Unconditional Dominance

What Kind Are You?

Keeley's POV

It was strange to me that I could do no more than look at him, laying there in the pallet of blankets, bare, trembling—I felt as if I were floating as his eyes tenderly held mine. Something about me felt terribly delicate, as if I could tear so easily until this feeling passed. But while his fingers were caressing the rise and fall of my cheekbones, I wasn't sure I had ever felt safer in my entire life. Here, in the arms of the enemy, I felt...whole.

I'm not sure if the world stopped for us, but nothing else felt more important in that moment. Not the war, not seeing Lottie, not even my fear of Liam. I could see nothing but him, and I could feel nothing but him—the way his hands touched every inch of me, dragging gently from my cheeks to my shoulders, down the dip of the collarbone, tickling the length of my arm, counting each rib in my side, tracing the lines of my hips... I would have never dreamed of being touched like this, not in a million lifetimes.

"Pretty girl," he whispered, his hand returning to my face to cup my jaw and caress my chin. He smoothed his thumb across my lips before lowering his head and kissing me. It was sweet, gentle, and slow, and I melted beneath him.

I wasn't cold, but I was suddenly aware of how naked I was, so I tried to push myself up to retrieve my shirt and vest. Dawson tutted disapprovingly, and wide-eyed, I froze.

"I wasn't finished admiring you, little one."

Lowering me back to the pallet, Dawson stretched me out before smoothing his hands over my breasts. So sensitive, I jumped a bit, but I stayed still for him as he 'admired' me. I bit my lip as I watched him, his eyes following the trail of his hand as he lifted each breast before lowering his head and putting his mouth on them, one at a time.

A little lightning bolt struck my belly, just like before when he touched me as erotically as he had. My eyes closed, the small of my back came off the pallet ever so slightly, and I moaned. His mouth was hot on my nipple, and his tongue teased the aching bud until I struggled to keep still. My knees lifted and dropped, my feet sliding back and forth in the blankets, my neck straight, my head back, my fists in the pallet—I wasn't sure if there was a better feeling in the world than this.

"So sensitive aren't you?" Dawson murmured against my breast. He drew my nipple into his mouth and I whined. While he deliciously tortured me with his mouth, his hand skimmed its way down my belly. His fingers found the place that had begun aching again, and they worked to ease the discomfort. Within seconds, I was breathless. Then his fingers moved a little lower and I felt the pressure of one of his long digits pressing into me. And just when I didn't think anything could feel better than what he had just done to me, my eyes were rolling back into my head, and I found myself unable to breathe.

The pleasure of being filled... This, I decided, was the greatest feeling in the world.

With his free hand, Dawson lifted one of my legs, bending them at the knee and pushing it far away so I was embarrassingly available to him. Despite the pleasure he was giving me, I felt self conscious, and with a whimper I tried to close my legs.

He tutted disapprovingly again, and that sound had such an effect on me, I felt something strike low and powerful in my belly.

"Keep them open," he ordered gently as he pressed his finger in and out of me at a torturously slow pace. Whining nervously I did as I was told. "Good girl," he praised, his voice husky and humming against my breast. It made me tremble. I felt so undone by his voice alone. Light exploded behind my eyes as the pleasure expanded in the deepest part of me, and I couldn't breathe. I had never felt anything so remarkable.

And then a shudder of absolute ecstasy drove through my body and a whine that didn't even sound like me exploded from my throat. It dragged on and on and I didn't recognize myself as I whimpered, cried, and writhed as every inch of me burned with a fire only he could extinguish.