I let my eyes close as she wraps her hot mouth around my cock, licking up the syrup like a good little submissive. She doesn’t show any sign of wanting to stop, even when the syrup is all gone. I let her continue to suck me off, occasionally adding more syrup to my cock when I think she’s done a good enough job to deserve the sweet reward, but my own appetite eventually gets the better of me.

I want to see Miley moaning and begging me for more. I want her so fucking horny that her juices are leaking from that tight little pussy and she can’t keep her moans quiet.

I dip the spoon in the syrup and pull away, loving the pouty look she gives when I take my cock from her. I drizzle syrup across her tits and her stomach, all the way down to the creases where her legs meet her pussy. Once I’m done, I add a dollop of whipped cream to her nipples and mound for no other reason than the fact that I love the taste. And I know the cold contrast will add another layer to her experience.

She writhes in the most sexy fucking way imaginable, constantly biting her full bottom lip and letting it pop back out all pink and flushed. I dip my thumb in the chocolate and smear it across her lips before sucking them into my mouth and licking her clean. I kiss my way from her jaw down to her neck and her tits, licking and kissing up every last drop of syrup and cream, taking my time as I do, knowing she’s loving every last second of it.

By the time I reach her lower stomach, she’s gasping and squirming against me, hips rising off the bed in her desperation to have my attention on her pussy. My cock throbs just thinking how wet she must already be for me and how good it would feel to bury myself inside her again. Not yet, though. Soon, but not yet.

I run my tongue down her mound, paying special attention to the syrup that found its way into the crease between her pussy and inner thigh, letting my tongue move so close to her folds that she must be ready to lose her mind.

“Please, sir,” she gasps. “I need it.”

I look up from between her legs, enjoying the view of her body still glistening from the work I’ve done cleaning her up and her hands cuffed to the headboard above her head. “Tell me what you need, princess. Beg me for it.”

“I need your mouth. Your cock. Your fingers. Whatever you’ll give me. But I need to cum so bad it hurts.”

“Since you forgot to call me Sir,” I say tauntingly. “It’s going to keep hurting a little longer.”

I scoop out some whipped cream and smear it on her toes, which I take into my mouth and suck clean one by one. She closes her eyes and presses her head back into the pillows, lips parting beautifully for me. I let my eyes wander to her slick pussy, which looks so undeniably ready for my cock that I know I’ve reached the limits of my patience. I need to have her, to take her, to own every fucking inch of her tight little hole.

I grab a condom from beside the bed and slip it on, noticing an odd expression on Miley’s face as I do. Maybe she was hoping I’d take her unprotected again, but I can’t take the chance. That was a mistake. A reckless mistake. I can’t afford to get Miley pregnant and risk her health because of my selfish desire to have a child. Maybe that’s over-the-top, but the guilt I feel over my mother’s death sticks with me every day of my life. Along with it comes the fear that I could do the same thing to the woman I love.

No fucking way. No kids. No pregnancy. No risk to my princess. I don’t care how good her having my baby might sound. It’s just not a risk I can take. So she can give me that pouty look all she wants, but I’m wearing a rubber.

Her disappointment is forgotten when I grip the base of my cock and give it to her in one powerful thrust. She takes in a quick burst of air through her nose and her eyes shoot open. I know she’ll feel a slight pain from being entered so suddenly, a stretching sensation maybe, but it will pass. When it does, the pleasure will seem that much more intense by contrast.

“You like that, princess?” I ask.

“Mhmm,” she moans.

I bend my neck to suck her nipple into my mouth, biting slightly before I pull away. It should sting for a moment--long enough to remind her to fucking call me Sir.

“Sir,” she says like a good girl.

I grin, pulling her legs up higher so I can get even deeper inside her. She digs her heels into my ass, pulling me in with each thrust, begging me for every inch of cock I’ll give her and more.

“Jayce,” she gasps.

I want to draw this out, to make her wait for more, to make her beg until her throat is hoarse, but I can’t stop myself. I drive myself into her again and again, drawing out the most delicious moans from her with every thrust of my hips. When I feel her walls tighten around me and her body tenses, my own orgasm comes roaring from me. I keep fucking her until I’ve emptied every last drop of my cum inside the condom and she’s lying breathless and still.

Once I’ve thrown away the condom and slipped my pants back on, I move back to Miley, who is waiting so beautifully for me on the bed with her hands still cuffed. I unlock them and check her wrists for any sign of bruising or chafing. There’s a slight indent from where the cuffs pressed into the base of her palms, so I apply lotion and rub the area until I see some of the color return to her skin.

