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She hasn’t done a goddamn thing on the list, and she’s already perfectly submissive. What the fuck was Harry thinking to fuck it up so badly with her? He doesn’t deserve her. Not that it makes a difference to him. He thinks he deserves everything he wants.
“You’re this giant, grumpy dude who has handkerchiefs and who makes hot chocolate, and who goes to find blankets for blue haired pixies.”
“I’m not a nice guy, Talia, and this isn’t a romance novel. We’re two people trapped in weird circumstances by a snow storm. I don’t do making love. I don’t do soft and gentle. I fuck.”
“It’s in my nature as a dominant to be caring, but don’t mistake my responsibility as some soft and mushy bullshit. You won’t find that here.”
What happens at the dark and mysterious s-e-x club, stays at the dark and mysterious s-e-x club, right?
“Kiss me like I’m the woman on the throne. Not the chaste girl on a pedestal.”
I’ve never wanted someone’s hand around my throat before. Even reading about it in my books, the ‘hand necklace’ in a lot of stories doesn’t make it sound as arousing and thrilling as having Jagger’s giant hand curled around my fragile neck.
Part of me knows it’s unsafe, and yet, the same part almost feels exhilarated, like I want to push that boundary further, I want his hand to tighten even more. The idea of not being in control of my own breaths is equal parts terrifying and electrifying.
Has he done it before? Choked someone? Controlled the very breath that enters into t...
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His teeth clash against mine as his kiss intensifies. Need bubbles under my skin, scorching, pulsing, a hunger so deep I couldn’t reach it even if I tried. Pressing my thighs together isn’t helping. The heat, th...
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The only thing I need to do right now is stand the fuck down. My dick has this woman pinned to the wall by her goddamn stomach like a spear. There’s no telling it that it’s not go time. It’s leaking precum into my boxer-briefs. The heavy pulsing and tightness in my balls demands release, and my head is spinning from how delicious this little sprite tastes.
I’d ask who hurt her, but I already know the answer. Harry takes everything good from people and uses it to make his own life better. He hurt her. He’s clearly controlled her sexually, and not in a positive way. And certainly not for her benefit.
She clears her throat, her jaw trembling. Suddenly, my rivalry with her ex feels petty. Who gives a fuck what happened in college? This woman has been broken down, she’s a shell. She’s insecure and self-conscious and in this moment, the bright and bubbly pixie from the plane is nowhere to be seen. It makes my blood boil and my insides liquefy. I want to kill him.
“He caught me doing it once.” She snorts, a bitter sound juxtaposing the tears trickling down her face. “At least I was alone, unlike when I caught him.” She brushes the tears from her jawline with the back of her hand. “He told me it was dirty, disgusting even, and that I shoul...
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Minutes ago I wanted to ruin her for Harry. Now I want to destroy the asshole.
The way she flinches every time I drop the F-bomb is so cute. It makes me want to say it in every sentence until she becomes desensitized to it. Wonder if she’d flinch as hard if my mouth was on her when I said it.
Please get handsy. Please get handsy. Please get handsy.
I don’t know how long I’ve been lying with a giant grump man curled around me in this bed, but I’m finally starting to get feeling back in my fingers and feet. For a while, I thought he had his phone in bed with him until I realized that thing digging into me was his peen.
Even though we only had s-e-x one time, I’ve slept in the same bed as Harry sometimes. He was never hard like this for me. So either it’s a general guy thing, and Harry was defective—Please Lord let Ha...
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#3 Talk dirty between the sheets.
Even the thought of saying that word he just said, out loud, makes my whole body shrivel up. It’s crass. Dirty. Offensive. And not something a girl like me should say. My parent’s words assault my mind as Jagger’s thumb glides back and forth on the sliver of skin where my shirt has ridden up.
“Whoever told you whatever it is making you tense up like this over the word ‘cock’ is wrong. Why give words ...
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“Th-this list was born from a voracious appetite for reading.” He snorts, making my hair move. “Classic literature has the word ‘cock’ in it? Huh. Who knew?” “I read all sorts.” I dig him with my elbow, a warm satisfaction spreading through me at his soft grunt. “Don’t shame me for what I enjoy.” “I don’t need to shame you for anything. You do it more than enough for both of us.”
