Convincing Leah by Becca Jameson

Chapter 3

Leah

I’m nervous about tonight. It’s unnecessary. Since when do I get nervous about having sex? Never. Granted I don’t usually plan it like this, and it’s been a while since I’ve had sex, and I’m worried about the implications of this connection.

Craig is smoking hot. Six-two with dark hair that hasn’t started turning gray yet. He keeps the top short, but the part that makes my heart race is the scruffy-groomed beard and mustache.

I’m sure every woman he encounters does a double take and wishes they could have a piece of him. The fact that he has singled me out and spends time with me makes me feel special. Can’t lie about that. What worries me is what having sex with me means to him.

I know he wants more from me. More than I can give. I’m clear his tastes lean toward a type of kink I’m not interested in. I have a constant underlying fear that he’s hoping I’ll come around, change my mind, see his way of thinking.

I won’t. I just…can’t. His way scares the hell out of me. I’m not a little. It’s not in my genes.

So, yeah. I’m nervous. I want Craig to fuck me clear into tomorrow, but what are the implications? I’m concerned about how he might feel afterward. I’m concerned about how I might feel afterward too.

“You look fantastic,” Eve says as she steps out of a bathroom stall and finds me at the mirror. “Hot date?” she teases.

“Thanks.” I’m four inches taller than Eve barefoot, but when we’re at Surrender, I tower over her in my heels. She’s wearing a pink dress appropriate for someone about five years old heading to a birthday party. The smocking across the front makes me shudder. She never wears a bra when she’s in little attire—not that she needs one; neither of us does—but I can’t imagine spending the evening with that smocking rubbing against my nipples. Eve tells me that’s the point.

As usual, she also has on flats. Tonight, they are pink ballet slippers, and she’s wearing white frilly ankle socks. Her hair is in two braids behind her ears. I know she feels comfortable in her little apparel because the transformation to her expression is amazing every time she changes. Her face is lit up like she really is going to a birthday party, and it’s hers.

She reaches for my white leather skirt and smooths her hand over my hip in a way only best friends would do. “When did you get this new skirt?”

“I went shopping this week.” I look down at the skirt that barely covers my ass and then tug on the dark purple corset to get my boobs to push up higher.

“Special occasion?” she jokes.

“Yep.”

Her eyes light up before she glances around to confirm we are alone in the locker room. “You’re going to have sex with him, aren’t you?”

I wince. “I think so. Yes. Do you think I’m making a mistake? Leading him on or something?”

She shakes her head. “Not at all. He’s a big boy. Don’t be ridiculous. But I’m curious. Did you plan this? I mean, did you two discuss sex?”

I nod. “Yeah.” And then I shudder. It feels absurd now. “What the hell was I thinking?”

“That you’re horny and a fine-looking man who happens to be an impressive Dom wants you naked?”

“Oh, right. That.” I force a smile. “I sort of instigated it. I feel like a heel. I’m totally leading him on.”

Eve shakes her head again. “Leah, stop it. You’re not. He knows the stakes. You’ve made it perfectly clear many times. If he still thinks he can convince you to try age play, that’s his problem, not yours.”

I nod slowly. She’s right.

Eve giggles and spins around in a circle, causing her skirt to flare out so far that I can see her pink panties. Almost all of her dresses are cut like this. She calls them twirl dresses. They make her happy.

I can’t help but smile at her. She has found her niche in life. She loves spending about half her time living as a much younger girl. It suits her, and it’s infectious. What’s impressive is that she spends the other half of her time in corporate America wearing pencil skirts and heels. She’s formidable in that persona. She’s happy. That’s all that matters. I’m so glad she found Colton.

I also enjoy kink, but I’m certain I don’t look as excited as Eve when I change into my fetish wear. I feel…oddly in command, I guess. Maybe that’s incongruent since I’m a sub, but I work from home. My working attire involves yoga pants and workout shirts. Some weeks the only time I get dressed is when I come to the club.

People notice me. I’m aware of that. I like it. Most of them have no idea what I do for a profession, and I like that too. I don’t advertise that I’m a writer. I keep that side of my life very private. It’s a cruel world out there. I’d rather remain anonymous.

I smooth my hands down my new skirt one more time and then glance at Eve’s. “I’m not sure which one of us wears the shorter skirts.”

She giggles and takes my hand. “Let’s get out there.”

