Tempting The Dominatrix

T H I R T Y - S E V E N

A bullet meant for someone else could lodge itself deep in my aorta and I would die happily. 

"Good morning, " I reply, my eyes having not left hers for a millisecond since they opened. 

Her eyes flutter open, and those dark brown eyes meet mine.

She smiles.

She smiles.

I'm the first thing she sees this morning, and her first reaction is one of the widest, toothiest, most genuine smiles I've ever seen in my life. 

There's no doubt about it. I must have been a saint in another life to deserve this.

"Give me a kiss," she breathes out, pursing her lips with her eyes still closed. 

I bite back a smile, lean in, and give her a soft peck to the lips. I don't want to pull back so soon, but the self-consciousness of my possible morning breath is blaring like an alarm in the back of my mind.

Still, as I pull away, she looks so fucking precious with the little half-sated smile of approval she gives me. 

Her eyes flutter open again, and she reaches out to brush her fingers through my hair. 

This. 

This is heaven. 

***

"Who the fuck put crack in your cheerios?" Oli's voice broke through my haze. I blinked a few times then realized that I made it back into my dorm room after one of V's drivers dropped me off. It took me a few more moments to realize that Oli was reacting to the fact that I was leaning against the door with a goofy grin stretching across my face and a hand still on the door knob.

"Huh?" Was my incredibly intelligent and coherent response to his stupid line of questioning – if you could even call it that.

He raised a single eyebrow before refocusing on his laptop. "You've been standing there for," he stops to check the watch strapped to his wrist, "3 minutes and 34, 35, 36 seconds." He states before continuing to type on his laptop.

My own brows furrowed and I tilted my head to the side.

"And how do you know the exact time?"

Without skipping a beat or even bothering to look up at me, he continues typing with a focus that, quite honestly alarmed me. "It's called deductive reasoning. You didn't come home last night, and judging by some of the previous interactions you've had with a certain leather clad, whip wielding, stern supermodel, I decided to come prepared this time."

Like a confused Labrador, my head cocks to the other side. "Huh?"

Usually I'd come up with more coherent responses, but those must have been fucked right out of me.

I blame the butt plug for my lack of conversational decorum. 

But like...

I'm definitely not mad at it. 

He releases a sigh of what I can only assume to be false indignation and pushes his laptop to the side, finally holding eye contact with me for the first time since I entered the room. 

Every other time you come back from seeing her, you look like you've simultaneously seen, fucked, and slaughtered the devil."

My eyes pop wide, utter confusion helping stir me from my temporary state of flabbergast. I begin unpacking my bag and throwing all the dirty clothes in the small laundry hamper in my closet.

"And how do you figure?" I ask, a lilt to my voice, incredibly curious to see where he was going with his statement.

He erupts in a deep belly laugh, yet it still falls short of the one's I know to be trademark Oli laughs. I brush it aside, not giving myself the chance to stray from the fact that I am one of the luckiest men to ever exist because...