Page 96 of Edging Coach
“Just really gotta piss.” I stuck out my tongue. “Beer breath.”
Slowly, he nodded. “Sure. Of course.” He stuck his tongue out. “Mint toothpaste.”
“Perfect.” Yet I stood for just a moment longer—taking in his precious face. Memorizing as if I might forget it if I wasn’t careful. Like I did my mom sometimes. I kept those photos andrecordings so I’d never forget her. But if I went too long without them, I might forget. Not the color of her eyes or anything like that—but her secret smile. Her joie de vivre. I shook my head—mostly to clear my thoughts. “On the bed or not on the bed. Stroking yourself or?—”
He grasped my arms, pulled me in for a rough kiss, and then hopped onto the bed with a grace that belied his strength and injuries. Then he clearly realized the comforter was still on the bed. Sheepishly, he rolled off the bed, lowered it, and hopped back onto the mattress.
I headed to the bathroom. When my teeth were brushed and my bladder was empty, I headed into the bedroom.
One lamp illuminated the space with a soft yellow glow.
The drapes held the cold, wet night at bay. Only a muted sound of rain could be heard.
For tonight, we were the only two people on earth.
And as I made sweet love to him, I held the tears at bay.
Barely.
As he slept, though, I let the grief of my mother’s death mingle with the anticipated grief of the moment we drove away from this amazing oasis of peace.
CHAPTER 27
JACK
The toys laid out on the bed made my mouth water and my body ache. The pain he inflicted was awful in the moment, but amazing at the same time. Addictive. I’d never experienced something so simultaneously horrible and beautiful, and I couldn’t get enough.
He’d gone for a run this morning while I’d showered, then he’d showered himself. Now, as the rain battered the windows outside, it was time to play.
“Everything here all right?” Devon gestured at the toys.
Licking my lips, I nodded. “All of it. Yes.”
His smile made my knees weak. “Perfect. Strip.”
Not that I needed to remove much—we’d both been lounging in the provided bathrobes since our respective showers.
I untied the belt and shrugged off the robe. The air was cool against my skin, but I wasn’t cold. Completely comfortable as I eagerly anticipated the sting and thud and burn of his toys against my flesh.
Devon changed from his bathrobe into a T-shirtand a pair of shorts. Not the classic Dom or leather-daddy look, but it meant he had all the range of motion he needed and he wouldn’t get too hot. It also put his powerful arms and thighs on full display, which was to say nothing about how the shirt sat on his incredible shoulders or how the shorts clung to his round ass. He would probably look spectacular in leather, but I had no complaints about this.
Standing in front of me, Devon said, “Kneel.”
I would never stop loving how my knees seemed to be hardwired to obey that command. One word from him, and I was on the floor at his feet.
“Calisse,” he murmured, stroking my wet hair. Just inches from my face, the shorts tented with his erection. Would he fuck me this time? Sometimes he did, sometimes he didn’t. I hoped he did. I wanted him buried in me again. I wanted his hands on me. His toys. His whip. My senses sang with hunger for all the things he’d do to me. I wanted it all. I wanted?—
I wanted more.
“Sir.” I gazed up at him. “I…”
He tilted his head, concern in his eyes. Caressing my cheek, he whispered, “Tell me.”
“I, uh…” I swallowed hard. “Tie me.”
My own words sent twin surges of fear and determination through me.
Devon’s lips parted. “Tie you? But you don’t like bondage.”
