She dreamed of Aydin. The deep, patient wells of his dark eyes crinkled at the edges, his slow smiles, the way his blunt fingers skimmed across the smooth porcelain surface of the cafe's cup- every detail of him had settled into her mind like a promise. She woke with her lips curving up, and her back ready to stretch in an arch.
Basking lazily in the morning light that beamed through her bedroom window, she debated the merits of masturbating to her dream Aydin before she saw him today. It was a bad habit from her early 20s. Fantasizing about how good the sex would be, about how deeply connected she would feel to her partner. It's what primed her to fall for Jason despite the gaping hole where the emotional intimacy should've been.
She huffed out a frustrated breath. She did not want to think about Jason today. Mentally shaking herself, she reached for her phone. Not texting Aydin anymore yesterday had been a big effort, but she wanted to take things slowly. Unlocking her screen, she was pleased to see that she had three missed messages. Tapping her messaging app, Brianna sighed in disappointment. They were all from Jason. Biting her lip, she opened the thread.
Jason: Want to come over for breakfast?
Jason: //Dick pic//
Jason: It's ready for you whenever you're ready.
Brianna glared down at her screen. What the fuck was wrong with her? Why would she consider going there? Was she really that desperate?
Leaving Jason on read, she threw herself out of bed and yanked on a workout set. Maybe she could work off some of her sexual energy at the gym, instead of spending the day panting after Jason's dick.
**************
The morning, then afternoon, crawled by. Brianna waited until noon to send an "are we still on?" text to Aydin. At 2 pm, she sent a double question mark. By 4 pm, she disappointed, frustrated, and in the process of mentally writing him off. She sat on her kitchen counter, back kinked awkwardly as she scrubbed her backsplash and yellowed grout behind the sink. It was a nasty area of the apartment that hadn't responded to baking soda, vinegar, or bleach. Brianna scrubbed and cursed her taste in unavailable men, and scrubbed some more.
At 4:30, her phone buzzed on the counter. With a huff, she grabbed the phone and stared down at Aydin's name.
"Yes?" she answered, her voice flat.
A soft sigh traveled through the phone. "I owe you an apology. I'm sorry. I had--" Aydin said.
"You don't owe me anything," she interrupted. "We had a plan. It wasn't a priority for you. No explanations necessary."
"I had an emergency with a patient. I was at the hospital all night."
His low, sad voice tugged at Brianna. She hesitated. "And your phone stopped working? You couldn't send a text?" She gripped the edge of the island, shoulders rigid, as she waited for his reply.
"I got home at 10 this morning. I didn't mean to fall asleep without calling. A text felt," he paused, "inadequate."
Brianna blew a wisp of hair off her face, discomfited. "It's whatever. Not that serious."
His voice was like molten chocolate. He murmured, "It is serious. Your time is valuable, and I don't want to disappoint you."
"It's fine."
Silence dangled between them.
"I still want to see you today," Aydin said. "Am I too late?"
Brianna felt nervous, panicked. She didn't want him thinking she'd waited on him all day. She didn't want to miss the chance to see him again. It made her angry and defensive. She'd been hurt too much, too often.
"Look, I was just trying to get laid," she said harshly. "Let's not make it more than it is. I don't need my goddamn hand held. Don't patronize me."
In the silence that fell, she winced a little. She was being unfair, and she knew it.
"Hm," Aydin said after a pause. "Come, take what you want, then. I'll text you the address. See you soon, little one."
**************
Aydin sipped his coffee, gazing into the fire in his living room while he lounged on the couch. Three hours had passed since he'd spoken with Brianna. He bided his time, waiting to find out if she would stand him up or not. He found her anger and her tardiness exhilarating.
It had been several years since he had a consistent, exclusive submissive. Her interest in him despite the age gap, and that hickey on her neck, initially piqued his interest. He'd fantasized about pleasuring her sweetly, luring her into a relationship of trust, and then slowly introducing her to domination in the bedroom. But no more. If she had to be his brat before he made her his princess, so be it.
