“Dirty. It feels fuckin’ dirty,” Rob growls, his upper lip curled into a handsome snarl that I want to suck on.

  “Do you wanna be dirty with me, Big Man?” I purr, tracing a fingertip across the sweetheart neckline of my teddy to seduce him.

  Clearly affected by my teasing, he samples his bottom lip leaving a wet sheen in its wake. “What I need and what I feel are two different things.”

  “It’s not a sin, sweetheart, to embrace pleasure with me because we love each other.”

  “So everyone says.”

  “What do you say?”

  Rob’s eyelids slide closed in a way that speaks of arousal, not unease. A richer gruffness tinges his tone. “I say, I always wanna be dirty with you. That I wanna feel you and fuck you like a slut, bent over, gasping like the club whores.”

  I’d love that, too, once in a while. Being screwed like a boneless ragdoll has its appeal.

  “And why’s that?”

  “’Cause it aches, all the time.”

  “What aches?” I think I know.

  He thumps a meaty fist on his breastplate. “Bein’ away from you. Goin’ through this same fuckin’ do-si-do week after week. Not gettin’ any better.”

  “Did you throw up after having sex with them?”

  A stiff nod. “Twice.”

  “That’s progress.”

  He shrugs unconvinced. “Not really.”

  At least his hostility has died, and we can be candid with each other. That’s a step in the right direction. Whether he believes it or not, puking twice is favorable compared to the five or more that could’ve happened. It’s about perspective. The therapist he sees twice a month thinks Rob unconsciously tries to purge what his subconscious believes are sins by throwing up. It’s also a unique form of unwanted self-flagellation. To combat part of his inner struggles, he exercises, rides, and works with criminals that he doesn’t have to be polite around. Every facet of Rob’s life is constructed in a way to heal him or provide healthy outlets for his issues. I’m also one of the outlets; the one that tries to fix his sexual responses. At first, we couldn’t hug without strain, cursing, and rage. Obviously, he’s overcome much more than that since. Baby steps.

  “Why don’t you take off the rest of your clothes for me?” It’s a soft order. One that he can reject, but I don’t think he will. The tension has bled from his system, the teddy bear I cherish is ready to play whether he realizes it or not.

  Fists down at his sides, Rob shuffles his feet. “I dunno if I’m ready.”

  “You are.” A bit firmer.

  “Fuck.”

  “Pants, Big Man. Show me that thick cock.”

  A flash of panic and uncertainty morphs his face for a suspended moment before he flips open his belt buckle, and undoes the button on his jeans using two deft fingers. Carefully, he retracts the zipper and shoves the denim along with boxer briefs to his ankles. Bent in half, the muscles in his shoulders flex as he unlaces his boots, and removes them with his socks and bundle of clothing. A small sigh flutters through the air. Returning to full height, Rob kicks the pile to the wayside and stares at me full on. His massive dick sways back and forth like a baseball bat—happy to be uncaged.

  Giddy beyond belief, yet careful not to smile, I harness my cool Mistress vibe instead, and tip my forehead toward the dildo, and bottle of lube beside it.

  Rob’s Adam’s apple rolls in his throat as he swallows, fighting off nerves. It shouldn’t be sexy but is.

  “Talk to me,” I encourage to keep him out of his head.

  “I’m gonna kick Tyler’s scrawny ass for suggesting this,” Rob grits through clenched teeth, taking a tentative step in the right direction.

  “Why?” I snicker.

  Exhaling loudly, a rumble percolating in his chest, Rob scratches the back of his neck, shaking his head. “Because that fucker suggested a big plug, puttin’ the idea in your head. That dildo wouldn’t be an anal wrecker if it weren’t for that little shit.” He doesn’t seem the least bit pissed about it. If anything, he’s now amused.

  “How do you know?” His mind fascinates me. Aside from Rob’s sexual hang-ups, he sees the world differently than most. He’s more honest, raw, and doesn’t wear blinders, whereas Tyler’s a bit of a dreamer.

  He scratches his elbow. “’Cause I do. Your small cheek twitch is a tell. You’re fightin’ off a smile or laugh, not sure which. I think you forget I work with bad guys who make it their job to lie for sport. Your expressions say a lot, even when you’re trying hard not to have one.”

