KILLIAN GETS CURIOUS. I MAY HAVE OUT-SMUTTED MYSELF HERE.

He didn't want her to think he was unsatisfied, or bored with the game. But for weeks he'd been wondering what it would be like to give Emma his absolute submission. What might she do to him? How creative could she be? Would she get off on someone else's obedience, or have no interest? Was he capable of total obedience? He certainly didn't think of himself as the type, which somehow only intensified his curiosity. Every time she rose to whatever challenge he'd leveled at her, he wondered if he could do the same.

I've survived many a fight. Rushed headlong into dangerous adventures. But what would I suffer at Swan's command? Could I take it?

He knew he had to ask her about switching roles at some point during one specific game. He made Emma wear what they'd come to call her "church whore" outfit (the sweet flowery skirt and button down top), and kept her wrists bound and mouth taped for hours, un-taping her mouth periodically to suck his cock. He checked her clit several times throughout the day, and almost every time it was slick as hell.

She really does get off in this stuff. How?

Since she'd never expressed any interest in them changing roles, it took him weeks to work up the nerve.

She was out picking up Henry from school and dropping him off at Regina's. He paced, and paced, and wracked his brain, trying to think of a way to get the conversation rolling. He was starting lose his nerve when the answer dawned on him.

No talk!

He dashed to the bedroom, wrote 'PROPERTY OF EMMA SWAN' on one of his white t shirts, and put it on. Then he went to their toy box, selected the riding crop, and knelt down in the bedroom doorway. He held the crop on his teeth like a dog with a bone, and waited. The gesture would have been far too blatant to keep with their rules for her, but since this was his first time broaching the subject of her owning of him, he figured the rules were a blank slate.

She must have lingered to chat with Regina, he thought when his wait reached the ten minute mark. He was tempted to get up for a minute to shake his legs out, but decided against it. If Emma does want to do this, kneeling for a long time will be the least of my trials. The thought sent an exited chill down his spine. It surprised him. His wait was going on fifteen minutes when he heard the key in the door. He squared his shoulders. His cock twitched as he heard her padding through the apartment.

Front hall . . . living room . . . just a few more feet until . . .

"Killian," she called out, "are you he-" she stood at the other end of the hallway, gaping at him.

His breath hitched, but he said nothing. She dropped her purse and carefully set down her armload of papers before slowly approaching him.

"Huh." She put her hands on her hips. "This is interesting." She took the crop from his mouth and read his shirt. "Property of Emma Swan." She stared silently, blank faced, for a long time.

What is that look? Killian wondered. Disapproval? Annoyance? Is she thinking it ov-

The riding crop struck his cheek so hard he barely bit back a pained yelp.

"You're in my way!" She barked. "Move!"

He started to hoist himself up, the thrill of success rushing straight to his cock, but she pressed the crop against his chest. "Did I say stand? No. I said move!"

He scooted out of the doorway, keeping his gaze fixed on the ground. He found it interesting that she'd not only accepted his offer so quickly, but that she wasn't merely imitating his styleof supremacy. Her tactics were her own.

She walked over to closet, kicked her shoes off next to the row of other pairs, and turned to face him. "Come undress me."

Ask, he reminded himself.

"Shall I walk over or crawl?"

Emma smiled. "You're learning. Walk."

"What shall I remove first?" he asked as he crossed the room.

Her smile grew wider as she ran the crop down his chest. "Learning fast. Just for that I'll let you go down on me for exactly two and a half minutes after you take my clothes off." The element of specific timing had recently come into their gameplay.

"Thank you, Emma," he said, genuinely pleased.

"Shirts first." She raised her arms over her head and he removed fist the red shirt, and the white one under it. "Belt. Pants-and do not touch my underwear. Not one little brush, not even with the hook, or I won't let you lick my clit at all until tomorrow." She squeezed him through his pants. "And that would suck for you. I know how much you love the way I taste."

His cock throbbed when she took her hand away from him. He spent a few moments working out how to get her pants unzipped without risking contact with her underwear. It was a tad tricky, but he managed it. Underwear was last.

"Get the timer, set it, and get to work," she said as she laid down near the foot of the bed, legs spread wide and feet propped at the edge of the mattress. She set the crop down next to her. A few seconds later she was bucking against his obedient mouth.

She's liking this role! he thought as he licked diligently. She was every bit as wet as she got when he owned her. He reared back on his haunches the instant the timer went off. By then the confines of his jeans had become painful.

"May I please take off my jeans?" he asked with no attempt to hide his desperation.

She sat up, and ran the crop along the outline of his face. "I'll start you out easy. Take off your shirt and if you survive three minutes of the crop and I'll let you unzip."

This was the part he was most nervous about. A strike here and there was one thing, but it always left angry marks on Emma for days when he went at her for minutes at a time.

Dangerous adventures, he reminded himself as he traded places with Emma. You've survived hundreds of them.

She trailed the crop lazily up the back of his still-clothed thigh, over his ass, and traced little circles around his back. It felt almost relaxing.

Snap! This time he did cry out.

It was unrelenting. Strike after strike without pause even when she switched hands or moved around for a different angle. He couldn't fathom how she took even more than three minutes without complaint.

