Page 31 of The Freeuse Proposal
We’re on the couch in our usual spot after dinner. Leo’s hand is on my thigh, the fire’s crackling, but I can’t relax. My heart’s beating too fast.
“Something on your mind, lass?” His thumb circles my knee. “You’ve gone quiet.”
I breathe in. Out. I’ve been carrying this question around for days, and it gets harder to ignore every time he touches me. Asking is harder than obeying ever was, but I want this too much to stay silent.
“I’ve been thinking about what we did. In the kitchen. On the table.” My cheeks flush just referencing it. “The edging.”
His hand stills. “Aye?”
“I want more.” The words tumble out before I can second-guess them. “Longer. I want to know what it’s like to be kept on the brink all day. Until I can’t think anymore. Until there’s nothing left but…” I trail off, not sure how to describe what I’m craving. The kind of gone where my brain finally shuts the fuck up.
Leo is quiet for a long moment. When I risk a glance at his face, his expression has changed. The warmth in his eyes is gone, replaced by hunger. My heart pounds harder.
“You’re asking me to break you, lass.” His voice is serious. “To push you past everything you think you can handle. That’s not something I take lightly.”
“I know. I want it anyway.”
He studies me, and I hold his gaze even though part of me wants to look away. Finally, a slow curve transforms his lips.
“There’s something else I think you’ve been curious about.” His hand travels higher on my thigh, fingertips brushing the hem of his long shirt I’m wearing. “Something you’ve been wondering about but haven’t asked for yet.”
My body buzzes. How does he always know?
“I’ve seen the way you react when I’m rough with you.” His voice drops so low I feel it in my chest. “The way your breath hitches when I hold you hard. The way you wiggle your ass when you’reon your hands and knees.” He leans closer, lips brushing my ear. “I think my sweet lass wants to be spanked. And I think she’s been too shy to ask.”
Heat floods me so fast I feel dizzy. He’s right. I’ve thought about it more than I want to admit. I’ve wondered what it would feel like to be bent over his knee. The image has kept me awake more than one night.
His experience shows in moments like this. He has decades of knowing exactly what he’s doing, what I need before I know it myself.
“Yes.” The word escapes on a breath. “I want that too.”
“Then that’s what you’ll get.” He tips my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. “But understand this, Alice. Once we start, I’m not stopping until I decide you’ve had enough. You’ll use your safewords if you need them. Red to stop, yellow to slow down. Repeat them.”
“Red to stop. Yellow to slow down.”
“Good girl.” Two words and I’m liquid. I melt against him like my bones have given up. “Now. We start in the morning. Go to sleep, pet. You’re going to need your rest.”
His hands wake me.
It’s not sexual. His palm travels down my spine as I blink awake. The touch is casual, like he’s petting a cat. But every nerve ending lights up in anticipation.
“Morning, lass.” His voice is rough from sleep. “Ready for today?”
Words feel too difficult, so I just nod.
He doesn’t pounce. That’s what surprises me most. We get up, and he makes eggs and bacon for breakfast while I pad around the kitchen naked because he commanded it. He’s relaxed and singing under his breath. Brushing against me when he reaches for the salt.
Each contact is brief, almost accidental. His hip against mine at the counter. Fingers grazing my lower back as he passes. A kiss dropped on my shoulder while I pour coffee. None of it is overtly sexual, but I’m hyperaware of every touch, every moment where he could reach for me and doesn’t.
By the time we finish eating, I’m wound tight, and he hasn’t really done anything.
“Help me with the laundry, pet.”
Following him to the laundry room, confusion flickers. This isn’t what I expected. But I fold towels while he loads the dryer, and every few minutes he checks on me. Not with words. With his hand between my thighs, pressing against my pussy for just a moment before pulling away.
“Already wet.” His voice is mild, like he’s commenting on the weather. “And I’ve barely touched you.”
A whimper escapes me, hips chasing his retreating hand. “Leo, please…”
