She was his like this. Hers only to offer, but his to take, to use, to give only what he wished and have anything he wanted.
She was not allowed to come. He’d told her that when they started, and he was pushing her, testing her, training her in a way she knew that when they got down to serious playing, her endurance had to be at a point she could take whatever he wished to give.
So that night she’d already held it through him eating her, spending so much time on her nipples, it was beautiful torture, and now this …
Having him, his cock, his power, knowing she’d also get his cum, having to hold on to control that felt constantly like it was slipping, heavily greased with the need he’d built, made it straight-up painful not to be able to let go. Not only from all he’d done, but mostly because he was going to go over the edge and she’d feel it, hear it, have his seed deep inside her, and she couldn’t go with him.
It was astounding.
And it wasn’t even play. Not Stellan’s kind of play.
It was preparation.
So tomorrow was going to be insane.
Sixx couldn’t wait.
With every lover she’d had it had been about taking.
Except with Aryas. With Aryas it had been about trust.
With Stellan it was about giving.
Giving the only thing she had.
So she had to bite her inner lip when she felt and heard him taking himself there, holding her in his arms as he did it, and she had to close her eyes and brace her whole body when she heard him slip over, clutching her close, burying himself as deep as he could get.
She had to steel herself even as she listened to him coming down, his breaths steadying, his face stuffed in her neck, his fingers leisurely keeping at their torment.
Finally, he pulled out and rolled to his back, but immediately he hauled her on top of him and trapped her in his arms.
Sixx rested her forehead against his throat.
She was going to draw this moment in her book, graphically, vividly, her legs straddling his thigh, his arms tight around her, his cum gliding out of her and onto his skin.
Eventually, he drifted a hand down to trail his fingers at her upper ass.
“How are you, darling?” he murmured.
“How are you?” she asked.
“I’m excellent.”
“Then I’m that too.”
His fingers stopped trailing and moved to grip her at her waist.
They usually fell asleep like this. Unless they’d made love in the morning and were getting up to get ready to face their days, after Stellan had come inside her, she kept him there. Unless she had to, she never wanted to wash him away.
So when his grip eased and he was simply holding her, his chest moving with his steady breaths moving her, she was lulling to sleep, thinking he was doing the same, when he spoke.
“I fear you’re not believing in this.”
Her eyes, which had drifted closed with oncoming sleep, opened with ready alertness, like in the next instant she’d need to take flight.
“How do I get my Simone to believe?” he asked in a tone where it was clear he did not expect her to answer.
So she didn’t.
She lay naked in his arms against his long, lean, warm, strong, naked body, held by him, feeling him seep out of her, wondering if she’d ever find a way to believe.
“You know life isn’t perfect, Simone,” he whispered. “It burns in me that you know that all too well. But days like this happen, sweetheart. They’re what get us through the days that aren’t like this. It’s just that you haven’t ever experienced that, so you don’t understand it isn’t about surviving, it’s about living for days just like today.”
“Can we go to sleep?” she asked.
He held her in a way she knew he was, for once, not going to give her what she wanted.
But then he gave her what she wanted.
“Of course, honey,” he murmured.
She snuggled in, cuddling closer.
His arms tightened and stayed that way.
And Sixx drifted to sleep held tight in Stellan’s arms knowing two things.
She’d kept her promise to Aryas. She’d found some happy.
So that was all good.
She also knew that this would be the memory she’d keep with her, the flashback in the novel of her life that would keep her strong and ready to face anything until she faced the end—movies and togetherness and pasta and falling asleep in her lover’s arms.
It would be bittersweet when she went on not having it.
But it would serve her to keep on keeping on.
Because she’d know in her heart that for one shining moment in her life, she’d been the woman who deserved it.
eleven
Forever
SIXX
Sixx opened her eyes when Stellan slid a finger down her cheek.
She lifted her gaze up to him and saw he didn’t look sleepy in the slightest.
“Prepare for me, darling,” he said softly, and she felt the heat hit her chest, between her legs, in her face … everywhere.
It was time.
Time to play.
“Coffee in the bathroom,” he went on. “I’ll meet you by the pool.”
He straightened, and her eyes tracked him as he did, but he didn’t walk away.
He said, “Hurry.”
That was when he started moving away.
She watched him in a new pair of lounge pants, and again no shirt, take five steps (she counted).
Then she threw the covers back and dashed into the bathroom.
No glossy cream box that day.
No.
Spread across the vanity counter was a one-piece black lace number that was panties attached to a V of material just above the pubis that swept up over her breasts and narrowed over the shoulders. Thin straps ran down the back to a bra-like fastening under the shoulder blades that came from a strap just under the breasts at the front.
The panties were hipsters, so the beautifully placed ribbons that started where the V came up above the pubis were designed to curve over hips at the waist, highlighting those swells, drawing the eye. At the back, straps started to form on the panties at the sides of the hips and met the straps curving along the waist, to attach in a complicated crisscross to a diamond-size panel of lace that did very little to cover an ass.
It was the most feminine, most beautiful wireless teddy cage she’d ever seen.
And she could not fucking wait to put it on.
On the counter above the sexy teddy was her rose gold choker.
Her legs trembled, and with all due haste her hand darted to her toothbrush.
She wasted no time preparing for Stellan, even if she went all out with heavy makeup around her eyes and full-force, adorably fuckable hair.
She put no jewelry on other than what Stellan had laid out for her.
The choker.
And after she finished placing it around her neck and looked in the mirror, she whispered, “Oh hell.”
Sixx her own damned self bought Stellan something he could collar her with.
God, she’d collared herself for him.
Harking back—and she could likely remember every single one she’d seen him with—she’d never seen him collar a slave.
Not one.
But their first time playing, he wanted her collared.
On this thought, honest to God, she nearly orgasmed right there staring at herself in the mirror, smoky eyes, racy-but-classy teddy, collar, ready for him.
Instead, she took a deep breath to steady herself because she had a feeling she had a variety of challenges waiting for her, and she was not going to let him down.
She was going to give to him exactly what he wanted exactly how he wanted it even if it killed her.
She took her empty mug down with her, and as she hit the bottom of the stairs, she saw him in the same seat by the pool in the same position as he had been the day before, except he didn’t have a phone to his ear. But he did have his elbow on the arm of his chair, a cup of coffee held up at his side.
She noted there were dishes on the table beside him, a folded napkin, some kind of cutlery, like he’d had breakfast.
There was also a folded bath towel.
My, my, my.
Her legs stated trembling again.
Her determination to have it together took another huge hit just seeing him there, gazing at the rippling waters of his pool (the water feature was on), drinking coffee … waiting for her.