just seemed… right.
His smile widened and dipped into something darker. “Good girl. I didn’t think so.”
A low, needy moan escaped my throat when he said good girl.
I really shouldn’t like this as much as I did.
“Please, fuck, let me kneel in front of you.” I dropped my eyes back to the floor, exactly at the spot that I wanted to be, at his feet.
“I told you already, not yet.”
My nipples peaked at his denial, and he brought his hands up to brush against them.
“Do you like when I tell you ‘no,’ princess?” He continued to tease. “I bet that’s something you don’t hear very often, do you?”
I swallowed dryly, as my traitorous pussy dripped. “Please…” I begged. As the seconds ticked on, my ability to think, to reason, deteriorated.
His slow torment of my nipples continued. Feather-light touches felt high-voltage. My blouse was in the way.
I brought shaking fingers to the row of front buttons, but then I stopped. I didn’t know why I was doing this; this wasn’t like me. But with him, I couldn’t deny it. Couldn’t help but fall into that sweet submissive mind space. “Please let me take off my top, Sir.”
This time, his expression was positively wicked with triumph. “Of course, princess. Please do.”
I fumbled with the buttons, hyper-aware of the weight of his gaze on me.
After what seemed like an eternity, the silky blouse was puddled on the floor, and I stood bare chested in front of him. My nipples throbbed with the need of his touch. “Touch me, please.”
I couldn’t recall a time when my voice had sounded so… desperate.
He raised his eyebrows. “These?” His fingers brushed against my nipples. “Here?” He trailed down my stomach and between my legs. “Or here? Tell me what you want, princess.”
Heat flared from where his hand tickled my most sensitive spot.
What did I want?
Even over my jeans, he built my need expertly, unfolding an aching agony across my nerves.
What did I want?
Thoughts evaporated, like tiny effervescent bubbles in the depths of his control. I could picture myself surrounded by it, as he played my body like he owned it. The depth of his dominance was at once devastating and freeing, emotions that should have conflicted, but somehow didn’t.
I wanted him to touch me. Make it worse. Feed the flame.
“I want to… take off my jeans. Please let me take off my jeans.” I paused, having another thought. “And my panties, please.”
He dragged his fingers away from my pussy, and I mourned the loss. “Impatient,” he said.
“Please,” I voiced. It was all I could think to say.
He took a step back. “As you wish.” His heated gaze skirted over my body.
At any other time, I would have tried to make a show out of the the action of stripping out of my pants. I would have tried to entice. Make it a tease in itself.
But this man had wound my need so tight that there no room for that left in my mind.
I needed him, now. I shucked off my jeans and my embarrassingly damp panties, piling them on top of the shirt already on the floor. As I stood in front of him, nude, I shivered as he danced his fingertips over my shoulders. Goosebumps raised in his wake.
Arousal swirled, making me hot and wet and needy.
He smiled down at me. “Now you’re ready, princess. Get on your knees.”
Photo by Jairo Alzate on Unsplash