“I don’t know why you’re so excited. You’re going to daycare. I’m going to wander around and get aroused watching other people play before it’s my turn.”

She giggles again. “You’re missing out. Daycare is also arousing.”

I don’t respond. This banter we engage in helps me keep my walls up. Everyone in the club knows I’m not into age play. And it’s true. I’m not. But that doesn’t mean I don’t understand it. I do. More than most people probably.

I may tease Eve mercilessly in good fun, but I can grasp why she enjoys the scene. It’s not for me, but I admire her ability to let herself go and be completely carefree. When she slides into her little space and sheds her adult, her face changes.

Of that ability, I am jealous. Before she met Colton, it wasn’t as easy for her. She spent a great deal of time in her little space, but she couldn’t fully relax because no one was around to actually take care of her. A Daddy. Now that she has Colton to fill that role, she’s even more invested in age play.

No matter how envious I am of the fact that she’s able to live authentically, I have a deep-rooted sense of responsibility, a need to ensure that I can and will take care of myself. I don’t need someone else to do anything for me. I’m well aware that my upbringing caused me to be fiercely independent, but that’s just how I am. It’s how I’m wired.

Eve skips off toward the daycare while I wander into the main room with the intent of watching. I’ve been coming to Surrender for a long time. I’ve dabbled in several types of impact play. I enjoy a good flogging and sometimes a paddle. I like a slow build that leaves me deliciously achy. I like to be struck long enough and with enough pressure that I’m still wincing the next morning.

I don’t mind a few bruises. Blood is a definite no. Extreme pain that yanks me out of my headspace is also off-limits. Caning is not my thing. It’s too harsh and intense. A crop is okay as long as the Dom knows exactly what he’s doing and doesn’t strike too hard.

I’m particular. I choose my partners carefully. Usually, they are well-vetted by both me from observation and Surrender’s owners before I let anyone strike me.

Craig is an anomaly. The first time he asked me to do a scene with him, I hadn’t seen him perform a single time. I was taken aback. Master Roman was the one who vouched for him. The two of them go way back. I was leery and apprehensive, but I agreed for two reasons. One, Master Roman’s encouragement. And two, spanking was all I agreed to.

Turns out Craig almost always spanks me. It’s not hard to understand why. He has told me that he has plenty of training using other implements but it’s been a long time. He’s a Daddy. As a Daddy, he nearly always uses his palm to discipline. A paddle isn’t outside of his repertoire, but he hasn’t used one on me yet.

I don’t mind. It doesn’t matter much to me whether the Dom uses his hand, a flogger, or something else mild enough to keep me from running from the room. As long as I get the slow-growing burn from impact that eventually transforms into deep arousal that makes me beg for release, I’m golden.

Craig is the best spanker I’ve ever been with. That’s the main reason why I agreed to a second and then a third scene with him on subsequent nights. Eventually, we became an item of sorts. Some members might even think we are an actual item. It doesn’t matter. There are lots of members who come to the club and perform with the same people nearly every time. It’s not unusual.

We click. Craig was slightly rusty when we started scening together. He and his ex-wife divorced five years ago. After they split, he went to various clubs on occasion but not as often. In the last two years since he retired, he hasn’t been to Surrender or any other club.

No one would know he was rusty. Certainly not me. He took his time with me the first night, warming up as he called it, but that’s how I like it, and I told him so afterward.

There are a lot of Doms who rush things, increasing the pressure prematurely before I’ve fully wrapped my head around the space. That usually leaves me dissatisfied or ends up taking me longer to get where I want to be.

I know I’m an odd submissive. I negotiate every detail. As one should. But I know I have a quality that borders on dominant instead of submissive. In my head, I have a sense that I’m actually in charge. I get that the submissive holds the power. It’s more than that for me. Or maybe I just justify it somehow to permit myself to submit to anyone.

I think of it like a hired job. If I had a lawn, I would pay someone to mow it so I wouldn’t have to. If I need a plumber, I don’t dig around under the sink myself. I hire a plumber. Granted, I obviously don’t pay anyone at the club to spank me. But I feel like I hire them to help me slide into subspace. Impact play soothes me. It washes away my stress. Plus, there’s the bonus of an orgasm.

Not that I always orgasm when I play. It’s not mandatory. I don’t do it with Doms I’m not comfortable with. I would never negotiate it into a scene with a stranger. But once I get to know and trust someone, I like to include that benefit. It’s the entire package in my head.

