Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 95046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
I have half-asleep monologues about marsupials and their evolutionary advantages while I sit behind her in the tub, carefully washing her body, my hands moving with deliberate gentleness as she sways slightly, exhausted and trusting.
I have her warmth pressed against me in my bed every single night—not because I commanded it, not because some elaborate ritual demanded it, not because I orchestrated some psychological game to manufacture her compliance, but because when I asked if she wanted to sleep next to me or down in the dungeon, she went on a five-minute spiral about how she's not the doomed gothic heroine who chooses the creepy attic over the warm bed with the hot mobster boyfriend, she's seen enough horror movies to know that's how you end up possessed or married to Rochester's first wife or whatever, and she's already got enough trauma without adding "slept alone in a sex dungeon for aesthetic reasons" to her therapy checklist, plus the thread count up here is like a thousand and she's not an animal, Giovanni, she has standards, and also I'm warm and the dungeon is cold and she's from Cleveland not Antarctica—then climbed into bed and fell asleep mid-sentence with her face pressed against my chest.
All she wants from me is… me.
And that's all I want from her too.
Just her.
This is what I have.
My Little Miss Take.
Because somewhere between learning to engineer her submission and perfecting the machinery of her obedience I forgot that control was never about what you take, it's about what people give you, what you allow to simply exist without your hands wrapped around its throat, and maybe—maybe—the most powerful thing I've ever done is let this one small chaotic woman make her own catastrophically bad decision to love me without trying to dissect why, or how, or restructure the entire foundation of her choice until it fits into my framework of dominance and submission, because she doesn't fit, she never fit, she just is, and I've spent my whole life trying to cage things, only to realize…
You can't cage sea glass.
It just… rolls.
Also. Surrender is the purest form of power.
And that's what this is.
I surrendered.
Will I always be able to contain the monster?
Better question is… would Emmaleen want me to?
I sigh, smile, and sink down into my own, warm bed, holding the woman I love.
Would Jino be training her to deep throat if she did?