“I like how you look after me when we’ve finished, sir,” she says.

I favor her with a smile to let her know she did well remembering to pay me the proper respect. For once. But I actually enjoy that she’s still prone to moments of defiance. My idea of the perfect submissive has always been one who wants to please me above all else, but who also has a mischievous side and tempts my wrath from time to time. As with everything else, Miley fits the mold of what I want perfectly in that regard.

“Of course,” I say, moving my attention now to all the places I dripped wax across her body. Her skin is slightly pink in some areas. It would pass in a few minutes without my help, but I take the excuse to apply more lotion to my hands and rub it into her soft skin, spending more time than I need to on her breasts. “What we do together is about control, above all else. I don’t expect that I will ever do anything to cause you true harm, but it’s important for me to make sure there were no accidents. No rashes, no bruises, no cuts. I have to be sure you’re as perfect as you were the moment you submitted to me.”

“Well, I like it,” she says, smiling up at me. “It feels nice. I never really had this kind of gentleness in my life. My dad was always hard on us. So hard,” she says, looking distantly toward a group of candles by the wall. “Nothing ever made him happy. He demanded so much and I think for a long time I tried to make him happy. I wanted to be his good little girl because I was silly enough to think that was the problem. He wasn’t abusive because he was just an asshole to me back then, it was because I wasn’t ever good enough. But when I would do exactly what he wanted, he always seemed to change the rules at the last minute. That was the thing. I could never win. I could never make him happy. Eventually, I figured out the truth, but it was only after so many wasted years.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, cupping her cheek and kissing her forehead. “You know you’ve pleased me very much tonight though, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir,” she says, smiling shyly at me. Her expression fades into dejection as she looks down. “I must sound so creepy right now. Like I’m using you as some kind of substitute for my dad that I could never please, but--”

“No,” I say. “It’s not creepy or strange. It’s normal. Everybody has unresolved issues from their past, and if they say they don’t, they’re either lying or oblivious. Hell, I think that’s most of the point in being an adult. You’re trying to find a way to move beyond the demons in your past, whatever way that is. Some people ignore them, some embrace them, and some overcome them. This is an outlet for you, Miley. It’s cathartic because it helps you heal. Never be ashamed of that. Do you understand me? That’s a command,” I add with a little mock seriousness.

She flashes me a crooked smile, nodding her head but wiping at her eyes.

“I mean it,” I say, cupping her face and lifting her chin so she’s looking at me. I wipe a tear from the corner of her eye and kiss her tenderly, longingly. “This is what you need it to be. There’s never any reason to be ashamed of that.”

“What is it for you?” she asks.

I chuckle, letting my hands fall and taking my turn studying the ground. She’s perceptive, I’ll give her that, but right now I wish she wasn’t. I can’t exactly tell her to embrace her past and how good a thing it is while also hiding my own from her. So I suck up my reluctance and start talking.

“For me? I think there are two parts to it. On one hand, it lets the little, skinny kid from my past take control. There were times when I looked at my life and how everything was happening around me and I’d just think how I had no power over any of it. Things could go to complete shit, and it wouldn’t matter how hard I wanted or tried, it’d happen anyway. So maybe part of it is right there. This world is a place where I can take that control back. And if I can take control here, it helps me feel like there’s a little more sense to the rest of it, I guess.”

She nods. “That makes sense. And what is the other part?”

“The other part is that I thought one day I’d find a submissive who needed something very specific from her dom. Not just sex. Not just cold domination. Not even just passion. I wanted a submissive who was nearly broken and at the edge of her ability to resist. Someone beautifully flawed--just barely holding on when it seemed like everything was out of her control and the world didn’t care how much she wanted or tried. I wanted to find that woman and show her there is control. There is order. There is a place where she can let go and trust in someone else to be her guide. I wanted to find you,” I say.

More tears well in her eyes and she leans her head down onto my shoulder, wrapping her small arms around my back.

“You’re the one I’ve been looking for all this time,” I whisper. “My perfect submissive. My perfect woman. The woman I love,” I say.

My own words send a cold shock through me. I hadn’t planned to say so much, to reveal everything like I just did. But now that the words have come out of me, I feel the expectation hanging between us like electricity. Will she say it too? Can she?

She’s crying harder now. Fuck, I think. My stomach is sinking and feels cold. She doesn’t feel the same way. As much as I’ve read into her thoughts and behavior, I’ve been wrong. I was so sure everything between us was mutual, and now I’ve laid it out on the table and she’s flinching, unwilling to commit to what I’ve offered her.