  See. Brilliant mind. He’s spot on.

  I shift again, more turned on by his observations than I should be. Dommes are supposed to take pride in their ability to control their outward emotions. But most of us don’t have human lie detectors assessing our every move. He’s been reading me since the moment he stepped through the door. It’s a heady feeling when you think about it.

  I try hard not to squirm again under his scrutiny that fills my veins with lust.

  “What else does my body language say?” My bare toes curl in anticipation.

  “Well…” The smart-ass taps his chin, scanning me every which way for show. “Your stiff nipples say you’re aroused. The subtle squirm you fail at hiding suggests anxiety, or that you wanna jump my bones. I’m gonna go with the latter. Your eyelids hood the slightest when I say something that makes you wet… like right now. You love that I can read you like a sexy fuckin’ book.”

  “I do. A lot.” This time I don’t suppress the salacious grin. There’s no use.

  Rob’s brow quirks like Dwayne Johnson and I almost come on the spot. “Am I wrong?”

  Jesus Christ, he’s too much. My hottie’s in rare form tonight—flirty, open, and less combative.

  “About which part?” I ask.

  “All of it.” He takes a step closer.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think you want to keep me talkin’, ’cause I keep takin’ steps toward this anus destroyer, not away. The thought of me riding it makes you hot. And you love that Tyler put the thought in your head.”

  “Why would I love that?”

  “’Cause it keeps us interconnected, right where you want us to be. It’s like he’s here, cheering us on.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  Half a shrug. “Ehhh… Honestly? A bit. But not for the reason you might think. Tyler and I, as you know, share a weird-as-fuck bond—obviously. ’Cause him sendin’ a picture of a plug in his ass would gross out most straight men. It gets to me because it doesn’t cause that reaction.”

  “So none of that ever grosses you out?”

  “Nope. Not really. You’re an extension of me, and by way of that, he is also.”

  “But you don’t feel that way about Kendra.”

  “Kendra doesn’t have your heart. We do. I’ve seen, been through, and heard a fuckuvalot in my life. Ninety-five percent of the time I can identify fact from fiction. Fact is we’re yours. And, our unit has grown stronger since Tyler came into the picture. Not weaker, like I had suspected it might three years ago.”

  “You’re goin’ deep tonight, Big Man.”

  “Monday’s gonna come soon enough, and there’s no reason to go into any discussion without layin’ the cards on the table. The ones I can, at least.”

  “Are you nervous about ‘the talk’?” I air-quote for emphasis.

  “Not today. Maybe tomorrow I will be. I’m too busy tryin’ to figure out how I’m gonna get that thing inside me without havin’ an episode.” He inclines his head in the toy’s direction, lips pressed into a thin, contemplative line.

  “You’ve ridden those before.”

  “Not that big.”

  “You like ’em… not small.” Using the word big doesn’t sound right. Rob has a hard enough time coming to terms with his love of anal sex. Emphasizing his preference in a grotesque manner won’t keep the demons locked up in their compartmentalized cells. Subtlety is key.

  Another step closer to the dildo, eyes locked on its offending size. “There’s pushing limits, Mistress, and then there’s that.”

  Ah, yes, there it is, that sweet word imparting his lips—Mistress.

  Whether Rob admits it aloud or not, the size turns him on. I special ordered this toy for him months ago, and have been waiting for the right time to use it. I even consulted Tyler on the purchase. He has good taste. The navy-blue color is masculine enough. We didn’t go flesh tone since I felt it hovers a little closer to the bi line if it looks real. The ten-and-a-half-inch length is a monster, not too far from his own girthy eight incher. Where it gets crazy is the circumference. The average man is four and a half inches around when erect. Rob is closer to six, I think. This monstrosity is eight. Not the largest by any stretch, in a sex toy industry that caters to the wild and crazy without batting an eyelash, but it does go well beyond normal parameters.

  “I think it’s the perfect size for you. A big dick for a big man.”

  Rob groans, scrubbing a shaky palm down his face.

  “You don’t think so?” I smirk, reveling in his adorable discomfort.

  “I think you’re my Mistress who likes to test me.”

  “That’s part of the fun.”

  He snorts. “For you.”

