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“I’m an asshole.”

Licking his lips, he nods.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t forgive you,” he pants.

“I know,” I tell him, and it’s the truth. I might be here, he might be letting me touch him, but he hasn’t forgiven me yet, and I understand that.

“That feels…” His words trail off.

“Do you want to come?”

He nods, fast and desperate.

“You know what you have to do.”

“I’m not yours.”

“The hell you’re not. You’ll always be mine. I know I’m an asshole. I know I fucked up, but you never stopped being mine, this will never be over. Now ask.”

“No.” He shakes his head.

Reaching behind him, I part his ass cheeks and find his hole with my thumb. His dick jerks in my hand the moment I start to circle his ass, and he pushes back onto my thumb, trying to push it inside of him.

“Ask me,” I growl.

“Please, can I come?” he says, relenting and asking permission, just like I’ve trained him to do.

Working him fast and hard, I let the tip of my thumb breach his tight hole, and he comes with a yell, covering my stomach in spurts of hot cum.

I work him through his orgasm until we’re both a sticky mess and his dick starts to soften.

“An orgasm doesn’t equal forgiveness,” he says through pants, breaking the silence and shocking me with the coldness of his tone.

“I know. That’s not why I made you come.”

“Then why did you?”

“Because you’re mine, and it’s what you needed. I want to take care of you.”

“You didn’t care about that yesterday.”

Releasing his cock, I cup his cheek with my palm, not caring that I’m coating his face with his own release. “I’m an idiot. And I’d like to explain and try to fix things, if you’ll give me the chance.”

“What is there to explain? We had sex, then you left. You got what you wanted.”

“You think I only wanted to fuck you?” I growl.

His shrug is full of hurt and accusation.

“This has never been about fucking sex, Henry. I have a past, a messed-up past, and I didn’t want that to impact you.”

“That’s not an excuse—” he starts, bolder than I’ve ever seen him before.

“No, it isn’t,” I interrupt. “I met a guy at a BDSM club. We hit it off, our kinks aligned, and we started playing together at the club. After a while, we decided to try to be more than just play partners, and he moved in with me. Things were good, or at least I thought they were, and then he broke up with me. He said my need for control was suffocating him. He said it was too much, that I was too much, that my level of control wasn’t power exchange, it was abuse.”

Henry sucks in a sharp breath.