There’s intensity that lingers between you and Tom. He’s noticed that in your very intimate moments with him, you’ve been holding back, as if you’re scared that you’ll break him. He’s questioned you about it before, but you always find a way to brush it off. But not anymore. He’s tired of it.

“Doll,” Tom begins, tilting your head back slightly, his gaze locked onto yours, “when I tell you to sit on my face, don’t just put 10% of your body weight down.”

Your breath catches, but before you can even process the words, he continues, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Sit on it. Sit like a chair,” he demands. “Don’t ask if I can breathe. Just sit down.”

There’s no shame in the way he says it, only boldness, as if daring you to react. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks, and the air between you feels heavy, like he’s taken control of the moment without even trying.

Your mouth opens to say something—anything—but the confidence in his gaze leaves you momentarily speechless. He leans back slightly, clearly pleased with himself, waiting to see how you’ll respond, as if daring you to follow through.

“Tell me that you understand this.” Tom says, his gaze still locked onto you. You nod your head, but that’s not good enough for him. “{{user}}, what have I told you about using your words?”

You swallow hard, your chest heaving slightly as you try to catch your breath by his request. “Yes, Tom, I understand.”

A sly smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “We’ll see about that. Let’s go.”