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“Fuck,” I breathe. “Yes. Just like that.”

He works me with his tongue, his lips, exactly where I need him, and I brace my hands against the headboard above his cuffed wrists and ride his face. There’s no hesitation in him, no reservation. Just pure, focused attention on my pleasure, on getting me off, and the power of it combines with the physical sensation to push me higher, faster than I expected.

“Don’t stop,” I say, my voice breaking. “Don’t you dare fucking stop, you submissive little bitch. You keep eating until I fucking come.”

He doesn’t. He just keeps going, keeps licking and sucking and using his tongue, and when he makes this low groaning sound against me, the vibration sends me over the edge.

I come hard, my whole body going tight and then releasing, waves of pleasure rolling through me while I grind against his mouth and he keeps licking me through it, drawing it out until I’m shaking and oversensitive and have to pull away.

I’m breathing hard. My skin is flushed. My mind is half-blown from the intensity of it.

And he’s still hard. Still waiting. Still completely at my mercy.

“Good boy. Very good boy. I think it’s time for your reward,” I say.

I position myself over him, take his cock in my hand, and guide him to my pussy. I’m so wet from my orgasm that he slides in easily when I lower myself onto him, taking him all the way in one smooth motion.

We both moan. His is a deep groan of relief and pleasure. Mine is something wordless and raw and powerful. A sound I’ve never made before, but want to make many, many more times.

I ride him, slow at first, then faster, finding the rhythm that works, that hits me right where I need it. My hands find my breasts and I lean forward, letting them fall into his face, smothering him with them, and he turns his head and catches one nipple in his mouth and sucks hard.

“Fuck, Dylan. Fuck. I love your fucking cock.”

I’m riding him harder now, faster, chasing another orgasm even though I just had one. The angle is perfect. The stretch of him inside me is perfect. The way he’s completely helpless beneath me is perfect.

“I’m close,” he gasps against my breast. “June, I’m so close.”

“Come for me,” I say, my voice commanding even though I’m barely holding myself together. “Come inside me.”

He does. I feel him pulse inside me, feel the warmth of his release, and the sensation combined with everything else pushes me over the edge again. My second orgasm hits me harder than the first, a full-body wave that makes me cry out and clench around him, drawing out his pleasure while I ride through mine.

We collapse together, my weight on his chest, both of us breathing as if we’ve run miles. After a moment, I reach up and unlock the handcuffs, freeing his wrists. His arms come around me immediately, holding me close, and I let him.

We say nothing. Don’t need to. We just lay there, cooling down, coming back to ourselves.

Eventually, I shift to lie beside him, my head on his chest, and he wraps one arm around me. His other hand finds mine, and our fingers lace together.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

“For what?”

“For trusting me enough to do that. For taking control. For...” He pauses. “For letting me give you that.”

I don’t have words. So I just squeeze his hand and listen to his heartbeat beneath my ear.

My body is loose and satisfied. My mind is quiet in a way it hasn’t been in longer than I can remember. And lying here with his arm around me and the roses on the pillow beside us and the memory of everything we just did, I feel something that’s been missing for so long I almost forgot what it felt like.

Hope.

New June is responsible. New June is strong. New June can threaten veterinarians and rob drug dealers and dominate her ex-boyfriend during sex and make him call her Mistress and mean it.

New June can take care of herself.

And maybe, just maybe, New June can have this. Can have someone who respects her and trusts her and buys her cheap roses from a pharmacy because he doesn’t know what else to do, but he wants to do something.

I close my eyes and let myself sink into sleep, still smiling, still hoping.

Hoping this isn’t a dream.