Writing sometimes stresses me out. I get frustrated dealing with characters who won’t listen to me or scenes that won’t flush themselves out. Plus, there’s the administrative side of things. I’m not fond of the accounting and spreadsheets and formatting and social media. I do those things because they’re necessary, but those days leave me filled with anxiety.

That’s where impact play comes in. A means to an end. A Dom spanks me, my stress dissolves, maybe I get sexual release too, and boom, I’m ready to start fresh.

Does that make me submissive? Yes and no. It makes me complicated.

Today, I’m stressed mostly because I’ve made a new arrangement with Craig. We’ve never used a private room. We’ve never had sex. I’ve taken my time even suggesting we move to this new level. I hope I’m not making a mistake.

Two hands land on my shoulders and soft lips graze my ear, making me shudder and smile at the same time. I’m used to Craig sneaking up on me like this. He does so almost every time I see him. I’m not sure how he manages to ease into the room without my noticing, but I enjoy the way he greets me.

“Hey,” he breathes into my ear. “You look deep in thought. You okay?”

I twist my head around to meet his gaze. “Yep.”

He rubs his hands up and down my bare arms, bringing goosebumps to the surface. “I’m surprised to find you intently watching such harsh impact play tonight. You don’t usually gravitate toward a whip.”

I flinch. The honest truth is that I’ve been standing here for a while and I didn’t even notice the change from the flogging I was watching to this new couple using a whip.

My face flushes as I turn toward Craig and admit the truth. “I didn’t notice.”

He lifts a brow. “Wow. You are anxious tonight.” He clasps my biceps. “Nothing has to happen between us, Leah. If you’re having second thoughts, we don’t even have to use the private room. I don’t want you to feel stressed about taking things between us to another level. It shouldn’t be that way.”

I shake my head. “It’s not that. Not really. It’s more like I was feeling introspective. Pondering my preferences and what makes me tick.” I smile at him, hoping he will believe me.

He quirks up one corner of his mouth. “Did you solve any mysteries?”

I shake my head. “Nope. I’m still me.”

“We can have our room now if you want.”

“Sounds good.”

He slides his hands down my arms and threads the fingers of one hand with mine before leading me from the main room and down the hall toward the private rooms.

When we pass the nursery, I see Eve playing a board game with several other littles. Since she’s little all the time when she’s at home, she doesn’t need the club as a location to grab two hours with her Daddy. Colton is her Daddy all the time. Their time at the club is mostly spent separate from each other. Eve gets to enjoy the company of other littles playing and interacting in a way she can’t at home.

Colton, on the other hand, is new to the fetish community. He’s an amazing Daddy and has taken on the role she needs faster than anyone could have imagined, but he benefits from watching and learning from others. It’s a win-win for the two of them.

My mind has wandered again. I’m drawing in shallow breaths as Craig opens the door to our designated room. He locks it before turning toward me and sliding his hands up and down my arms. “Take a deep breath for me, sweetheart.”

I like it when he calls me that. He probably doesn’t know it, but it’s sort of a trigger word that brings me into the right headspace. Not in a bad way. “Yes, Sir,” I respond and do as I’m told. We’ve entered our space, which means it’s time for me to hand the reins to him.

“Good girl. Do it again.”

I draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly. It calms me.

He slides one hand to my face and cups my cheek, his thumb grazing over my bottom lip. This is the most intimate we’ve ever been. We don’t usually stand this close facing each other or cross into this level of familiarity before we scene.

“I’d like to kiss you before we start if that’s okay.”

I lick my lips, my tongue inadvertently stroking his thumb. “Yes, Sir.” Yikes. I’m in uncharted territory. I feel a shift in the air. I hadn’t thought about the fact that having sex with Craig would be any different than having sex with any other Dom. It is.

In the past when I’ve had sex at the club, it was to scratch an itch. For both of us. An obvious means to an end. When I’ve gotten comfortable with a Dom to move from spanking to orgasms, I logically move from there to trusting them enough to have sex with me. It’s not rocket science.

But this is different. This is…intimate. I’ve never started a scene by kissing. I’ve never kissed a man at the club.

Craig takes his time, watching me closely as he angles his head to one side and brings his lips to mine. He holds my face still, directing me. Guiding me.

When his lips brush against mine for the first time, my entire body responds. I lean into him without permission from my brain. My hands come to his waist and then spread to his back. My breasts feel larger, fuller, swollen. They are threatening to spill out of my corset.

