“Okay. We’ll talk more about it later.”
“One question I had, and maybe it's written in already?” I ask, sitting up. “How will we decide the lines of when we’re just Becker and Nora dating versus Dom and sub in a scene?”
“We can schedule our scenes. I want to get to know you, too. The point of this isn’t to always be in a scene.”
“I think when we’re having sex though, even if it isn’t a scheduled scene, there’s some aspect of the dynamic I’d expect. Like the other night. We weren’t technically in a scene.”
“But I still wanted you to beg, and you still wanted to plead,” he says. “I think that’s just us playing out our kinks. And totally okay to do outside of scheduled play time.”
“I think I’m on the same page as you with that, then.” I mindlessly play with his hair and it has him sighing against my neck. His breath is warm, and the sensation sent my pussy throbbing.
“You like to be called Mr. King,” I say.
“And you like Sir. You can use both. But, when you’re coming, I’d prefer Mr. King.” Becker’s hands cup either side of my face as he props himself up on his elbows.
“How often do you want to do scenes?” I ask.
“Contract says every Friday. I want you to spend the evenings with me on Wednesdays. I’d pick you up after work and bring you home Thursday morning. Same for the weekends. Friday through Sunday morning.”
“I work on Saturdays. I don’t know how we’d make that work.”
Becker dips his head and sucks a breast into his mouth. I’d forgotten I’m only in a robe, so it’s easy access. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. As long as we’re both saying we want to make it work right now, that’s all that matters.” His mouth is on me again, sucking and biting while his hand trails below my waist.
“Say it if you want me to stop, Nora. Say your word.”
I grip his hair in my hand and push him closer to my chest. “Green, Mr. King.”
“I want to fuck you now. So tomorrow after you come over, we can play. I want to feel you now, be with you now. Want to be inside you and you’re just mine. Then tomorrow you can be my dirty girl.” His hand slips into my pajama shorts.
I gasp, two of his fingers slipping inside me. The heel of his palm digs against my clit. I grind my hips against him, trying to chase the pressure to ease my swollen clit. Becker’s fingers play with me, pumping so slowly that all it’s doing is teasing me. He’s waiting for me to ask for it, to beg him to be inside of me.
I arch my back trying to get closer to him, but all it does is make him move inside of me slower. “Please, Mr. King.”
“Please, what, kitten?” He croons.
“I need your cock. Can you fill me, please?”
“Hmm,” he says as if he’s got to think about it. As if he isn’t hard as a rock on top of me. “I don’t know.”
“I’ll do whatever you want, Mr. King. Please? Your kitten’s been a good girl, hasn’t she?”
“Have you come at all today, kitten?”
“Not today,” I say. “I touched myself last night.”
He picks up the speed of his thrusts. “Did you think of me fucking your tight cunt?”
“I thought about how your mouth felt on me, Sir. Of how badly I needed you the other night. I loved taking you in my mouth.”
“Fuck, Nora.” He groans, pressing kisses along my stomach.
“I was thinking about what you might have been doing. Maybe you were jerking off to me at the same time.”
His tongue darts out, gliding along my skin, and it turns into angry hot open-mouthed kisses. Like he can’t get enough of me, and I can’t get enough of him, either. “I’ve jerked off to you so many times.”
“Did you like my mouth, too, Sir?”
“Fuck, yes I did. You took me down your throat so well.”