In front of Aydin, a full Turkish coffee service sprawled across the coffee table. The wood handled copper pot gleamed alongside the filigree cup and saucer he'd set out for Brianna. The coffee he'd made for her in anticipation of her arrival had long since cooled. Pistachio and pomegranate Turkish delight filled a matching decorative bowl on the tray. The longer he waited for her to arrive, the less inclined he was to make her a fresh cup.
A crisp rap came at his front door, and he smiled. She'd been too angry about his lack of communication earlier. It implied that she wanted very much to see him. It pleased him. He wouldn't go slow, wouldn't tamp down his urges. She had come, and she was his, whether or not she knew it.
He opened the front door and stepped aside so she could hurry in out of the winter cold.
"Glad you made it," he murmured. "It's snowing again."
"Busy day," she muttered off-handedly, looking away as she shrugged out of her coat.
"Don't do that," he said, lifting her chin so that her caramel eyes met his. "No lying, not to me."
He tucked her coat in a closet as she toed off her boots. She stood before him in an oversize sweater and sheer tights, fidgeting as she took in the entryway.
"Did you mean what you said on the phone earlier?" he asked, ratcheting up the pressure, pushing her towards recklessness.
She raised her chin, eyes flaring. "Yes."
His lips curved up at the corners. "Good. We can use a stoplight system. Green is one tap, yellow is two taps, red is three taps. What are your boundaries?" He tried not to chuckle as comprehension flickered across her face.
"Um," she stuttered. "Uh, no, um, I don't want any broken skin or, like, visible marks."
"No hickies?" he asked, possessiveness and amusement warring within him.
She blushed. "No."
"That's not much of a list. You will tell me as we go if you've left things off it," he commanded as he walked toward her.
She took a hesitant step back. His previously laid back demeanor evaporated like morning mist.
"Never done this properly before?" he inquired with an urbane, raised brow. "Last chance. If you can't handle me, it's time to go, little girl."
She glared at him for a moment, then stepped forward and kissed him. He moaned into her mouth. Licking and nipping her lips, he slid his tongue inside as he gathered her in his arms. She smelled like burnt sugar and vanilla. She tasted like sweet cinnamon. Brianna sighed, and the tension went out of her. She melted into him. He pulled back, his dark hooded eyes roving across her flushed, freckled face.
He led her back to the living room, where the wood fire chased away the last bite of winter cold. He stood behind her as she looked at the coffee service and wrapped his arms around her waist.
He placed small kisses at the join of her neck and shoulder, and whispered, "I waited a long time. Your coffee's gone cold. I think that deserves a punishment." He nipped her neck, grinding his erect cock against her ass. She gasped, arching against him.
"You made me wait even longer," she replied breathlessly, but she didn't resist as he slowly bent her forward over the arm of the couch. He massaged her smooth, firm ass through the fabric of her dress before slowly raised the hem over her hips to expose it to his gaze. His dick twitched painfully in his pants as he took in her lace thigh highs and the thong that perfectly framed her heart-shaped derriere.
Hooking his finger into the small piece of fabric that lay between her cheeks, he pulled it back as far as it would go. She mewled as the front triangle of the thong pulled tight across her needy clit. Aydin let go, and the thong snapped back down, slapping her pink, wrinkled star, and she cried out again.
"I apologized for the lack of communication," he said. "But you intentionally made me wait." His hand descended hard on one cheek, then the other, over and over, until she could no longer resist crying out. He paused, reaching down. A grin stretched across his face as he found her panties drenched, her pussy hot and needy in his cupped hand.
"Where's my apology, hm?" he asked, pulling her panties aside to thrust his thick middle finger into her tight pussy in one hard stroke.
She squealed in surprise and then rocked against his hand. She groaned when he withdrew.
"Answer me, Brianna," he demanded, spanking her again. "Where's my apology?"
"I'm s-sorry," Brianna said, looking back at him. The image of her ass up and covered in marks from his hand, tears on her cheeks, tested all of Aydin's control.
"Sorry, who? Who are you apologizing to, Brianna?" Aydin asked. He wanted to hear her call him sir. He needed her to acknowledge his authority.