I’m not opposed to being nude in the club. I’ve been spanked naked before, but not with Craig. He’s never removed my corset or whatever else I’ve worn over my chest.

Damn, his lips are amazing. The man can kiss. My heart is racing as he slides his tongue into my mouth and strokes my tongue against his. His free hand slides up my waist until his thumb grazes the underside of my breast. That small gesture makes me arch into him. A moan escapes my lips unbidden.

I’m in over my head. We’re crossing so many lines here. Not physical ones. Emotional ones. I should have known this might happen. Been more mentally prepared. I mean, I’ve been stressed for the last few days worrying about how it might be with him. Fearing this exact problem. That our obvious chemistry would in fact extend to the proverbial bedroom.

It’s much more than that. This is explosive. I’m in so much trouble.

When he finally breaks the kiss, he stares at me smiling. “Well, that backfired.”

I flinch.

He chuckles. “I just mean I had hoped to help you relax. That didn’t work.”

I shake my head. “No. It didn’t.”

“But not in a bad way, right?”

“No, Sir,” I admit. In a delicious way that makes me want him to skip the spanking and fuck me already, but I won’t admit that out loud. “Are we treading into dangerous territory?” I suggest instead. It’s the safe thing to say. Responsible.

“I don’t know.” At least he’s honest. “We’re just going to do a scene like we’ve done many times in the past. I don’t want you to think about adding anything to it. Just relax. If you’re feeling it, we can go ahead and take the next step. If you’re not, we won’t.”

I nod. “Okay.”

“I’d prefer to stick with my hand as our chosen impact implement tonight if that’s okay with you. I’d rather not complicate things by using a toy we’re less comfortable with.”

“Okay.” I can’t seem to come up with more words, and they aren’t really needed. He’s spelled it all out perfectly. I’m glad one of us can communicate verbally.

He takes my hand and leads me to the elaborate spanking bench in the middle of the room. This particular room is a deep burgundy, including the vinyl of the bench.

Craig stops at the end of the bench, holds my hips steady, and leans back to let his gaze roam up my frame from my feet to my head. “Love the new outfit. It’s very sexy. My cock got hard the moment I spotted you across the room when I arrived.”

I shiver at his tone and the fact that he’s gone out of his way to point out how much he appreciates my effort. “Thank you, Sir.” Those words feel inadequate and awkward after the second part of his admission, but I secretly love that I affect him like that. Who wouldn’t?

“You can wear this again when we do a public scene. It will make every man in the room jealous of my hands on you, but if you don’t mind, I’d rather take it off tonight.”

Another shudder. I’m out of my element. I don’t submit to other people the way I’m submitting to Craig. I don’t usually slide into this headspace before we’ve really started. Granted, we started this scene the moment his hands landed on my shoulders in the main room, and I fell under his spell the second his lips brushed against mine.

He has a power over me that I can’t explain.

“Leah, sweetheart, may I remove this sexy outfit?”

I realize I haven’t responded. “Yes, Sir.”

His hands come to the back of my skirt and he eases the zipper down, taking his time, keeping things slow and easy. His gaze doesn’t leave mine until he needs to bend down to pull the skirt down my thighs and off me.

I set my hands on his shoulders and lift my feet one at a time.

When he stands, he does so while dragging his palms up my inner legs from my ankles to my thighs.

I purse my lips to avoid moaning. I’m so aroused. This level of horniness usually occurs close to the end of a scene. Oh, who am I kidding? This level of arousal doesn’t occur with anyone at any time.

Craig slides his hands up my torso next. He holds my gaze again, his expression reverent. Serious. “I’ve seen your sexy rear many times. Handled it too, but I’ve only seen your breasts one time before, and they weren’t mine to touch that night.”

I remember the night. Craig has mentioned it several times. The first night he came to the club. The first time he saw me perform. I was with another member, Stephen. I was doing a scene for Colton’s benefit. I hadn’t known Craig was watching, nor had I ever seen him before.

I made an impression on Craig that night, and he made it his mission to seek me out after that.

The way he says mine makes me sway a bit. I’m mostly unnerved by the fact that I don’t mind. I want to be his. I know he doesn’t mean it in the sense that I belong to him in any permanent way. He just means that he wasn’t the man dominating me that night.

“Take it off, please, Sir,” I encourage, realizing as soon as the words leave my mouth that maybe I’m stepping over the line as a submissive.