  “For both of us. Now go on and lube it up for me… nice and slow.”

  Another groan reverberates as my man reaches the dildo and kneels. Without protest, he clicks open the bottle of flavored lube. With Rob and Tyler I prefer this kind, just in case I get the urge to rim them. Regular lube doesn’t have a pleasant flavor. Strawberry, on the other hand, is palatable. Pouring a generous amount on the tip of the rubber cock, it cascades down the veiny sides.

  Rob glances up at me, the thick muscles in his neck bulging as he wraps a fist around the toy. My fingers can’t touch around its girth, yet Rob’s can—barely. Up and down, not making a sound aside from his harsh pants, and the wet schlick-schlick of lube, he readies it. I grow wetter at the sight. There’s something extra hot about a big guy on his knees, stroking a fake dick while his own stands proud between beefy thighs. A dribble of pre-cum runs down the underside of his prick.

  “Does it feel good?” I purr, spreading my legs to give him a front-row view of my glistening snatch.

  Rob watches my deliberate movements, licking his lips as if starved for a taste.

  When he doesn’t reply, I try again. “Does the cock feel good?”

  “Uh huh,” he mumbles, jacking the dildo faster, eyes locked on my cunt. Deep inside the recesses of my depraved mind, I imagine it’s Tyler’s member deriving pleasure from him. We’ve never played together before, but I do dream of it often. Sometimes it’s them touching, sharing in mutual gratification as I watch. Others, it’s us together—me as the center of their universe. If it wouldn’t spook Rob, I’d roll play the naughty scenes flashing in my head. One in which Tyler begs for our touch. Not mine—ours.

  A flutter dances in my belly at the mere notion.

  No.

  I shove that delusion into a mental trash compactor.

  Now’s not the time to fantasize. Later, maybe, when I’m alone.

  Readjusting my braid over my shoulder, I blink twice and focus on the present.

  It’s show time.

  “Prep yourself,” I command, my voice raspy with anticipation. Doesn’t he look incredible, stroking, stroking, stroking that monster, priming it for insertion? I think he does. Beyond freaking sexy.

  I bite my bottom lip as Rob reopens the lube with his thumb, and pours a liberal amount on his fingertips. Reaching behind himself, I witness the very moment he delves inside. A sharp wince covers his handsome face half a second before it goes slack. A wave of euphoria washes over him, blocking out all the bad juju. That’s it, sweetheart, get in there, and explore your hole. It’s not a sin.

  A faint moan emits as Rob rocks back to finger himself.

  “That’s it, babe. How’s it feel?”

  His eyelids shutter and chin drops to chest. “Fuck, Mistress, just… fuck.”

  The ache in my clit and breasts intensifies as I watch him in action. The loud squelch of Rob fucking that tight hole is too much to bear, so I moan alongside him, dropping a hand to my pussy. It’s pointless to tease myself, I’m too revved up to care. Eyes on my man, I drive two fingers into the honeypot.

  Yes!

  My chest heaves skyward, head snapping back as I cry out for him.

  Answering my call, Rob straddles the dildo, positions it, then does the magical burn and slide. It’s glorious to watch, every single throbbing second.

  The monster breaches his outer ring. I don’t have to see it firsthand to know. The spotlight overhead illuminating Rob’s face illustrates it all. The lip-biting grimace, the subtle hip adjustment, followed by the blissful acceptance into his body. It’s a gluttonous eye feast to behold.

  An inch is inserted, and he’s already panting, cheeks flushed, pecs glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. I can practically see his heart thundering in that perfect chest.

  Sucked into the moment, into him—us, I batter my g-spot in a series of jabs.

  “That’s so hot,” I breathe, hooking a knee over the arm of the chair for better access. I add a third finger. The extra stretch is just what I need, as I watch my man come apart.

  Palms lying flat on both knees, Rob nods his response.

  “How’s it feel?”

  “Full,” he chokes, beads of perspiration rolling down the side of his face. “So fuckin’ full.”

  “Do you like it?”

  I know he does.

  “Yes,” he says on a whiskey-tinged growl.

  That’s it? That’s all he’s gonna give me is a meager yes? That’s not good enough.

  Tsking his lack of response, I arch a brow. “Where're your manners, Big Guy?”

