Free Disgrace by Dee Palmer

every level.
    “What are you, Sam?” His throat obviously constricts, and he slowly swallows. The gravely words escape on a whisper.
    “Yours.” I raise my chin and meet his gaze. I feel a fire burn inside me, a scorching flame, fuelling the sort of strength I know I am going to need… if I am, in fact… his.
    “Mine.” He cups my neck and swoops in to steal a kiss that takes us both by surprise with its intensity and urgency. He rests his forehead against mine while we both regain our breath. He runs his hands down the length of the necklace then twists and loops it until it is wrapped several times around my neck. He unclips it to make the last few loops. The single strand is now a tight choker, holding my neck straight and high. “Safe word, Sam, what’s your safe word?” His lips are at my ear, and his cool breath chills my skin, goosebumps dance on the surface like little beacons of panic.
    “You said we’d go slow, Jason.” My voice is pitched with worry, and his hand instantly soothes with a gentle stroke down my cheek. He plants a tender kiss on my lips.
    “We will go slow but I want you to be able to stop this if it even gets to be a little too much. I am not going to ruin this opportunity with my impatience…” I nod with relief and understanding. “So a safe word?” he repeats.
    “Switch,” I say after a moment of thought. I struggle to swallow, my throat is so dry. Honestly, I can’t remember a time when I’ve felt so conflicted, so turned on, so alive. I have been numb for so long I no longer have the strength or will to fight this pure desire saturating my soul.
    He gives a curt nod and flashes a wicked smile. He slips two fingers through the choker tightening it and restricting my breath in one move. I gasp, my body tenses, and my muscles flex against the restraints. I feel the intensity of my desire like a molten pool of liquid building in my core. My eyes widen when the next whispered words cut the sexual tension with a precision scalpel.
    “Not anymore, Sub.”

 
    J esus, I am a lucky man. I’d pinch myself right now if I thought she wouldn’t notice. She notices everything; her eyes are bright and curious, scrutinising my every move. Dark pools of desire blend with a mixture of wide-eyed innocence and trust. That fucking trust is what makes me the luckiest man alive. She may have reservations about the role I want her to play but she trusts me enough to try, and that is such a fucking turn-on. She’s not just a Domme; she the best damn Domme in the city, and I have her tied up and trembling.
    Luckiest. Fucking. Man Alive.
    I stand inches from her naked body, naked save for the diamond choker I bought with her delicate neck in mind. My jeans hang loose, and I ditched my shirt the moment I sat down to watch her strip. The heat between us is charged, and tiny sparks like a live current jump the sliver of distance between our bodies. I draw in a deep breath. I can smell her arousal, and she is intoxicating, sweet, and sinful. My hand is still twisted into her collar, and with the smallest clench of my fist, I can restrict her airway, but my hand is relaxed…for now.
    I place my finger on her mouth and push between her soft, full lips. Her sweet little tongue eagerly wraps around my digit, and she sucks me in on a moan. My cock hardens, uncomfortably restricted in my jeans, but this feels so good. I pull from her mouth and draw the wet tip of my finger along her collarbone and slowly down between her breasts. Her gaze never leaves mine but her lids flutter closed when I reach the tiny landing strip of hair pointing directly to her centre. I sink my hand between her legs and swirl my thumb in a steady pattern around her clit. Her breath hitches, and she bites back a whimper that lurks at the back of her throat. I bite my own lips to keep from smiling but flash a wicked grin when I sink two fingers into her fresh wetness. That whimper she tried to hold back escapes, and her hips sink