Page 51 of Love By Design

“Your bad day at work is nearly forgotten, isn’t it?”

At first, I didn’t know what he was talking about. The scrunch of my nose had Marshall looking as smug as he deserved. Then I remembered the rest of my day. The argument with my dad about my own version of the proposal, the knowing that it was busy work that wouldn’t go anywhere. I’d come over, annoyed and stressed, and without a single rough touch, Marshall had found a way to clear all of that out of my head.

“Yes,” I whispered, blinking hard.

Why did I want to cry?

What a relief to finally be known this way.

“That’s all I want.” Marshall crooked a finger, beckoning me closer. “I just want you to feel good. I want both of us to feel good.”

I shuffled toward him, closing the space between us. When I reached the gap between his spread legs, he pointed at the floor, and I sank down to my knees. I dropped my weight back onto my heels and settled my palms on the tops of my thighs. He studied me, fingers twitching like he wanted to reach out and touch me, but he never stretched far enough to make the connection. I found myself leaning forward, chasing after the heat of him, the feel of him.

“We can talk about the rest later, but I want to be clear in what I want right now,” he said. “Are you clearheaded?”

“Yes. You can ask me a multiplication up to twelve and I could answer it.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Duly noted, Silas. Thank you, but I don’t think I’ll have to do that yet.”

“Okay,” I whispered.

My fingers tingled, and the muscles in my thighs quivered. I was so desperate for whatever was going to happen next, for whatever kind of release Marshall had in store for me.

“Tonight I’d like to bind your wrists behind your back. I want you to suck my cock until I come. I want you to choke on it, Silas. I want your tears to mix with your spit, to mix with my cum. All of it on your tongue.”

“Shit.”

He flashed a smile, tilting his head to the side. “Then I want you to come without your hands, without penetration.”

I had no doubt Marshall could get me off hands-free, but there was a more pressing question.

“How?”

“I want you to rut into the sheets while my cock softens in your mouth. I want you to come all over my bedding, and then I want to taste you. I want your tears and your spit and my cum returned to me after you finish.”

“Jesus fuck,” I choked, letting out another curse or five under my breath.

How was this man real?

“Because your tears are mine, aren’t they? Your spit? Everything about you belongs to me, doesn’t it?”

I wanted to die because I’d never heard anything more right in my life. My jaw went slack, words trying to form into sentences but falling short.

As if he knew, Marshall smirked and asked, “Does that sound?—”

I cut him off, finding the only word I needed, “Perfect.”

“Go to the nightstand. Get the cuffs and bring them here.”

I scampered around the bed, yanking open the drawer and finding the same cuffs as last time. There were no condoms, no lube, and I wondered if Marshall had been planning this chain of events all along. If he somehow knew we’d end up here when I hadn’t even been certain of it.

Back at the foot of the bed, I handed the cuffs to him, and he gestured in a circle with his finger.

“Strip naked with your back to me. I want to see how I left you.”

The bruises from Friday night had only gotten darker with each passing day, and I made sure to show off my ass when I hinged at the hips to shove my pants and my underwear down. I slipped out of the rest of my clothes, then waited for his next instruction.

“Do they hurt?” he asked.