"I’ll make sure he does." He tilts his head. "But you were saying…”
I draw in a breath, then square my shoulders. "It’s a fantasy of mine, okay? It’s something I’ve always wanted to try out because, as you can see, it arouses me a lot. So," I flip my hair over my shoulder, "so if we are going to do this, then I want to go all the way. I want to make sure that the situation benefits me, as well. This way, I’ll get something out of it too."
"Something more than the safety of your family, don’t you mean?" he reminds me.
My pulse rate ratchets up, my muscles tense up, and I force myself to breathe. "Exactly," I finally say. "The safety of my family and this ... chance to live out my fantasy."
He peers into my features, and I’m sure he’s going to refuse me, when he finally jerks his chin. "Okay," he nods, "you’ve got yourself a deal."
"Okay.” The tension oozes out from my shoulders.
He reaches behind me and tugs on the apron with which he had secured my wrists. I bring my hands in front and rub my wrists together.
He glances down, and I follow his gaze to where the apron ties have indented my skin. His breathing visibly changes, and his muscles seem to tighten. I hold up my arms, and his gaze stays riveted on the marks on my wrists.
He reaches out to trace them, then cups my wrist and brings it toward him. He lowers his head and presses small kisses along the dents. I shiver. He holds both of my wrists, then turns them over to kiss the delicate skin where the pulse beats against it.
My toes curl. My pussy clenches. His tenderness is as much of a turn-on as his dominance, but in a very different way. It’s like I‘m seeing a completely different side of him. One that is more lost, but also more patient, more transparent… More lovable?
My head spins. I must make a noise, for he glances at me. He tugs on my wrists, and I stumble toward him.
"I really am sorry, Flower." He presses a kiss to my forehead. "I love your figure so much that it was the first thing that came to mind when I was trying to hurt you."
"With anyone else, I could have defended myself; you know.” I peer up at him. "But from you, it really hurt me, Christian. You were supposed to protect me, not find out my weak points and…" The pressure behind my eyes builds. Jeez, I‘m not going to cry. Not going to cry. Not after the two of us seem to have to come to some kind of understanding. But maybe it’s the tension that seeps from me, leaving me shaken. A tear slides down my cheek, then another.
"Aurora," Christian says in a shocked voice, "please don’t cry, please don’t."
He scoops me up in his arms, and that only makes me give in completely to the emotions that are choking my throat. Shit, why the hell did I have to choose this moment to have a complete bloody breakdown? I bury my face in his chest and allow the sobs to overwhelm me.
He walks over to a kitchen chair and sinks down into it with me in his lap. He rocks me, holds me, presses kisses to my forehead, and hell, that only makes it worse. Somehow, it was so much easier to stay angry at him, to see him as my enemy, when he was all snarly and growly over-the-top alpha. This … this more tender side of him, on top of the apology—which, honestly, I wasn’t expecting, because he’d only told me what I already know, hadn’t he?
I do have body image issues. It’s one of the reasons I never believed that he finds me attractive. No matter that everything he’s said and done since we met points to the opposite.
And the chemistry between us, well, that speaks for itself. Neither one of us is faking that. And when I was with him… I’d forgotten that I was curvy and overweight, so when he flung that in my face… It was a shock.
And maybe it's that which prompted me to ask him to play at enacting a consensual non-con scene. Somehow, the fact that he could be so cruel to me completely tore off any masks I used to shield myself from the world. Not only has he seen me naked, but he has stripped me of any sense of guilt I may have about what I want. Guess, in a strange way, he empowered me… Even though he insulted me before that.
I try to pull away from him, but he doesn’t let go of me. "Please, baby." He tucks my head under his chin. "I’m so, so sorry for what I said. And honestly, the fact that I am your first, you have no idea how that makes me feel."
"How does that make you feel?" I hiccup.
"It makes me want to take care of you, to protect you, to make sure no one ever hurts you again."
"Not even you?" I peer up at him from under spiky lashes. "What if you hurt me again?"
"Then," he draws in a breath, "then you have my permission to tie me up."
Wh-a-a-t? I blink. "That … that’s huge, right?"
"It is." His lips kick up. "I’m too dominant, way too controlling—"
"You don’t say."
"Too up my own ass to allow anyone to order me around—well, except for Michael, and that’s only because he’s my Capo and the man who brought me up more than my father did. But other than him, I’d never bend my knee for anyone else, except..."
"Except?"
"For you, Flower. Only you have that kind of power over me." He shakes his head. "And fuck, if that doesn’t scare me."