Page 55 of Long for Me
Chapter Eighteen
Bennett
I left Rebecca in the bathroom and went to my closet. I left off the boxers and threw on a pair of sweats, despite the raging hard-on I was sporting. Boxers would only be uncomfortable considering my dick was in a perpetual state ofready-to-gowith Rebecca near. I threw on a black shirt and grabbed one of my favorite dress shirts from the hanger.
I wanted Rebecca in it, so I could remember her and think of her every time I wore it to the office. God damn she was beautiful. When she let herself go, when she was relaxed and in my arms, beneath my hands, she was sublime. Nothing turned me on faster than a woman with confidence and intelligence tempered with an underlying current of sexual awareness.
Rebecca carried it all in spades. Her vulnerabilities made everything she gave me sweeter. Staring at my dick like she craved a taste of me deep inside her throat made me want to orgasm all over the bathroom floor.
The woman was going to be the death of my dick with the way she turned me on every time she glanced my way.
It made the idea of taming her while building her up with my future plans that much more enticing.
I waited outside the bathroom until I heard the water turn off. Without knocking, I opened the door.
Rebecca was at the counter, drying off her face with a towel. I placed my shirt on the countertop and stepped back.
“You can wear that,” I gestured toward the shirt. “And nothing else. I’ll be in the living room when you’re done.”
Her eyes popped and then narrowed as she glared at the shirt. “You mean—”
“No panties. I want you available to me whenever I want you.”
Her breath hitched and cheeks flushed. My dick twitched and I grabbed it, my desire for her obvious in the clutch of my fist.
Before she could say anything, I turned and left my bedroom. She could argue all she wanted but unless I heard yellow, which I’d remind her she had the ability to say at any time, then my rules were law as long as she was under contract.
For three months, I was free to do whatever I wanted with her, whenever I wanted, yet, she had all the power in two words. It was the beautiful part of submission. The power exchange between me and my sub rendered me with the sense of responsibility and control I craved, while it reminded me to treasure the woman in my care. I wasn’t a hard-ass Dom like people assumed, typically because I could be an asshole and my size.
Dominating and submitting, to me, was always wrapped in putting someone else’s needs ahead of yours. It was selflessly caring for someone, because in the end, I couldn’t expect anything. At any time, Rebecca could walk up to me, call red, and I’d have no other recourse than to let her go.
It meant my primary motivation was to keep her so blissed out on orgasms and feeling so treasured that the word never entered her mind. It was something I took seriously and why playing recreationally wasn’t my favorite thing in the world. It was why I searched for subs who wanted something long-term.
I wanted that. I wanted a marriage with a wife and sub who was undeniably and unendingly devoted to me and whatever family we would someday create. Whether Rebecca was the woman for me or not was yet to be seen.
But she did possess more of what I wanted than any woman I’d met yet.
I walked into the living room with my wine in one hand and my phone in another, quickly flipping through a series of missed call notifications I’d missed while we were in the bathroom.
There were two missed calls and voicemails from Anderson Jakobs.
“Fuck.” With his constant indecision, Jakobs was becoming one of my biggest pains in the ass. After last week’s meeting and Rebecca’s ability to finesse it, I’d been hoping it was the last we heard from him until after the board meeting.
“Everything okay?” Rebecca asked. She was resting against the doorframe, my shirt draping almost to her knees, and only two buttons closed, giving me a delicious, erection-sprouting view of her creamy, toned stomach, naval, and pussy. She sipped from the wine glass I’d left in the bathroom.
Fucking hell.
“Come here.” I took a large drink of my wine and set it back on the table, pushing the heavy wood table forward as she reached the couch. “Kneel.” I pointed next to my side at my feet.
“What?” I arched a brow and waited. She blinked and looked at the floor before meeting my gaze. “You want me to kneel at your feet?”
I leaned forward and ran my hand up the back of her thigh until I was cupping her ass. “Yeah, sub. I do.”
Perhaps the reminder of who she was to me would put her in the right head space.
Her legs trembled beneath my touch. She puffed out a breath and nodded. “Okay, sir.”
“Good girl,” I murmured. My hand fell from her leg as she sank to her knees. The vision of her, barely dressed in only my shirt and at my feet, sent my mind spinning. “Beautiful. Need me to refill your drink?”
