Page 54 of The Chains You Defy

“As if you’d wish that.”

“It’s not the worst idea, is it? I mean, we’re friends, and we can set boundaries. Neither of us wants anything else but friendship, and I can’t deny that you’re one attractive bastard. Plus, you said so yourself, you fae are into casual fu—intimacy.”

Gods, I could feel my cock hardening from her suggestion alone.

I dragged my hand through my hair. This was a bad idea, no matter how much my anatomy claimed otherwise. But I was fighting a losing battle. “I thought you didn’t trust me anymore?”

“To be honest with me? No. With my body, though? You never gave me a reason not to.”

Before I could stop myself, I preened, and she grinned. But the light moment was gone much too soon, and I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “You’re in emotional turmoil. Not really the mindset that screams being capable of making such important decisions.”

“I cried. I slept. There’s no uproar left, and I’m using logic to determine how to improve things. I’m so sick of being a victim, and what you’ve said sounds weirdly sensible.”

Ah, of course. She wanted this because doing so was therapeutic, and I had to remind myself of the fact. I’d suggested this approach myself, after all, so I should better clamp down on my eagerness. “And you’re sure about—?”

“Yes.”

Fuck, her determination had me believe her. Weighing the options, I pushed my own excitement back into the far corners of my mind.

There was steel and pure resolve in her stance. She was serious.

In my life, I’d had my fair share of sexual encounters. I prided myself on never having left a lover unsatisfied, but I also couldn’t deny I was used to taking charge and to females voicing their wants and limits. Every single fae I’d fucked hadn’t gone in blind into our trysts, and most of the time, while chasing my own pleasure, theirs was a byproduct. There hadn’t been even one sexual partner that had meant enough to me to care more about their experience than my own. And in the end, bringing them satisfaction fueled my pride in my capabilities as a bedmate.

But this here, this was different, and I was so out of my depth, as much as I hated to admit to the sentiment.

All the mulling brought another memory to the surface, a conversation with my father—the only one I’d had with him about sexuality and his tastes—and then I knew what was necessary to make this work.

“If I agree, there will be a few ground rules.”

“Of course. Everything about you comes with weird conditions.” Her soft laughter was like a melody engraving itself right into my soul.

My chest vibrated as a growl took over my words. Suddenly, keeping myself together was a lot harder. Even though there was a good chance nothing would happen, her actually entertaining the idea was unbelievable.

I couldn’t deny that I wanted her. “Not a joke. Listen, Nayana, this is crucial.”

“I’m all ears.”

“First, you’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

“Technically, yes. Not because I saved myself for marriage, but more because my parents would have killed me, and, as I told you, I never found the right person.”

“So, I won’t claim your first. Not as your friend. That’s something you should give to someone you have feelings for.”

“Rich words from a fae.”

“You’re human, and somehow, this whole purity thing is important in your society. But, I can assure you, there’s more than enough two—or more—can do together.”

“Oh well, I can deal with that.”

“Second, I’m ratherdominant—”

“I wouldn’t have used rather, but yes,” the little temptress interrupted me, and instead of reacting to her teasing, I continued.

“—and that also translates to fucking.”

Her muscles tensed once more, and the importance of explaining where the difference between me and her dead fiancé lay became oppressive. “Still, even if there were a situation in which I would have you tied to my bed, blindfolded and helpless to my every whim—which won’t be the case; this scene is just an example—you’d always have the power to stop the entire encounter in an instant. You’ll have a word that, once spoken, stops everything no matter what.”

Until now, I’d never seen a sense in using those measures. Often, I couldn’t care enough—yes, this sounded bad, but if my bedmate had asked for such methods, I wouldn’t have minded. But I’d never been with someone who had been assaulted.