It’s exhilarating.
I know I tend to lean toward the submissive side of the spectrum, at least with Julian, so when Kai tells me what to do—his voice low, steady, and completely in control—it hits something deep within me. The way he looks at me, like he knows he’s in charge yet never once crosses the line into disrespect, is…reallyfucking hot. He’s somehow figured out the perfect balance that always leaves me breathless.
Authoritative yet not overbearing.
Firm but never cruel.
There’s something thrilling about testing him, knowing that he’d never push past my comfort zone. I enjoy seeing that brief hint of irritation when I press against his boundaries.
He never lets it fully show—Kai is far too composed for that—but I can see it in the tightening of his jaw, the faint narrowing of his eyes. And Ilikeit. I enjoy the challenge, the game of seeing how far I can go before he quietly but firmly puts me back in my place.
With Julian, it’s different. I don’t normally act this playful with him; our dynamic has its own rhythm, one that’s softer, more reverent. Julian looks at me like I’m something to be cherished, and while I love that—I need that—this thing with Kai is its own brand of intoxicating. Kai doesn’t just cherish; he challenges. He meets my resistance head-on, countering my every move with a calm smirk that tells me he’s already thought three steps ahead. It’s maddening, and yet it pulls me in, makes me want to push even harder just to see how he’ll handle it.
It was the same during the renovations, when Kai was around every day, overseeing every detail with that infuriating, self-assured competence. Our banter back then was sharp and quick, always laced with a hint of flirtation, though neither of us dared to acknowledge it aloud. It felt safe to play with him, to poke at that steady, unshakable demeanor, knowing he could take it without missing a beat. That camaraderie, it’s different from what I have with Julian, and I realize now it’s carried over intothis, into the bedroom.
I shouldn’t be surprised that Kai’s control feels as natural here as it did back then, though now it’s layered with a heat and burning passion that leaves me reeling. Even as I push back, as I tease and challenge him, I know exactly how this will end. Kai will take every ounce of my resistance in stride. He’ll let me push—maybe even enjoy watching me squirm—but ultimately, he’ll take the reins and remind me exactly who’s in charge.
And I’ll love it. Every second of it.
“May I stand?” I ask, my voice low and sultry, almost challenging but not crossing the line of disobedience.
“You may,” Kai says, a hint of amusement in his tone. “Thank you for asking.”
Biting my tongue, I stand up and take my boots off. Then I pull the dress down my body. I’m only clad in my bra and knickers, as well as my tights, and Kai’s eyes rove freely down my exposed abdomen.
“Fuck,” he utters, sighing as he looks back up at my face. My cheeks heat, but he steps forward and places his hands on my hips. “You’re perfect.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
Using this opportunity, I look over my shoulder at Julian, and what I see makes me inhale sharply.
He’s leaning back in the chair, and instead of watching us like he normally does… his hand is palming his very obvious erectionover his trousers. He gives me a slow, lazy smile as he continues, and then he gestures for us to keep going.
I swallow.
Julian never touches himself—it’s hisonerule. Once they leave, it’s fair game—but he’s never involved in this way.
The thought of my husband being too aroused to keep from touching himself makes me want this even more.
“How would you like me, Father?”
Kai’s eyes darken as he studies me, and then he walks around me to his bedside table. Opening it slowly, he pulls out a black, leather book, and as my eyes take in the gold cross on the cover, a shiver works through me.
“I’d like you to recite a few passages from the Bible,” he says.
My lips part, and I take the book from him as my pulse speeds up. I’ve never done anything like this, but… I was raised Catholic. Julian and I don’t practice any sort of religion, but there’s something deeply taboo about playing with religion like this.
I squeeze my thighs together as I flip the book open.
“On your knees, little dove.”
Fuck.
That nickname is going to be the death of me.
I bend down to my knees, and my thighs rest on top of my heels. When I look up, he’s watching me with one hand rubbing his mouth.
“Is there a specific passage you’d like me to recite?” I ask.
