“We should celebrate,” I chirp excitedly. I hop onto my knees and Roscoe takes this as a sign that we should all get excited, so he starts hopping on Adam’s lap and barking at us both. We laugh when he gets so worked up he starts gnawing on Adam’s hand.
“What did you have in mind?” he asks.
I jump off the bed and find my underwear littered somewhere on the floor. “Well, last time, we went to your church…”
“Yeah…” he replies, sounding uneasy.
When I give him a salty look, his brow furrows. “I think it’s time we take it to my turf.”
“I know you’re not suggesting that we go to the sex club owned by the guy I put in the hospital.”
“Listen,” I say carefully, “I know all the back entrances in that place. I could smuggle you in so easily.”
“Sage, no.” He barks with the tone of a father disciplining his petulant child.
“Why not?” I whine, crawling on the bed and sitting on my knees to face him. I still haven’t put on my top, so I’m hoping my bare tits will help sell the plan. “There’s so much I want to show you.”
“Like…”
I press my lips to his. “So much, Church Boy.”
With a pained-sounding moan, he kisses me back.
“Can you be more specific?” He climbs up to his knees so we’re facing each other, and I can feel just how aroused he is by this idea. Grabbing my hips, he grinds himself against me.
“You could tie me up,” I mumble between kisses. “Make me your little fuck toy.”
His mouth freezes before he pulls away. “Jesus, Sage.”
I notice the way he winces as I drag him back against me.
Adam still struggles so much with the really dirty, kinky things, and I know the reason he feels so bad is because of how badly he wants it.
I just wish he’d let go and give in to what he truly desires.
“Don’t tell me that doesn’t sound fun,” I say, leaning close for another kiss.
He pulls away again. “Does it sound fun to you?”
“Yes,” I reply without hesitation.
“Being my fuck toy sounds fun to you?” This time when he asks it, it sounds more like he’s challenging me than asking.
“Yes,” I answer again, more emphatically.
He climbs off the bed in frustration, reaching for his boxer briefs on the floor and dragging them up his legs as we sit in awkward silence. His movements are rapid and full of tension, radiating anger.
“Just say what you want to say, Adam.”
When he spins around, his expression is tight. Thin lips, flared nostrils, wide eyes. “Why do you want me to treat you like shit? You’re the one fucking person I don’t want to hurt, but I feel like you keep pushing me to. I don’t get it, Sage.”
I hate it when he calls me Sage. I’ve just now realized how much I hate it. Because it means he’s not being intimate. It means he’s cross, either with me or someone else.
“You think I understand?” I reply, lowering until I’m sitting on my feet. “I’ve never wanted anyone to degrade me like that, Adam, but I desperately want it with you. I think…
because you’re so good all the time, I want to be the person you’re comfortable enough with to let go of all of that. I want you to be bad with me. And I refuse to feel ashamed of what I want. I just…thought you liked it too.”
“I do like it,” he bursts out, looking far more frustrated as he drags his fingers through his hair. Then he climbs back on the bed and cradles my face in his hands. “I love the idea of making you my fuck toy. I love the idea of fucking you so hard you scream. I love the way you look when you’re gagging on my cock, tears running down your face.”
His thumb runs along my cheek before his hand closes around my throat. Then he pulls my face against his in a way that’s both rough and romantic.
“Hurting you turns me on, Peaches, and I hate myself for that. Please don’t ask me to do it.”
His fingers relax from around my throat as he peppers my face with delicate kisses. I practically melt in his arms.
I feel his torment in the tremble of his fingers and the tender way he holds me like something fragile and valuable.
For so long, I’ve tried to help fix all of the broken things inside him and now I’m asking him to do something that could break him even more.
Or would it heal him?
His entire life, he’s been trained to believe these lustful cravings are wrong. That he’s sick and depraved and sinful. If Adam learns to control these things he wants and experiences
real trust, would it help repair everything his father taught him was wrong with him?
“You’re not really hurting me, Adam. You know that. It’s all an illusion that turns us on, and that’s okay. Besides…” I whisper, looking into his eyes. “I trust you.”
I can see by the way he stares back at me that this is what he needs to hear. His ability to trust has been shattered, so telling him that I trust him might be the one thing he needs most.
So I continue.
“You could tie me up. Spank me. Hurt me, and I trust that if I told you to stop, you would.”
“And I can trust you to tell me if it gets to that?”
“Yes,” I say with conviction. “You can trust me.”
I feel the conflict in him burning like fire as he stares into my eyes. He’s on the verge of something and the progress we’ve made so far means the world to me. And I want to make the rest of that progress together.
“If you really don’t want to, then we won’t,” I say gently.
“I’d never pressure you into something I didn’t think you truly wanted, but I see the way you’re struggling, Adam. And I just want you to learn to let go of the lies you’ve been fed your entire life that these things you want are bad. Stop telling yourself that fucking me is hurting me.”
I press my fingers to his chest, feeling his heartbeat.
“Okay,” he says, and by the intense eye contact between us, I know he means it. That this means something special to him, and my heart swells with pride.
It’s a Tuesday night, which means the club is a tad bit quieter than if we tried to do this on a Saturday. There aren’t any
stragglers lingering on the street outside the club and security is slacking.
Even then, I’m not confident enough to just try and walk right in. Instead, I make a few calls. And by calls, I mean I send a text to Lacey, one of the girls who bartends in the VIP
section.
This is why I’m shocked when, moments after my text, it’s Sadie who opens the door in the back to let us in. She’s standing in the doorway with a smile on her face and her arms crossed.
I’m frozen midstep, staring at her in shock and wondering if she’s about to tell me to fuck off or hug me.
“Hi…” I say with unease. Adam is standing behind me, a firm hand on my arm, ready to drag me back to the car and tell me what a bad idea this was.
“I’ll admit,” Sadie says, “I knew your plan all along. Piss off your ex by fucking the preacher’s son and posting it online.
I did not foresee beating the shit out of him, though.”