"Remember, you asked me what I do to destress?"
"You … knit?" I widen my gaze at him.
"I use yarn for my kink; it stands to reason that I respect it enough to learn how to use it in other ways too, right?"
"A sadist with a moral code."
"I wouldn’t be a sadist if I didn’t have one. After all, being a Dominant is no joke. It means being totally committed to your sub and ensuring that she lacks for nothing. And I couldn’t do that if I didn’t have a very strong sense of right and wrong."
"Oh…" I blink rapidly, not sure how to reply to that.
"Also, the knitting really does help me destress, not to mention, it helps me find my feminine side."
"Feminine side?" I look him up and down. "There’s nothing feminine about you."
"I’ll take that as a compliment." He thrusts the shirt at me, so I have no choice but to accept it. "Now, go change, so I can feed you."
Ten minutes later, we are back in the kitchen. This time I’m at the table, watching as he pulls out frozen vegetables and lasagna sheets.
"You sure you don’t want me to cook?"
"I took your ass; the least I can do is cook for you."
I scowl. "Just don’t go making it a habit," I mutter to myself, but of course, jerk face catches it.
"I’ll take your ass when I want, how I want. And you’ll deal with it."
"You don’t expect me to agree to that, do you?"
"Sure, based on the way you were screaming through your orgasm earlier."
My cheeks redden. "Yeah, I climaxed; doesn’t mean I have to like how I got there."
"Stop whining," he drawls. "You like the pain as much as the pleasure that accompanies it."
I bite the inside of my cheek. I know he’s right, dammit. As much as the thought of anal still worries me, the way I climaxed around his dick… It was spectacular. And when he spanked me, it hurt… But hell, if it hadn’t also aroused me. Does he know my body better than I do? Is that what this is about?
I lean my hip against the table. and watch as he pulls out a baking tray, then begins to layer the lasagna.
He catches me watching and winks at me. "Why don't you take a seat."
"Umm…" I redden. "No, thank you. I prefer to ah, stand."
"Is it because your ah, ass is sore?" He smirks.
"No, it's because I need the exercise."
"If you feel like you need more exercise, I could simply keep you in bed longer." My nipples tighten, and tendrils of pain vibrate out from where the shirt I pulled on slithers across the already sensitive skin. Bet that's why he mended the shirt and asked me to wear it—just so it would remind me of how he touched me and made me come earlier.
When I don't reply, his grin widens. Asshole! I take a seat, my arse protests, but actually the pain is not as bad as I expected. "There," I murmur, "happy?"
"Hmm…" His brow furrows. "Clearly, I haven't fucked you enough if you can actually sit down."
"What the—" I throw up my hands. "There's no winning with you, is there?"
"Relax." He chuckles. "I was only teasing you."
A likely story.