All Souls' Night - Renee Rose Page 0,131

sound of his voice. “Green, Sir.”

From his sharp intake of breath, I know that was the perfect answer. He must have leaned in, because his whispered reply speaks into my ear. “My very good boy.” He lightly nips the shell of my ear, making me gasp, shiver.

I want his hands and mouth roaming all over my body. I want him to do to me all the things I watched on my phone.

I want him.

Maybe he won’t be my forever, but I will forever regret it if I don’t at least offer myself to him for tonight. This man formed as a fantasy in my brain and here he is, in the flesh, offering to make all my darkest fantasies come true.

What idiot would turn that down?

Not me, that’s for sure.

His hand slides up to cup the nape of my neck. Then through my shirt, I feel the weight of the falls settle on my lower back, slowly trailing up and down my spine.

But it’s his hand cupping my neck that I focus on. The contact.

Other than shaking hands, and the occasional, friendly hug from someone at work, I’m sorely lacking in human contact. In my family, only little children and married folks get hugs, unless it’s girls hugging girls.

Girls hugging boys, even their siblings, was actively discouraged.

When a wave of familiar anger blasts through me, I quickly shove it back. My ghosts have no business, no right to be here tonight.

Tonight is my night.

The hand on my neck slides up to the back of my head, where he buries his fingers in my hair and starts massaging my scalp. I’m a little embarrassed by the moan that rolls free, but I can’t help it. It feels sooo darned good.

Meanwhile, the falls disappear from my back and then lightly land, tentatively, testing me, I’m certain. Between his fingers massaging my scalp, and that, I quickly sink into a dark, velvety cocoon of pleasure. Even my uncomfortably aching cock fades to the background as that sweet, soft pleasure flows and spreads through me.

The flogger strokes gradually increase in force and frequency, until it feels like a massage loosening my back muscles.

No, I’m shocked to realize, this does not hurt at all. Not in the slightest. It feels darned good, in fact.

I wonder how much better it would feel against my bare flesh?

When he stops flogging me, my eyes pop open and it’s on the tip of my tongue to beg him to continue.

Then he speaks in my ear again. “Give me a color, baby.”

“Green, Sir. Can I have more? Please?”

He nuzzles my temple. “You can have all you want.”

“Can I take my shirt off?” Maybe I should wait for an order, I don’t know.

Now he laughs. “I will keep you safe, baby. You can take off or leave on whatever you want, this time. Be warned that when you’re mine, you will be playing naked.”

I shiver and turn my head to stare into his eyes. The way he said that word—mine—makes me want to beg for that right now.

And that he didn’t say if I was his—but when.

Literally, this is the first time in my life I can recall feeling like someone wants me. Even Taylor’s earlier attention pales in comparison.

That’s dangerous, right? Isn’t this me being needy and reckless and jumping into this simply for instant gratification? I’ve done a lot of research over the past few months, and I remember all the warnings about taking my time entering a romantic relationship. I mean, twice in one night now I’ve tripped all over myself and fallen right into the laps of hunky men.

Shouldn’t that be a warning sign?

I know all of this, and yet I still don’t care.

Staring into his blue gaze, full of galaxies and deep oceans and gorgeous midnight skies, something clicks deep in my soul.

This man is my future.

My forever.

“Yes, Sir,” I whisper.

His smile widens. “That’s my very good boy.”

I sit up and unbutton my shirt, quickly shrugging it off. He takes it from me and carefully drapes it over the end of the equipment rack. I start to reach for my belt when his hand captures mine.

“You don’t have to get naked right now if you don’t want to.” The way his hungry gaze devours my torso makes me want to strip right now.

I want him to keep looking at me like that. Being the focus of someone’s desire is a heady, intoxicating sensation.

“What if I want to, Sir?”

His gaze narrows. “Watch out calling me that—I like