Vanilla. Megan Hart

      “I want to kiss you,” he told me, “there.”

      “Here,” I replied, easing up my skirt to show him a hint of lace panties. I pressed my fingertips between my legs and raised an eyebrow.

      “Please,” he added.

      “Maybe.” I laughed at his frustrated expression. I leaned to take his face in my hands, looking into his eyes. “You are adorable.”

      He tilted his head, his eyes half closing for a moment. “I want to please you.”

      “I know you do. And I want your mouth on me—” I laughed softly again at his shudder. “But not just yet. Get on the bed.”

      Esteban blinked a few times, not responding immediately. I was ready for that, my hand already grabbing the ribbon tangled around his cock and tugging in sharp command. The tug wouldn’t hurt him as much as my disapproval at how long it took him to get to his feet.

      If you’ve ever tried to get up from your knees with your hands bound without pushing off from anything, you know how awkward and graceless it can be. Far from impossible, especially when the binding was mostly decorative. But still, he hated to be clumsy, which was part of the reason I yanked again, urging him to get up faster without taking the time to balance himself. We ended up standing face-to-face, my fingers still curled in the ribbon. In my heels I was an inch or so taller than he was, the perfect height to look down instead of straight on. I’d done that on purpose, too.

      “Do you need me to repeat myself, Esteban?”

      “No, miss.”

      “Tell me again what you want,” I said.

      “I want to please you.”

      Fuck, how I loved the shiver in his voice. Later, I would make him say it to me in Spanish. I would make him teach me how to reply, and we would both laugh at how I butchered the words. In this moment, though, there was no laughter.

      Only anticipation.

      I stepped away from him, and his body rocked forward as I pulled the ribbon free and let it fall to the floor. It had been a whim, something pretty to start off with. I’d seen it on sale at the craft supply store while on an errand for my mother and had thought of Esteban immediately. I’d caught myself thinking of him more and more often in the times between our dates. I didn’t want to consider the reasons why.

      “I want you on your back,” I told him.

      He took a step backward, then another, before turning to crawl up onto the bed. He’d stripped the comforter off before I arrived, and I took a moment to enjoy the view of a beautiful, obedient male sprawled out on crisp white sheets before going to the array of things I’d already set out on the desk.

      I’d picked up the ribbon because it had been a little playful, and the thought of making a gift of him to myself had pleased me. The sleek, smooth object I had in my hand, however, had not been an impulse purchase. I’d taken a long time to research it, making sure I picked the right one. Molded of heavy tempered glass, the heft of it was enough to cause serious damage if you dropped it on your foot...or your balls. It didn’t look like a sex toy as much as some sort of avant-garde sculpture, clear glass swirled with blue, red and orange. Cool to the touch, it would warm nicely to body temperature. You could wash it in the dishwasher, according to the product description, though the idea of that made me shake my head. I had a similar toy at home, longer and a little thicker, but the curve of this one had been designed to perfectly caress the prostate. This toy was not for me.

      With the glass plug in one hand and a bottle of lube in the other, I knelt on the bed between Esteban’s legs. “I brought you another present.”

      He pushed up on his elbows to look and grinned. “What is this?”

      “You know what this is.” I put the lube on the bed and ran my hand up the inside of his thigh. He shaved his chest and his balls, but here the fine black hairs tickled my knuckles. I stroked my fingertip along his cock, then lower.

      His knees fell open at once, giving me access to his body. When I cupped his balls, Esteban gave another of those delicious, low gasps. His hips rolled.

      “Look at your pretty cock, already leaking for me.” I circled a finger around the head of it, drawing the slick precome onto my fingertip and holding it up. Locking his gaze to mine, I licked it away. It was a bit of a show for him, to trigger another of those noises, but no lie, the fact that he was so hard, so aroused that he dripped for me before I’d barely touched him, never failed to set me on fire.

      “Tell me what you want,” I demanded again, but soft and low, my voice a caress and not a slap.

      Esteban shifted on the bed, his feet going flat on it as the space between his knees widened. His fists gripped the sheets, but he knew better than to reach for me. For a second I wished he’d try—I would never truly hurt him, but discipline him? Oh, yes. We could do that.

      “I want to see you,” he said.

      I pretended to consider it, holding up the glass plug while I used the other hand to play with the buttons on my blouse. One, two, exposing a hint of nipple. The beauty of small breasts is being able to go without a bra, something which Esteban had once admitted to me drove him wild with lust. I stopped. He groaned. I laughed, and so did he. I put my free hand on his belly and the one holding the plug on the bed to support myself as I leaned over him, letting my mouth brush his chin before I nipped him.

      “No,” I told him. “You haven’t earned it yet today.”

      He did reach for me then. His hands moved over my thighs and hips, bunching my skirt. He kissed my cheek then my jaw, and found my throat where he nibbled and sucked the way I loved it.

      “I can convince you?” he asked into my ear, stroking his hand upward to cup my breasts. Thumbing my nipples through the thin fabric of my blouse, he moaned softly when they hardened at his caress. “So much easier to touch you...”

      I slapped his face lightly and gripped his chin, digging the blunt tips of my nails into his flesh. Esteban’s eyes closed immediately. His body tensed. His arms went over his head, fingers linking his hands.

      I almost came, then and there, his reaction a better aphrodisiac than anything in the world.

      “You will touch me when I say you may touch me.” My voice low. Dangerous. Stern.

      “Yes, my goddess.”

      “Fuck, I love it when you say that.” My fingers loosed their grip, leaving a few marks I soothed quickly with my tongue. I sat back. “Look at me.”

      He did.

      I shifted between his legs then straddled one of his thighs to press my pussy against him. I was wet through the lace. I held up the lube and the glass toy.

      His cock jumped. So did the muscles on his inner thighs. And, a moment later when I pressed a slick finger against his tight hole, so did the muscles there.

      It wasn’t the first time I’d ever played with his ass. One of the first things we’d talked about when we started this relationship was turn-ons and -offs. Limits, hard and soft. Expectations. Safe words. We’d been practical about it, making lists. Our agreement wasn’t anything that would stand up in court, but it was one we’d worked on carefully to be sure it suited us both. Realistic, maybe to a fault.

      This was not a love affair.

      It was, however, the first time I’d ever used an object on him instead of only fingers or tongue. Esteban had told me his fantasies about being taken that way, and though on the surface what we had together might appear to be all about what I wanted, it was truly about satisfaction for both of us. He wanted to please me; I got off on being pleased. But more than that, I reveled in the way the smallest things I did to him got him hard. Made him ache. I loved making him come for me, his orgasms like a tribute. Something he owed me and I deserved.

      I warmed the toy’s chilly glass against my hot flesh while I ran my nails, scratching,