Enemies to Lovers | BDSM
The Editor — Part 3
The blinking cursor seemed to impatiently tap its foot at her. Just what she fucking needed, a mouthy computer screen to comment on her inability to string words together. Fuck!!! Writing was hard today! You would think after Bowie threw her in the pool she would have had every word in the dictionary at her disposal. But that was yesterday and he had been gone when she climbed out of the pool ready for battle. Even killing characters in the pages of her book and pretending they were him wasn’t helping her focus.
Sara pushed back from her desk in disgust. She hated when her mind was a jumble. It always made her feel like she was teetering on the edge of a melt down…a breakdown…a crippling downward spiral where the only possible outcome was the world finding out she was a horrible writer all along. She pulled her bun down and shoved her fingers in her hair. Closing her eyes, she massaged her scalp and willed the words to come.
She was banging her head on her desk when Bowie walked in.
“ABSOLUTELY NOT! You will not harm yourself.” Bowie stalked toward her desk.
Sara didn’t even raise her head, “I don’t have the energy to kill you today. Come back tomorrow.”
Bowie slid his hand into the back of her hair and closed his fist. He pulled her head back until they were face to face. “I have been gentle with you long enough. THAT. STOPS. TODAY.”
Sara’s eyes went wide at his tone before they narrowed again. “Gentle?” she scoffed.
“I was giving you time. I was learning what you need. And you don’t need a basic villain, do you, Sara?” Bowie tightened his hold on her hair and leaned in closer.
“What do I need?” Sara whispered.
“A Master!” He crushed his lips to hers. It was brutal and hungry. He was not claiming her. He owned her with this kiss.
Sara tried to bite him. Bowie just tightened his grip on her hair again. Gasping from the pain, her mouth opened just enough for Bowie to further his possession. Sara pushed against his chest, desperate to get away from this consuming ownership. He gripped her throat with his other hand, squeezing slightly, locking her in place and quelling any further rebellion.
Bowie raised his head and looked Sara in the eyes, “You will not hurt yourself again. Do you understand?”
Sara tried to look away but he had her anchored in place. At his mercy, she pleaded for understanding, “But the pain helps me focus.”
Bowie leaned down and bit her lip. The sharp sting caused Sara to suck the offended skin inside her mouth. The metallic tang of blood was fresh on her tongue as she gazed up at him.
“From now on, if you want focus…if you want pain…I will give it to you.”
The air between them was thick as he waited for her response.
Swallowing, she felt his hand on her throat tighten. “I understand,” she whispered.
“Good girl.” Bowie leaned in and kissed her, tasting her forced submission. The battle only made it sweeter.
