Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Marsh stands, goes back to the sink, and wets new towels.
“Don’t sit on the floor, please. It’s dirty.”
“Oh God. I showed you my hole” is how I reply, doing the opposite of what he said by plopping down to the linoleum and leaning against the wall.
He sighs, comes over, and begins wiping my forehead again.
You’re good at this…
I have to fight the words not to come out, and then I’m pissed at myself because of who he is.
“You lied,” he accuses.
“It’s only three years. I could tell you were unsure about my age.”
“It doesn’t matter if it’s only three years. This is about honesty. The kind of relationship you’re looking for doesn’t work without it.”
I roll my eyes…then see his fingers twitch like his urge to discipline me is almost too hard to control. Blood rushes to my groin again.
Christ, I need to do something about my reaction to him. The truth is, if he wasn’t my dad’s best friend, Marsh would be exactly who I want. There’s never been any denying that he’s an attractive man, but add in that he’s a Dom? That he’s older, sexy, caring… No. Stop that.
“Does Dad know about you?”
“Yes. It’s something we don’t talk about.”
Nausea twists my stomach. “Because he disapproves. He thinks it’s wrong. God, knowing him, he thinks it’s abuse.” Even though my dad is the best kind of person, one who would give you the shirt off his back, he tends to judge things he doesn’t understand. I can see him thinking any kind of impact play is wrong. He would never get why someone could crave that, why I would.
“It doesn’t matter what he thinks. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.”
“Christ.” I run a hand through my hair. “He does think it’s abuse, doesn’t he?”
“It doesn’t matter what he thinks,” Marsh reiterates. “You’re an adult and allowed to want the things you want. To need the things you need. Like I told you before, no one else has to understand. What you do is no one else’s business.”
But Dad doesn’t understand. There’s no question about that, and I don’t care…but I do. Marsh isn’t telling me anything I didn’t know, anything I didn’t assume. My dad and I already have a confusing relationship, so I don’t know why I’m letting this get to me so much. “Are you going to tell him about me?”
“No. God no. I would never do that to you. You and I didn’t know.” Marsh paces the bathroom, something I’ve never seen him do. “Now we know, so we’ll stop.”
An unexpected pang makes my gut clench.
Holy shit. I don’t want to stop. I still want the things Sir promised me, and I don’t care if Sir is Marsh. I mean, it would be easier if he wasn’t, but then…I trust him. I know him. Maybe a part of me sensed that connection talking to him online and that’s why I felt bonded to him so quickly. My subconscious knew something I didn’t. Marsh would take care of me in ways other Doms wouldn’t because of who we are to each other. “What if I don’t want to stop?”
He whips his head in my direction, jaw tight. “You nearly vomited when you saw it was me.”
“Not because I’m not attracted to you. Fuck, you’re hot, Marsh. You’ve always been hot. I freaked out because I was shocked and scared. But now…what if—”
“No. I’m not doing this with you.”
His answer hits my insecurities, like something rough scratching all my tender spots. “Why? You said I’m an adult, that it doesn’t matter if other people understand or approve. You wanted me. You liked what we did together…you liked being my Sir.”
“That’s enough!” he says, voice raised and nearly vibrating the walls. He’s not the type to get angry, at least not that I’ve seen. This is the maddest I’ve ever heard him. Still, it doesn’t stop me from pushing.
“It’s just sex.”
He doesn’t answer but walks over and pulls me to my feet. I let him. His pupils are still too wide, jaw clenched. His dark stubble looks so scratchy, and I can’t help wondering how it would feel against my skin. He smells like some kind of dark amber that invades my senses.
Marsh pulls me to the sink, turns on the water, and pushes my hands beneath it. Okay, clearly, he’s not as turned on as I am. He soaps them next, and my knees go weak. My thoughts settle as it clicks into place what’s happening. “You’re taking care of me right now. You want to. I want you to.” My gaze travels down his body. “You’re hard.”
And yep, I continue to plump up too. This could work. This is perfect. It would be no-strings-attached scenes. He wants a long-term sub and nothing serious, and I want more experience in the lifestyle. It makes sense. It’s wild how I could spend my whole life not seeing Marsh as a sexual being—and I know he never did with me either—yet a month of talking anonymously has flipped a switch I’m not sure I can turn off.