“Ian, you’re not getting one, not today. I did what I thought was right. Sometimes you’re going to have to bite the bullet and trust other people’s judgment, particularly mine. I know it’s difficult for you but if you stay with me, you’ll learn. Now forget the thank-you and just do me already.”
He turns her around and pushes her down on her knees with her chest resting on the bed, one hand still holding her hair. He doesn’t want to let go: he wants her to feel the unbroken connection until she comes, so he fumbles with his fly with his free hand, jerking his pants down only far enough to liberate his rock-hard erection. He reaches around and finds her breast, massaging it and tugging her nipple just to the point of gentle pain, as he uses his knee to spread her legs wider. “Don’t move, Ella. Stay perfectly still,” he orders as he thrusts inside her. He reaches around to massage her in front in counterpoint to his thrusts, kissing her neck up and down.
“Don’t come.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Ian, I can’t.”
“If you come, I’ll spank you again.”
He flips Ella around to watch her face as she struggles to stave off her orgasm but ultimately she can’t hold it any more and with a throaty scream, she climaxes.
“Oh, Ella, you disobeyed me.” He lifts her leg and swiftly swats her sore backside once and then thrusts into her ferociously and she comes again, a look of utter astonishment on her face. At that point, he lets himself go too, unable to hold back a moment longer, and collapses, spent, on top of her.
“Will you marry me, Ariel?”
“You have got to be kidding me, Ian,” she says breathlessly. “Ask me again when we’re dressed and you’re on bended knee and I’ll consider it.”
She pushes him off her and rolls over on the bed, pulling the coverlet back and scooting underneath. Her back now to him, she turns her head enough for him to hear her next words. “Until then, I’m taking a nap. You can wake me when you get home from work.”
When no response comes, she turns around and sees him standing there, his clothes now set to rights, just staring at her. She can’t read the emotion swirling around in the depths. Is it confusion? She just can’t tell.
She rises to her knees, crawls over and circles her arms around his neck, kissing him gently. The kiss speaks volumes: he knows in his bones that she loves him as much as he loves her.
Chapter 36
When I wake from my nap, it’s dark out and the room is shrouded in dusky shadows. At first I panic, disoriented. Familiarity breeds comfort and I soon realize I’m in Ian’s bedroom. Instantly I calm, and check the time. Six thirty. Is Ian home yet? I asked him to wake me when he got home.
Stretching my body as far as I can, I feel so good: boneless—all sinew and muscle. Sex with Ian has that opiate effect on me. True, he went all Neanderthal on my ass—literally—and I allowed him to. It’s only taken me a year and change but I think I’ve finally figured him out: I now understand that when he’s stressed out and/or having problems at work, his dominance emerges big time.
When I first met him and he showed me his dungeon, I was horrified and intrigued in equal measure. Horrified because… well, that reaction probably doesn’t need explanation. Intrigued, because I’ve always been adventurous and since I kept my sexuality bridled for so long, it was almost inevitable that I’d become a wild child, at least for a little bit, when I finally let loose.
But with Ian and his proclivities, I assumed it was part of his innate sexuality, an alpha-male need to dominate everyone around him, and a raging libido that required exotic measures to quiet. Perhaps that got my back up a bit, at least in the beginning, especially when he took a whip to me.
Now? Now I realize it’s not his innate sexuality, per se. He’s cultivated this kind of sexual behavior to make sense of his world and his place in it. It’s as if he uses sexual dominance to bring order to his world when his control is slipping in other areas of his life. In essence, he uses it as a coping mechanism. That revelation has allowed me to indulge him a little bit more, to feel less guilty that I’m caving in to his violent and macho tendencies.
I’ve also realized something about myself too and it was a difficult revelation to swallow: I definitely do get highly aroused when he sexually dominates me—sexually being the operative word. It seems a strange disposition for someone like me because I think of myself as a strong and even forceful personality at times. Despite my strength of character or perhaps because of it, I enjoy relinquishing control to Ian when we are intimate. It’s the ultimate fantasy of the strong male stealing and carrying off the female to ravage—a kind of Bedouin harem fantasy thing—and Ian never forces it on me, always checking to ensure that I want him to continue. It’s a game, a dance almost, where he leads and I can choose to either follow or not.