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“Tell me what you want, Treacle.” She sucks in a quick breath and tightens her grip on my biceps. “What does Treacle mean?” My eyes close because I didn’t mean to say it out loud. It’s an East London word that an old trainer for Bethnal used a lot, and for some reason it stuck. “It’s a British term for sweet. Treacle is a type of sweet molasses.” Her nose wrinkles with disgust. “Why would you call me molasses?”
….I YouTube’d this word on the off chance that my pronunciation was just off and it sounded better in real life. NOPE 🤣
Fuck me. I’m not even touching her and she’s reacting this strongly. Don’t fucking stop, Treacle.
🤣🤣
“You got it, Treacle,” I reply.
“It’s good to see you again, Treacle.” Her eyes snap open. “That! That is why I’ve been avoiding you.” “Because of a silly nickname?” “It’s not silly.” She looks offended. “Then what is it?” Her eyes go starry for a second as she glances down at my lips. “It’s…nice. It’s nice, and I’m divorced,
“You think too much, Tre,”
Not the shortened version 🤣🤣
I smile and rub the aching spot she left behind. That’s the Treacle I remember.
It was unprofessional, unladylike, dirty, filthy, kinky, and a million different things.
But let’s be honest, was it really that kinky or did we just ask him to take his pants off in a really not nice voice…
“Fucking you was the highlight of my year, Treacle.”
“The ball is in your court now, Treacle.”
“I like Treacle.”
My body’s reaction is immediate. “Anywhere in particular, Treacle?”
“Treacle”—he utters my nickname with such reverence
“Let’s do this, Treacle.”
“Treacle, I’ve wanted you to fuck me for the past year.”
“Fuck, Treacle.”
“Call me Treacle,” she growls, releasing my shirt so I can watch her yank her own up over her head and kick off her flats. “From now on, Treacle or Tre. I’m not Sloan when I’m here.”
“Treacle or Tre, Gareth. I’ve told you this.” “Sorry, Tre. Treacle. Got it,” he states,
“I can’t believe I didn’t see this coming. You’re not surrendering your control. You’re topping from the bottom. You’ve been topping me this whole time!”
Hilarious 🤣
“I’m my own fucking man out on the streets.
A dom in the streets, a sub in the sheets *allegedly*
“How do you see me?” I ask, my voice thick with fear. He sighs heavily like he’s been sitting on his answer for ages. “Like a fucking lioness. And any rightful king would be a fool not to bow to his queen.”
A full body cringe - I love it
We’ve spent another full week screwing like wild animals. I even got to try my hand at spanking him earlier tonight.
Why is all the fun stuff mentioned after? Fade to black no thanks!
It pisses me off that he called me Sloan. He knows I prefer Treacle when I’m here.
“That I know nothing about you, except for how you like to be fucked! Are you out fucking other guys like this? Asking them to bend over so you can whip them like a sadistic whore?”
I call bullshit - I read no whipping scenes.
“You think I’m a sadist?”
🙄
“We’ve changed. We’re not just one thing anymore. We’re more, Sloan.” “Treacle,” I correct, my voice wavering. “Sloan,” he retorts. “In my mind, you are my Sloan and my Treacle.
Suddenly, a sharp force assaults my left temple, and I crash to a heap beside her motionless body. The last thing I see before my vision goes black is a pool of blood growing between us.
What??
