Page 73 of Weston’s Treasure

“Not intentionally,” he conceded. “But I…”

“You what?”

“Tend to lose control when we’re together. I don’t ever want to do something you don’t want to do, or hurt you, or make you uncomfortable.”

“You don’t. Where’s this coming from?”

He blew out a breath and I didn’t like my big, strong Weston sounding unsure. He was never unsure, he was always in control. Always strong.

“I’m sure it’s not lost on you I know what I like. I have no problem asking for it, demanding it even.” I nodded against his chest because it wasn’t lost on me he was bossy in the bedroom and I loved it. “I don’t want to talk about my past but to say, I’m finding I’m different with you.”

“Different how?” I asked, but hoped he didn’t give me examples because I really didn’t want to hear about the women he’d been with.

“Different in a way, that when I’m demanding, I seriously get off on it.”

It was safe to say, I was not understanding.

“What does that mean?”

“Babe, when you are naked, my mouth on you, my cock inside of you, something deep inside of me clicks into place. When I tell you to spread your legs for me and you look at me and all I see is trust staring back, and you open yourself up to me, it fills something I didn’t know was missing. But then I want to demand more. I want to push you and see how far that trust extends. Every time I ask something of you and you do it, swear to God it’s a gift, but I want to take more. I want my hands fisting your hair while I fuck your mouth. I want to hear the crack of my palm when it rains down on your ass. I want shit I never thought I did, and moreover, I want it so fucking badly, it scares the shit out of me. I don’t ever want to lose control and hurt you.”

I took a moment and waited for the mini-orgasm from his words to subside while I tried and failed to find the words I needed in order to explain—not only wasn’t I worried he’d ever hurt me, but I was turned way the hell on.

In the end, I found I couldn’t find the words, so I did something bold. Something that before Weston, before he showed me he liked—no, loved—me for who I was, I’d never be able to do.

I climbed atop him, my hands going to his chest, and I kept my center off his lap.

“Touch me.” His head tilted to the side in question and I sucked in a breath preparing to say something I’d never said outside of making love to Weston. “Take your fingers and touch my pussy.”

Immediately. Instantly. His brown eyes heated and he was gonna miss my point if he didn’t hurry because that look alone was turning me on more.

Weston’s hand moved, his finger teased my opening, and his heat turned into hunger.

“Fucking drenched,” he growled and I shivered.

I nodded.

“You trust me to take you where I want to go?”

I nodded again.

“I need the words, Silver.”

“Yes. I trust you.”

“Grab my cock, and guide me inside.”

With my hand shaking and my body trembling I did what Weston asked. His hands clamped onto my hips, stopping me from slamming down.

“Slow, baby.”

He didn’t let go as I slid onto his cock slowly. His eyes flashed approval when I waited for him to tell me what he wanted next.

“I want you to ride me nice and slow, with your fingers on your clit.”

My pussy spasmed and his face got tight. “Fuck, but I love that.”

I knew he did, I did, too. I loved more that he told me he did. Every time it happened he didn’t hide his appreciation.