I lay there in the quiet, my body still shaking from the orgasm, my skin covered with sweat. He had just worshipped me like I was something precious, but now he wanted me gone.
I can't... I don't want to leave.
“Master,” I let the word slip free.
He froze right at the threshold of the open doors, his back to me, his broad shoulders tensing under the fabric of his shirt.
His hand was still on the doorframe as he stood there. The single title I just offered had frozen him in place.
“Master,” I whispered again.
The silence that followed was terrifying. I waited for him to say something or do something in response. Instead he remained frozen at the door.
Had I overstepped? Had I misread the devastating tenderness he offered moments ago? Was he really abandoning me?
He turned slowly and