“I’m so sorry,” she says suddenly, pulling away and getting off the bed to find her clothes, which she hastily slips back into. “I can’t be what you need me to be. I want it. I really do. But it wouldn’t last forever. It couldn’t.”

I’m too stunned to speak. I can only watch as she moves to the door and takes one last, longing look back at me. In that moment I can see she’s about to say something, and I lean forward, waiting for the words because my own won’t seem to come.

Her expression changes and she looks back toward the door, stepping halfway out to the hallway. “I’m sorry,” she says again before closing the door.

The door closing snaps me out of my surprise. I jump up from the bed and chase after her, not even taking the time to put my shirt back on. I see just a glimpse of her heel disappearing out of view at the end of the hallway and run to catch up with her.

She’s moving down the stairs as fast as she can, making me nervous as hell that she’s going to trip and fall down in her hurry to get away from me.

Fuck. The thought makes my stomach turn. Somehow, some way I turned into the thing I wanted to protect her from, the kind of thing that made her want to run.

I catch up with her at the bottom of the stairs, drawing a fair amount of attention from my lack of a shirt, but it’s not the craziest thing people have seen at one of my parties, so their attention is only momentary.

“Miley,” I say once I’m just behind her and able to grab her arm.

She tries to pull away from me and I instinctively grip harder, not wanting her to get away before I can find out what’s wrong.

“Let go!” she cries, pulling again.

“Miley, just let me--” I say, reaching for her other arm.

She brings her hand up and slaps me hard enough that the sound rises above the music, making anyone who wasn’t already watching the spectacle stop what they’re doing to look now.

My hand falls away from her arm and she hurries outside, pulling out her phone--probably to call someone to come pick her up.

“At least let me give you a ride home,” I say, even as my cheek stings from the slap.

She gives me a look over her shoulder that I can’t entirely make sense of. I see sorrow and regret in her features, maybe fear. She closes the front door behind her, leaving me to feel that special kind of alone you can only feel in such a crowded place.

“You okay?” Leo asks squattingdown beside me at the bottom of the stairs.

I didn’t even realize I had sunk down to sit with my back against the bannister. I look over at him, ignoring the curious faces turned our way.

“Should I be?” I ask.

He chuckles, then sits down cross-legged in front of me, which is an odd sight to see from such a big man. It has been a long fucking time since Leo had to look out for me, but I can see him slipping back into the role effortlessly. He’s my big brother, and in so many ways he was always a shield for me. I thought I’d outgrown the need for that side of him, but Miley walking away makes it feel like someone just ripped a handful of my heart away.

“Depends,” he says. “Did you fuck up?”

“That’s what I’m asking myself,” I say distantly.

“Ah,” he says knowingly. “A mystery mistake?”

I nod.

“Damn,” he says. “Those are fucking tough. But hey, it can only be so many things, right?”

“Uh,” I say doubtfully. “She’s a woman, Leo. I’m pretty sure it can basically be any of the things.”

He grins. “I mean if you break it down by category of fuck ups. There’s really just a few broad categories when it comes to relationships. Think about it. You’ve got things you did, and things you didn’t do that she wanted you to. Oh, and things you said or things you didn’t say,” he adds, sounding a little less confident that this is as simple as he was making it sound. “And I guess there’s things she has come to realize you’ll never do--or things she realizes you’ll never stop doing. I’m not really helping, am I?”

I grin. “Not really.”

He makes a sour face, nodding. “Hey,” he says more seriously. “Just give her a couple days. I know you probably want to go kick her door down or some other heroically stupid kind of thing right now, but maybe she just needs a few days to appreciate how much happier she was when she was with you.”

“A couple days? Fuck, man. I was going to go over once she had time to get a ride home.”

Leo raises his eyebrows at me like a scornful parent. “So she runs away from you at the party, won’t even ride home with you, and you think she’s going to be happy to see you knocking at her door in an hour?”

“Dammit,” I growl, spearing a hand through my hair. “Then I’ll wait till tomorrow.”

“Jayce. I’m saying this because you’re my brother and I’m trying to look out for you. You’ve got to let her breathe for a couple days. Give it some time. You know what they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

“Yeah? Does your heart feel pretty fond for dad?” I ask.

Leo glares at me. “Did I say abandon her and never come back?”

I sigh. “So you’re suggesting I just wait?”

“At least a few days. Give her some time to cool off.”

“I’ll give her until tomorrow afternoon,” I say stonily.

Leo laughs. “Yeah. That’s probably about how long I’d be able to wait, too.” He claps me on the shoulder and stands. “You lovebirds will figure it out. Don’t worry.”