“This isn’t morning wood, it’s not evening wood, it’s pure, unadulterated attraction, Talia.
When a beautiful woman pulls me up against her pert little ass it’s hard to hide the raging boner I’ve had in my pants all fucking night.”
New Talia made the conscious choice to be curious, and to leave her years of conditioning to be ashamed in the past. It’s not always going to work, it’s going to poke through here and there, but New Talia is exhausted from a lifetime of shame.
#9 Mutual masturbation
“We don’t even have to turn the light on if you don’t want to. But I have to admit, Half-Pint.” His breath is on my face again, his voice so close to my ear it’s sending waves of goosebumps all over my body. “I’d love to see you finger that tight little cunt of yours.”
What happens in the weird kinky dungeon, stays in the weird kinky dungeon, right?
This is new and improved Talia. Blue haired, strong spine, confident Talia. And a beautiful man has told me he’s turned on by me. That’s a heady, empowering feeling.
“You can control the lights from your phone?” He winks at me, his face serious. “You can control a lot of things from your phone. We can talk more about that if we get to do number six. Fingers, pussy, now.”
Every kinky book boyfriend I’ve ever read says “Good girl,” and Jagger not giving me the full thing is making me ache in a deep place I didn’t even know existed.
What do I have to do to make him tell me I’m a good girl?
Is death by balls exploding a thing? Because if I don’t get to take the edge off this soon, I may very well find out.
“There’s no sound your body can make that’s going to pull a reaction from me that isn’t desire.” I pause. “Unless you fart. Sometimes farts are funny.”
“And even then, if you fart, you fart. When you sign up to play, you sign up for the fluids, and the sounds, the queefs, the farts, the squelches.”
“Don’t hide, Half-Pint. Sex isn’t neat and tidy, it’s not pretty, it’s not clean. It’s messy, and raw, and loud. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s nothing to hide from or fear. Exploring yourself and your sexuality isn’t only normal, but it’s completely healthy. Don’t let anyone tell you it isn’t. Do you want to stop?”
“Fuck.” My teeth are gritted, my balls so heavy I’m not sure how I haven’t blown my load yet, and my dick is throbbing, so hard and ready for release.
“Okay. I’ll stay. But I need you to be a good girl for me, and let it all go. Just com—”
An ear piercing scream rips through the quiet air as her body bucks off the bed. Her shrill cry of release is unfettered, her eyes roll back in her head, mouth drops open, and I’ll be damned if my little Half-Pint doesn’t squirt over the bed.
“You have no idea how gorgeous you are when you come, Talia. So fucking beautiful.”
She’s not wrong. I don’t do fun. Tomorrow’s probably going to bring regret and shame from her, but for right now, the sprite is quiet, warm, and if I don’t cuddle her I could end up losing body parts to the weather. But I’ll face tomorrow, tomorrow.
Turns out, Mr. Grumpypants is also Mr. Protectivepants, and despite the fact there was a fresh helping of snow overnight, and another one on the way, he’s determined we should at least move to the hotel half a mile down the road.
Did I want to be forced to stay snowed in at a sex club with a gorgeous man who watched me make myself come last night? Yes. Yes, I did. And both old Talia and new Talia feel very strongly about it. It was the best orgasm I’ve ever had. Orgasms. Plural.
“Do you need a hug?” His voice is soft, sincere. “Why?” “Aftercare.” It’s one word, and it seems to blanket-cover a variety of things. I might need him to explain it to me more. “And the hair washing?” He nods. “Aftercare.” “And the bed?” He nods again but this time doesn’t speak. “Aftercare.”
“You’re really nice for a grumpy guy.”
“I’m a responsible dominant. I wouldn’t have encouraged you last night if I wasn’t prepared for the potential fall out today.” “Aftercare.” My voice is thick with sleep. “That’s right, Half-Pint. Aftercare.”
“Keep breathing. New Talia, remember? We aren’t entertaining assholes.”
I’m going to have to get creative to tease some conversation out of this man. Out of everyone on the planet, my chatty self gets landed with the world’s most stoic, quiet and sensible man alive. It’s just my luck. Thankfully, he’s pretty to look at.
Oof. The wind deflates from my lungs. He’s right. In the grand scheme of things, I am no one to him. But until those words left his lips, I thought, I dunno, maybe I thought I could maybe be someone.
