Page 73 of Wicked Games

“I’ll get you some, but I want to make you come first.” He slides out, and his cum trickles out of me.

“Seth—” I’m not sure if I can.

Brushing my hair away from my face, he says, “Shh. Let me touch you.” He lies on his side next to me, and propping his head on his hand, slides two fingers inside me. It doesn’t hurt as much now, but all he does is make my clit slippery, and slowly, he begins to rub. “Do you like this?”

“Yeah. Can I move yet?”

He chuckles. “You can move now.”

I roll onto my side, snuggle against his chest, and prop my leg on his hip.

“Hmmm. What did I do to deserve you?” he mumbles into my ear.

“I don’t know,” I pant. “I’m going to come.”

Pushing two fingers inside me and pressing his thumb to my clit, he says, “I’m here, sweetheart. Come for me.”

I come on his hand, my muscles gripping his fingers. It hurts, the orgasm making my cramps worse, but it feels good too, and tears drip down my cheeks.

He teases out my orgasm, his fingers touching that sensitive spot inside me, and then gently pulls them out. Holding me, he lets me cry, though I don’t know what I’m crying for. Relief, maybe, that I can feel anything after going so long without. That he pays attention to even the smallest detail. Every flinch, every bead of sweat that covers my skin. He does see me, and I love him for it. When I’m done, he rolls me onto my back and kisses the tears off my face.

“Does it turn you on to hurt me?” I’m asking because if this is going to be part of our relationship, then I should know. I don’t mind if he wants to take control when we make love. It’s a change from sleeping with Darren who only had one goal, but any man would be.

“No,” he says, his breath fanning my skin. “I get turned on because you trust me enough to let me. I don’t need it, but I like it, and I hope every once in a while we can play like this in bed.” He pauses. “You can always tell me that I’m hurting you, and if you want me to stop, I will. You said the first time we had sex you like a little pain, so I hope I didn’t go too far.”

“No, you didn’t, but if my cramps were any worse than they are, I wouldn’t have wanted to do this.”

“That’s fair, and more than I can ask for. That was one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had, and I needed it. I’m grateful you let me take it.”

Brushing my hand down his arm, I say, “That will be a tug-of-war for me. Giving you what you need but knowing when to pull back for myself. I want to please you and make you happy, but not at my expense.”

“I understand. The second you start feeling used and abused, you’ll leave. That’s not what I want and that’s not what this is. But you know that, don’t you? We’ve made love before and it didn’t hurt.”

“Yeah. I’m just feeling this part of our relationship out so I can know what to expect.”

“I’m glad you know you can talk to me. I love you, and I never want to hurt you in a way that will make you scared of me.”

“I love you too.” I pause. I don’t know if I should ask this, but I’m curious. “Did Brooke let you hurt her?”

He kisses my forehead. “I never wanted to hurt her. We had something different than what we have. I told you, there’s something about you that makes me want to control you, but I don’t need it to be happy. That you let me have it sometimes will only be a bonus. And remember, no matter what I take, I will always give it back to you. Our relationship will never be one-sided. Darren did that enough, okay?”

“Okay.” I blow out a relieved sigh.

“I’m going to clean you up.”

“You don’t have to. I can.”

“No, I will, and I’ll go downstairs and grab your pajamas. I assume you have a fresh pair of panties and a pad or something?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

I lie in the wet spot while I wait, the stairs creaking under his feet. I’ve never been with a man who’s wanted to tell me what to do in bed, or what not to do, actually, since it seems like he literally gets off on forcing me to lie still and not move. I’m a little surprised Seth needs something like that considering he’s so powerful outside the bedroom, but he’s had a lot happen to him in the past four months and this could be his way of coping.

He comes back holding my pajamas, toothbrush, and a glass of water, and one hand closed around something that turns out to be three ibuprofen. “Here,” he says, sitting on the edge of the mattress.

I sit up and he carefully gives me the brown pills so I don’t drop them. He rubs my back as I swallow them, one by one, with the cool water. After our lovemaking, I’m thirsty, and I drain the glass.