Hansel 1(17)

A few seconds later, there’s a knock on the door.

“Just a minute.”

I smear lip gloss on my lips—watermelon, still my favorite—and walk out with my clothes in the little bag, feeling about as self-conscious as I did at my last OB appointment.

“See that door?” he asks me, pointing to a glossy wooden door across the well-appointed living room. “Knock three times and wait for him to let you in.”

I knock, and start to tremble as I stand there at his door. Seconds later, I hear his low voice say, “Come in.”

I can barely walk without falling down as I step into a room with an enormous king-sized bed, covered with crimson silk. He’s propped up on a mountain of pillows, wearing nothing.

He’s…so beautiful.

Dark hair, tanned skin, dark-lashed hazel eyes. One look into his eyes and I start sucking my breaths back.

“Do you have an anxiety problem?” he says flatly.

Tears spring up in my eyes. Oh, Hansel. Somehow, I shake my head.

“Are you sure?” he says.

I nod.

“Why did you come here?” He spreads his legs a little and wraps his big, familiar hand around his shaft.

My voice trembles as I tell him, “I wanted…a shot at being…” deep breath, “your submissive.”

His eyes narrow a little, and I wonder at first if he recognizes my voice. He would know it better than most, having interacted with me so much when he couldn’t see my face.

“You’re a trained submissive?”

I lick my lips. “I-I’m not sure. I guess…well, no. I don’t have a certificate or anything.”

I freeze, my heart throbbing, waiting for him to recognize me. To call me out. To get up off the bed and run to me.

How could he not know me, even in this outfit?

He leans back a little on his pillows, and I notice he’s not actually naked. He’s wearing a blue silk robe that matches my clothes.

“Come here,” he tells me as he shifts so he’s sitting with his muscular legs hanging off the bed.

I walk over to him. Stop there beside him, looking up at the face I barely knew, although I know the soul behind it better than almost anyone. Tears start to fill my eyes. My lungs forget to breathe.

Snapshot: one dark wave, falling over a hazel eye.

His hand comes up under my chin, stroking the skin there until a fine shiver covers my whole body. I suck back a breath and lick my lips again.

“Look at me,” he says.

His fingers press into the bottom of my chin, tilting my face so our eyes meet.

I start to tremble harder.

I press my lips together, because I’m not entirely sure I can keep myself from whispering his name.

How many times did I look into these eyes? I know the yellow flecks in his hazel irises so well, looking at them feels like coming home.

How long have I waited to see him again?

How much have I wanted it?

My mouth opens of its own accord. Words line up on my tongue. They are desperate to fall out, just as my hands—lax, by my side—are desperate to reach up and touch the hardness of his chest. The dark wave of his hair.

He drops my chin and frowns slightly.

One word dives off. “Please…”



*



Lucas



Looking down on her from my perch on the side of the mattress, I cock one eyebrow in a light challenge. “Please what?”

Her lower lip catches in between her teeth. She quickly lets it go and rubs those moist, pink lips together.

This fifth girl, with her mask covering her face so perfectly, and her body clad so nicely in my clothes, is making my dick hard. It throbs against my belly, standing straight up for her, begging for her small, smooth hands.

She seems exactly the right size. Right height. She’s got a nice, lyrical voice the way my Leah did. I wonder idly if she can sing before her lips part once more.

She shuts them, to my disappointment. “Nothing,” she whispers, with a little shake of her head.

I stroke down her arm and take her hand. “Come up on the bed with me.”

Rather than wait for her to climb up, I close my hands around her waist and lift her onto the silky duvet.

“Kneel,” I order.

I watch her hands tremble as she kneels in front of me. I can feel my lips tuck up into a small smile.

“Very nice,” I tell her. “Now lie down.”

She holds my gaze for a moment, as if she wants to ask me how, but she doesn’t. Instead, she lies on her back with her pretty legs together and her arms by her sides.

Damn, she’s perfect. Her arms are lean and lightly muscled, the skin of them soft and lightly tanned. Something about the shape reminds me of Leah’s.

My dick pounds.

I spread her knees apart and move between her legs. The trembling I saw before is rampant now, as I bring my hungry mouth down on her cunt.