He smiles though before rounding behind me and lowering the zipper that holds the corset in place. More goosebumps rise all over my torso as he lowers the stiff material away from my body.

He sets the corset on top of my skirt but stays behind me. In fact, he flattens himself to my back, pulling me against his chest. His palms flatten on my stomach, his fingers teasing my skin, grazing under my breasts again.

I’m so horny that my knees are wobbly. He’s fully clothed. I’m naked. I wasn’t even wearing a thong under my skirt. Now, I have on nothing but strappy silver heels.

Craig surprises me when he guides me to the end of the bench and then lifts me off my feet and lowers me onto my stomach over the padded top.

I purse my lips to keep from moaning. My inclination is to forgo the spanking and beg him to fuck me. Wetness is running between my thighs. My small breasts feel heavy. My nipples aren’t usually anything to write home about, but tonight they’re sharp points.

I often grow increasingly aware of my breasts during a scene, especially when I’m on all-fours like this with them hanging. I enjoy nipple play, so Doms in the past have usually stroked them either after stripping me naked or by reaching under the edge of my corset.

Craig hasn’t touched them yet, and once again I purse my lips to avoid begging. I want this like never before.

Craig strokes my skin everywhere but where I most crave his touch. His fingers smooth up and down my back and then my thighs and arms. His voice is husky when he speaks. “Do you mind if I restrain you tonight, Leah?”

“No, Sir.” He has restrained me in the past. I enjoy it. With some Doms, I’m comfortable enough to let them bind me. With others, I’m not. With Craig, hell yes.

The moment he cuffs my wrists in a Velcro enclosure and then attaches it out of reach below the padded armrest, I slide into a deeper level of submission that increases as he adds my other wrist and then my ankles.

I’m panting as I close my eyes and go into my head. I’m on all-fours, suspended above the floor. My knees and forearms are resting on padded sections of the bench. The large section rests under my torso, but it’s narrow enough at my chest that my breasts are free.

“Your skin is so soft,” Craig praises as his fingers drive me bananas again. Eventually, he stops circling me and stands at my side, his palm on my butt. “Safeword, sweetheart?”

“Red, Sir.” I swallow. He doesn’t usually remind me of my safewords. I’ve never needed a safeword with him. I know he won’t do anything I can’t handle. But it’s wise of him tonight. I’m in an unusual space. He knows it.

“Yellow if you need a break, okay?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I’m going to take my time, Leah. I want you to ache for release by the time I’m done.”

I bite the inside of my cheek at his words. I already ache for release. I’m going to detonate.

Even with my eyes closed, I sense him leaning into me and I blink when his lips brush against my ear. “Yellow if you get too close to orgasm. You don’t have permission to come until I say so.”

I gasp. My heart is racing. No one has ever told me not to come. I squirm, testing my restraints.

“You’re already at yellow, aren’t you, sweetheart?” His words are breathy and so close to my ear.

“Yes, Sir,” I whisper.

“Repeat my instructions so I’ll know you heard me.”

I lick my lips. “I won’t come without permission, Sir.”

“Good girl.” His Daddy comes out when he calls me that, but I don’t mind. I want to be his good girl. I’m not sure I can follow his order, but I’m going to try.

He steadies me with a palm on the small of my back. The first swat makes me jump. It’s barely noticeable but I’m edgy. The second lands on the other cheek. I close my eyes again and let my mind slip into that delicious place they call subspace. A place where none of my worries or problems exist. A place where I can turn myself over to someone and experience total bliss.

He spanks me several more times, slowly increasing the pressure, moving his hand around to cover every inch of my skin. When he pauses to rub my heated cheeks, he leans over and kisses each of them too. “You have no idea how sexy your little bottom is all hot and heated like this.”

I whimper. His word choice once again tugs me toward a place he’s more accustomed to than me. I am small. That’s a fact I can’t escape. In addition, Craig is so tall and broad that he makes me look and feel even smaller. He’s not wrong that my butt is little. But that’s not the way he means that word. His Daddy is slipping in when he says bottom instead of butt or ass or any number of other choices he could have made.

“May I continue, sweetheart?”

“Yes, Sir,” I murmur. For a moment, I wonder what Eve or any other little feels like when they submit to a Daddy. It’s times like this that I get a glimpse of their preferred kink. It’s not a big deal. It’s still a form of submission.

