In His Bed (18+)

Chapter 14

I woke from a light doze to find Jason with my feet in his lap, idly rubbing first one and then the other.

A warm languor seeped into my bones, and I stretched, bare skin sliding against the sheets.

Smiling, I asked, "So, is this your way of telling me you're into feet too?"

He shook his head, "No – not particularly, at least. I just thought it would be a nice way to wake you up."

I leaned my head back, luxuriating in his attention and the deft skill of his hands.

"So," he began, "are you ready to have that conversation yet?"

My forehead creased with puzzlement, and then I remembered: last night, during the call, I'd brought up the subject of punishment...

Blushing, I looked away. "I wasn't that serious. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

Jason's hands stopped, and he asked, "Who said I didn't want to?"

"It's just – I don't even know if I'm going to like it." I shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. "There's just some things that I've wanted to try, but I've never really had the chance to explore them."

Jason smiled, squeezing the ball of my foot. "If you want to explore, then I'd love to be the person you explore with."

My thoughts ran through all of the half-baked fantasies brewing in my head, dizzy at the prospect of getting to act them out in the flesh.

I licked my lips. "Maybe you should wait to say that until you hear some of the things I want to try."

Jason rolled his eyes, chuckling. "Okay, this is the point in the conversation where we put our clothes back on and go negotiate in the kitchen.

I let my gaze roam down his finely muscled form. "I mean, do we have to?"

"Yes," he answered, hand straying up the curve of my calf, "because I can't think straight with your pussy on display like this."

Groaning, I sat up. "Fine – but I'm going to need my underwear back."

Jason snorted, "Baby, you're never getting those back."

Glaring at him, I stepped off of the bed and leaned down to snatch up his discarded dress shirt. "Fine. Then I'm wearing this."

Walking over, Jason watched as I slipped my arms in the sleeves and began to button the front. Stilling my hands, he took the lapels from me and slowly worked his way up, knuckles grazing the mounds of my breasts.

Leaving only the top button undone, he leaned in and gently kissed my forehead.

"Why don't you go and get the kettle started? I'll be out in a minute and make us some tea."

I smiled. "Make mine cocoa."

He smirked. "Deal."

Jason slid a steaming mug onto the counter in front of me, little white marshmallows bobbing in a warm, brown sea. I shook my head, amused.

Perched on a stool at the breakfast bar, I watched as Jason took his own mug, hating every inch of clothing that hid him from my eyes.

"So, what is it that you want to try?"

I felt my blush begin to roast me from the inside out. "I – it's honestly so basic. Like, it's not vanilla but it's basically vanilla." I shook my head, "It's fucking French vanilla-"