The cottage is lovely, and I’m rolling, so it feels almost magical. He puts toothpaste on his toothbrush while I lean against the wall and watch.
“Have you been here for long?”
“Nyet. It’s a short-term rental. I’m passing through town.” He hands me the toothbrush.
“What do you do?”
“I work in shipping.”
I nod, not really absorbing his answer because I now have a close up view of his chest. It’s as well-defined as I’d suspected. Since I have no filters at the moment–not that I have many when I’m sober–I let my fingertips slip under his black t-shirt to feel his skin.
He watches me darkly. No sign of approval. “Brush your teeth,” he tells me.
My pussy clenches at the bossy command. I just might get spanked tonight! It’s looking good for me. I grin and start brushing.
He stands at the granite counter watching me, even though the normal thing to do would be to offer me some privacy in case I have to pee or something.
I finish brushing and rinse my mouth out. “Much better. Are you going to let me touch you now?”
His brows pop like he finds my request unexpected.
I bunch his shirt up in my fist and try to pull him closer, but he catches my wrist. “You like to be in charge, Kat?”
Several things hit me at once. One is the visceral reaction to his touch–the flush of heat, the desire to feel even more of that controlling strength. Then there’s the stern tone–it makes my knees weak. But also, he said my name.
“What did you call me?”
Nothing changes in his face. It feels like he takes him a long time to answer, but time gets wonky when you’re rolling. “What is your name? I thought that mudak at the rave called you Kat?”
Oh, right. That makes sense. I bob my head in agreement. “Kateryna. Kat. Kit-Kat. What’s your name?”
He locks eyes with me like it’s important. “Adrian.” Still holding my wrists, he propels me backward out the bathroom door and into the tiny bedroom / living room combo. “You haven’t answered any of my questions, dietka.”
“I forgot what they were.” I’m breathless. Horny. Madly in love. But that’s the molly talking.
“I asked if you like to be in charge.”
“I am in charge,” I sass him, shaking my hands free to put them on my hips. It’s true–I hold the power until I choose to surrender it. That’s what I told Delaney when she questioned my taste in sexual encounters.
He frowns. “I should have gagged you from the start,” he says, but he doesn’t move to overpower me. I still get the feeling he’s watching for my reaction to his words.
I giggle and attempt to slide both my hands up his shirt again. “Maybe you should try,” I purr.
He spins me around and claps a hand over my mouth, yanking my body against his.
I squeal my thrill against his hand.
“Like this, dietka? You like a little struggle? Hmm. Do you want to be overpowered?”
I wrestle him.
He brings his lips to my ear. “I need a real answer.” His tone is stern. “Yes or no.” He lifts his fingers partway off my mouth.
“Yes.”
“Yes, you want me to take charge?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Don’t call me Daddy.”
I turn around to face him again. “Should I call you sir?”
“Not that, either. On your knees.”
I almost orgasm from the command. I love his accent–it somehow makes him sound grumpier. Sensations are so heightened right now, I’m two strokes away from a full-body climax.
I drop to my knees and quickly work the button on his jeans. He settles one hand behind my head in a cradling way that gets me even more excited. I free his erection and take his thick length into my mouth. I wish I had more finesse, but I’m a little sloppy in general right now. Hopefully, I’ll make up for it with enthusiasm. I suction my lips around the head of his dick, tasting a drop of his salty essence.
“Yum,” I say, popping off.
I bring my free hand between my legs because I need to come so badly.
Adrian’s eyes darken, and his fingers tighten around my head, driving me forward over his cock again. “Good girl.”
Good girl! My nipples tighten in my blouse. The words are magical to me. All I ever wanted to be called, despite my efforts at playing the bad girl.
I bob over his cock, in and out, taking him right to the back of my throat every time, sucking hard, swirling my tongue on the underside. I shove my fingers inside my panties to stroke my own flesh.
I must get too enthusiastic because he grunts, “Careful with the teeth.”
“Sorry,” I gasp. “Sor–”
He interrupts my apology by putting his cock back in my mouth. His grip at the base of my skull is firm without being rough. Controlling without inciting resistance. I really, really like this guy.
I don’t think it’s just the molly talking. He feels like a match. The fulfillment to all my fantasies of being dominated.
I give the blowjob my all. Even though I’m really turned on, I can’t quite make him get to the finish line. That’s how it is with ecstasy though. You’re already so happy, it’s hard to make the explosion go off. Not that I’m a huge user. This is my fourth time ever, and I’ve been on the party scene since I was fifteen.
I sit back on my heels, losing focus.
“You okay?” Adrian strokes the pad of his thumb down my cheek.
“Yeah. Just thirsty.”
And that’s when I know he’s the right guy. Because he puts his erection away–as painful as it must be–he shoves it back in his pants and zips up–and goes to get me water.
I kick off my shoes and sit cross-legged on his bed where he brings me a filled glass.