Craig resumes spanking me, but when I gasp and clench my butt cheeks, he stops again, rubbing my skin. “Don’t forget my rule, sweetheart. It seems like your naughty little body is a bit too close to the edge.”

I shudder. Why on earth am I reacting to him like this? Something in our dynamic shifts.

“Deep breaths, Leah.”

I’m unnerved by the fact that he’s called me naughty. I’m not naughty. I’m a good girl. I inhale long and slow, blowing it out just as slowly, so he will see that I can follow directions.

“Good girl. I’m going to spank you harder now. Concentrate on my palm on your bottom. Concentrate on the slow burn.”

I hold my breath when he resumes, trying to do as he instructed. I clench my pussy. The only reason I’m not writhing from an intense orgasm is that he hasn’t touched my pussy a single time. He hasn’t touched my nipples either. If he did either of those, I would probably shoot off like a rocket.

God, I love this feeling. The sting from each slap, the burn that grows and grows as he swats the same reddened spots over and over again. The release I get is huge. It’s like there’s a tight rubber band inside me and it’s going to snap.

Normally that snap can happen from the spanking alone. It doesn’t have to include an orgasm. It can be a simple release I get from enduring the growing burn until I cry out. But it’s so much sweeter when I know there will be another level of physical release at the end.

In my head, I’m begging him to touch my pussy. A simple stroke would be enough to push me over the edge.

He’s smart though. He knows this. He’s not going to touch me until he decides to give me permission to come.

His spanking moves to the backs of my thighs, making me writhe with increased need. The vibrations shoot to my clit.

“Yellow,” I shout as my legs start to quiver.

He stops, his hand rubbing my heated skin. “Good girl. Control the need.”

I’m panting. “Sir…”

“I know, sweetheart. But not yet. I want to take you a little higher. Can you do that for me?”

I nod against the bench.

“May I continue?”

“Yes, Sir.” My voice is weak with uncertainty. I want to please him though. I want to hold off because it will be so much sweeter and more powerful if I do.

He spanks me again. My skin is on fire. A delicious burn that brings all my emotions to the surface. He’s reached that cleansing moment when I’m able to let my daily anxieties wash away and concentrate on the sting.

He knows how to play my body well. He’s done this enough times that he knows the signs that indicate I’m right there. Any more will be too much. He stops, rounding to stand between my legs. His palms rub up and down my thighs, his thumbs skimming my sensitive skin every time he gets closer and closer to my pussy.

I’m dripping wet. My lower lips feel swollen. My clit is pulsing.

His hands come to my hips next, making me whimper from the loss of contact so close to where I need him to touch me. Instead, he slides his palms up to my breasts. He cups them gently and thumbs my nipples.

“Sir…” I warn. It feels so good. So damn good. I think I could come if he continued touching my stiff buds.

“I want to thrust my cock into you and make you come from the first stroke,” he says.

“Please, Sir.” I want this too. God, I want it.

His hands disappear, and I tremble as I listen to him lowering the zipper on his pants and then the sound of a condom wrapper. When his hand comes back to my hip, his other hand guides his cock to my entrance. “Your pussy is going to push me over the edge quickly, Leah. I apologize in advance.”

I don’t care. I’m going to beat him to the finish line no matter what. Besides, it’s not a race. He can win if he wants. He can have anything he wants as long as he fucks me.

“Leah, is this what you want? My cock in your tight warmth?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You know you can say no to me at any time, right?”

“Yes. Please, Craig.” I’m whimpering now. “Please fuck me.”

He thrusts all the way to the hilt, his fingers finding my clit and pinching it at the same moment.

I lift my head off the padded bench, arch my back, and scream out my release. The most powerful orgasm I’ve ever experienced slams into me, taking over my body, sending me into spasms.

“Fuck,” he mumbles as he pulls partway out and thrusts back in again. “Jesus, Leah. So tight.” It’s hard to focus on his words with my ears ringing and my body shaking from my orgasm, but his voice is so sexy and powerful that I hear him over my own release.

He rubs my clit rapidly, keeping me in a prolonged state of bliss that pushes one orgasm into two. He groans deeply and stiffens, his cock buried as far as it will go. When he comes, the sound he makes is fucking hot. My heart clenches.

I’m so totally his. In every imaginable way.

And yet, alarm bells go off in my head. I can’t be his. It’s not an option. This was supposed to be casual sex. It can’t be more. We don’t have the same goals.