“False. I like to hear that you think I’mhot,” I pointed out, trying to keep things light. Dread built up inthe back of my mind. Dread of what, I couldn’t guess.
He leaned close, studying my face for a longmoment, as if he would see past the emotional guards I constantlyput up. Obviously, he had, while I’d been strapped down on thatbench, eager to suffer anything for him.
He kissed me, soft and gentle and slow, thenpulled back and said, “I think you aren’t comfortable hearinganything positive about yourself unless you believe it’spretend.”
The fact that he’d hit the mark so deadcenter almost felt like a violation. I dipped my head to hide thetears that inexplicably sprang to my eyes. Why did it feel like afailure, like my darkest secret had escaped, because the man wholoved me learned something true about me?
How messed up was that?
“Hey.” He drew my head to his shoulder andcradled it there. “It’s okay. It’s not a bad thing, I promise.”
“It’s embarrassing. Sex has never beenserious for me. It’s never been with someone I loved and trusted.Or who was creepy observant.” I try to laugh. It sounds bitter andwrong for the moment at hand.
“Charlotte. Look at me.”
I lifted my eyes hesitantly.
“Does it make you feel good to hear thatyou’re a good girl? That you’re my princess?”
I flushed at how silly it sounded out ofcontext. “You know it does.”
“Then keep enjoying it,” he said. “And I’llfeel good knowing that I’m saying these things to you and you’rehearing them, even if it makes you more comfortable to think it’s agame.”
Laughing through my tears, I kissed himagain.
“Come on,” he said with a nudge of hiselbow. “Let’s get you cleaned up, princess.”
I got to my feet, feeling every single oneof those ten spanks and every muscle-straining orgasm. Maybe Mattwas right. Maybe I did need to hear that praise from him in a statewhere I could deny it was authentic in order to accept it.
I supposed we’d have to keep testing histheory. Again and again and again…
CHAPTER SEVEN
(Matthew)
I didn’t take a lot of time in the shower.Charlotte was clearly exhausted. She swayed on her feet while Iwashed her hair and soaped her body. Every time her slick skinrubbed against me, my cock leapt at the contact. I’d been sofucking turned on all night, it was a miracle I hadn’t come in mypants. Or in her mouth. I’d been perilously close.
But since she was so tired and, frankly,since I’d overdone it in the forced orgasms department, I wasn’tgoing to hold her to her earlier suggestion of intercourse. Like agentleman, I would wait until she fell asleep, then masturbate.
When I helped her to bed, I wished I couldhave scooped her up in my arms and carried her. I wasn’t supposedto hate having a disability. That thinking was out of touch withmodern values, as I told myself all the time. But I hadn’t quiteacclimated to the separation between old me and new me, yet. Now,assuming a dom role for the first time since before the bearaccident, I felt… powerless.
We didn’t go all the way to the bedupstairs. I pulled down the covers on the guest bed, and sheclimbed in with a happy sigh.
“Why do you have guest rooms if you don’tbring people here?” she asked sleepily.
“Because I’m always open to possibilities,”I said, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek. “Get some rest.”
“Wait.” She sat up, blinking big, sleepyeyes. “You don’t want to finish?”
“I almost did. Several times,” I joked. “Ithought maybe you’d had enough tonight.”
“I will never get enough of you,” she saidwith a lazy smile. “Unless you’re finished for the night?”
I climbed into the bed beside her. “I wasgoing upstairs to jerk off,” I admitted.
She sat up and got to her knees. “That’s nofun. I would have loved to watch you jerk off.”
“You still can.” I wrapped my hand around myhardening dick to demonstrate. Two slow tugs got me fully erect.Although, my hand couldn’t take full credit; I had an inspiringview. “But it won’t last long. I’ve basically been edging allnight.”