  “Thank you, Mistress,” he rasps.

  “What are you thanking me for?”

  Ignoring my question, Rob sinks another two inches, filling his channel. A guttural moan ejects his parted lips, air freezes in his lungs, blunt fingernails imbed in his muscular thighs as he curls them under. A violent tremor takes over his frame. Oh, yes, he loves that cock in his ass, perhaps more than I do.

  “Do you wanna fuck that beautiful hole for your Mistress?”

  “Yes.” He nods rapidly, lost in the moment.

  Nope. That’s not going to do. When I ask a question, I expect a proper reply.

  Unsatisfied by his monosyllabic answers, I kneel on the floor in front of the chair. Placing both hands on the cool hardwood, I position myself on all fours and crawl toward Rob like a lioness tracking her prey. Our eyes lock, tethering us as one, while my hips swish gracefully between movements. Uncupped, my breasts sway in the lace, nipples grazing the fabric, turning me on more than I already am.

  Halfway to Rob, I pause to dispense another order. “More.”

  Gulping, he blinks a slow yes, head dipping the slightest in submission. Then it happens, that insane body surrenders to the invader, taking more shaft.

  Those glistening eyes roll back into his skull.

  “Good job, Big Guy,” I praise because that’s what he deserves. Not many people would fend off their demons like Rob does. Even less would trust their woman enough to know what’s best for them. This is what he needs today. To feel loved, taken care of, pleasure, and respect. I respect his body enough to know what it can and can’t take. What it desires and doesn’t.

  It’s time to amp up my game.

  Arriving at my man, I don’t say anything as I nudge his dick with my nose. Rob shivers. I grin, and do it again. A faint moan is my gift. I sample the crown with the poke of my tongue, delighting in the scent of man, spicy cologne, and the fresh outdoors that swirls inside my nose, intoxicating my senses. It’s utterly divine. An aphrodisiac in its own right. Another sweep of my tongue and the slight tang of his pre-cum awakens my taste buds. Yes. That’s exactly what I need. I do it once more, and my stomach shudders, nipples throbbing, as I suppress the urge to reach back and finger myself in tandem with my kitten licks.

  “Oh. Fuck!” Rob’s hands fist on his thighs, knuckles blanching. I sample him again, watching the tension in his forearms surge out of my periphery. He loves this alright. To get a better reaction, I suckle that mushroom head in my mouth—not too hard, not too soft, just enough to drive him wild.

  Ahhh, yes, there’s that full-body quake.

  A broken moan and shuddery exhale.

  My own wetness begins to trickle down the insides of my thighs. If I don’t get off soon, I’m gonna have a severe case of lady blue balls. I need him so damn bad, and he doesn’t even know it.

  Squeezing my lips around his thickness, a burst of pre-cum bathes my tongue, and I swallow it down with a hungry groan.

  Wanting more, I grip the space where his thighs meet pelvis and shove him downward, forcing his body to impale itself on the dildo, as far as it can go. Rob doesn’t stop me. He obeys the silent order without resistance.

  “Ronan! Mistress!” he roars, taking it all. “Fu-ck. Fuck! Fuck!”

  Jesus, I can’t take it anymore. Those sounds. His taste—the heady smell of his pre-cum… I…

  Throwing caution to the wind, I pull away from his glans, push Rob’s hands off his thighs, and straddle that sexy lap. Feet planted flat on the floor, I thread my fingers behind his neck and sink to the hilt on that monster dick. Then, I come. Hard. It’s unexpected and so fucking powerful that stars burst behind my eyelids. Incoherent sobs of relief pour from my lips. Rob palms my ass cheeks and forces me to ride him through the crescendo. But it doesn’t let up. One orgasm ebbs as the next slams into me like a bolt of lightning. Unable to stop, I hold on for dear life as my pussy clamps around its mate.

  “Rob!” I wail before sinking my teeth into his throat to gain some traction—marking him. It doesn’t work. They keep coming and I… dammit!

  Rob grunts, impaling me on explosive repeat.

  “I’m so sorry,” I cry out, sagging against his chest, giving my body what it wants—him.

  “I got you, Mistress.”

  “I needed it too much. Needed you too much.”

  He kisses my cheek. “I know.”