Page 51 of Yearn

“Dominic. . .don’t call me that.”

“Don’t call you what?”

“Mommy.”

“Why not?”

“It’s weird.”

“You like it. Those pupils dilated even more.”

“I should go.”

“You said that already, but you remained right here because you want to stay and touch me some more.”

Her eyes widened, outrage flickering with something hotter she didn’t want me to see.

“Stay and be my Mommy.”

“Dominic, don’t—”

“You said I’m family—”

“Not that sort of family—”

“I like the idea of calling you Mommy. You make me feel like I belong to you. And that’s what you are to me—my comfort, my danger, my everything. . .Mommy. And the sickest part? I want to call you Mommy when I’m hard. I want you to own me like that.”

Her breath caught.

She shifted, like her body didn’t know whether to step back or lean in.

I followed anyway, letting the hunger bleed into every word. “You don’t get it, do you? I don’t want another woman. I don’t want some girl who just wants my money or my body. I want you. I want to kneel in front of you, call you Mommy while you ruin me and save me in the same breath. . .and then I want to ruin you too. Make your pussy weak with my cock.”

Her arms tightened around her chest, but her nipples pressed hard against the silk.

She was fighting me with logic, but her body was giving her true desires away. And God—the irony of it. She had all the power. She was the one who made the rules, who could send me away with a single word. Yet here she was, undone by her own desire, trembling under a title that set her on the throne.

“Dominic, this is not what we should be talking about—”

“Say it once,” I begged, my voice raw, almost breaking. “Call me your Good Boy. Just once. And I swear I’ll lose every ounce of control for you. You’ll see what it means to own me, to make me crawl and worship at your feet, to make me burn with nothing but your name in my throat.”

Her voice cracked, soft but trembling. “I’m. . .not going to say it.”

“Why not?”

“That’s. . .wrong.”

“Wrong is why it’s so good. Wrong is why you’re getting wet and I’m rock hard.” I closed the gap until she had to tilt her head back to hold my stare. “You think I don’t know it’s taboo? You think I don’t hear how filthy it sounds? That’s the point. You tell me I’m your Good Boy, and suddenly I’m not just some tenant downstairs. I’m yours. All yours. Completely undone for you and calling you Mommy.”

Her lips pressed tight, but her body betrayed her again. Those nipples peaked against the red silk so hard I swore they were about to tear the fabric.

I leaned down, my voice rough in her ear. “Don’t lie to me. The idea makes you wet. Because when I call you Mommy, I’m not making you smaller. I’m putting you on the throne. I’m telling you that you’re everything. My caretaker. My tormentor. My goddamn world.”

She gasped, low and unsteady. “Dominic. . .”

I smirked. “Say it once. Call me your Good Boy. Just once. And I swear, I’ll show you how much power you really have over me.”

Her hand twitched at her side, like she wanted to push me away—or pull me closer. Her voice shook, but it came. “You’re. . .out of your mind.”