Lemon! He screamed at himself. Lemon! Just bloody say lemon, you're not ready for this! The word came to the tip of his tongue several times, but each time he forced himself to think of the reward. She'd let him get his cock out of its godawful prison. And still he barely made it to the end. The buzz of the timer was the sweetest sound he'd ever heard (next to the stunning racket of Emma cumming like a wild thing). He collapsed to the bed panting and sweating.

"Amateur." She paused. "Okay, get it out."

He scrambled off the bed, undid his zipper, and yanked his pants down frantically, only to be shocked when the crop struck his face and neck in three sharp blows.

"What the hell?!" he yelled before he could stop himself, immediately bracing himself for another strike as punishment.

Instead she shoved him back down on the bed. "First of all," she pushed a mat of hair away from her forehead, "no back talk. Second, I said you could unzip. Nottake off the pants.

He made a warbling noise as he pulled the pants back over his thighs.

At least she didn't make you zip up again, mate.

She took in the site of him, seeming to contemplate her options. "Don't get off the bed," she said abruptly, and left the room.

Killian could not for the life of him figure out why this notonly wasn't killing his hard-on, but making it pulse with the urge to find out what came next. He heard her rifling through her purse. She returned with her phone in hand, entering their security code as she approached had a special vid file labeled "favorites." The ones Killian most liked to watch. Their greatest hits, so to speak.

"See these?" she purred as she held the screen in front of him.

He stared unblinking at the vid of he and Emma. He was wearing something from his pirate days, she was in nothing but high heels, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. He bent her over a chair in the living room and fucked her until her hair was completely unraveled.

She turned it off before the next vid could play. "There are over thirty vids in this file." She tossed the phone carelessly onto a pillow. "I'm going to go for a nice ride, Killian," she explained, stroking his cock. "Shhhh," she cautioned when he moaned. "A nice ride. And if you say a single word, or make a sound louder than a fucking whisper?" She leaned down close to his ear. "I'll delete the whole file."

Can I trade for the crop?! Please, the crop!

She chuckled at his obvious panic as she brought her hands around his neck and settled over him in a teasing straddle, her hips already slowly rocking. "You can touch me anywhere," she continued as she positioned herself to take him in. "But you can't change our position."

Killian's whole face clenched and he threw back his head in a silent scream when she lowered herself onto him. Emma, on the other hand? She was a on obscene opera. Scaling through every octave as she rode him.

"Oh!ah-fuck, fuck!"

Her depths rippled and tightened around his length and (considerable) girth. Muscles released and tightened, released and tightened. He grasped at her back and hips, head thrashing every which way as he struggled to remain mute. To stop himself from shouting her name at the top of his lungs, or curse her incredible cruelty.

Damn you! Damn you! Damn you! Oh God, you're perfect! His throat ran dry from pained gasping and panting.

Emma grabbed his hair and forced his head forward, meeting him in a brutal kiss that ended when she bit down on his shoulder.

He hissed, marveling at the game. The way a jolt of such pain could make his cock swell against her walls even more.

"I felt that," she breathed. "I love that cock, I get so fucking tight for you, Killian!" she gripped his tensed biceps, arched her back, and spread her legs wider, moving one hand behind her to grip his leg.

His grabbed her waist as she thrust herself against him, taking him in deeper. The muscles inside her quivered with such force Killian thought he might lose his mind. Instead he gasped and mewled, ground his teeth, bit the side of his tongue. Whatever it took to abide the rules.

She held his shoulders in a vice grip and leaned back even further. "Make me cum!" She commanded. "Right now! Right-ah! Right now!" She shoved him down on the bed. "Right now, I need it, I need it!"

His hook clawed at her waist as his hand dove for her clit. He tried to brace himself for what was about to happen to his cock, and rallied every ounce of strength in his body to resist crying out loud enough to be heard throughout all the realms in existence. He rubbed her clit with rolling pressure, a circular lift and press. He knew she loved that move.

It didn't happen gradually. It slammed into her body and went straight to his cock. Unimaginable sounds spilled out if her while Killian restrained himself to a helpless, ragged gasp as he came. He felt amazing despite all the desperate cries clawing at his throat, yearning for release.

When it was over she leaned down and ran her tongue up his chest, along the line of his throat, and enjoyed a moment of affectionate nibbling at his earlobe before whispering in his ear. "You can talk now."

"What the fucking hell was that?" he cried, raking his hands though sweat-drenched hair. "That was amazing!"

Emma chuckled and peppered his chest with kisses.

Killian was dizzy with relief. "I can't believe I made it," he shook his head. "I just can't believe it."

"What gave you the idea to switch things up?" Emma asked as they shimmied the rest of the way up the bed.

He thought about the question for a moment. "Well . . . I always enjoy what we do while we're playing but then afterwards . . . sometimes I look at everything I did to your body, and it seemed bloody impossible that you could've gotten off on it," he shrugged. "I wanted to understand." He pet her hair as she settled next to him. "And see if I could handle it."

"You did great," Emma as she went on kissing his chest. "I was brutal as hell with the crop."

"Oh, no," he insisted. "Gentle as a kitten, Swan. Gentle as a kitten."

"So what did you think? Not a fan, or-"

"Oh, I'd love to keep going. This opens up a whole new field of play for us, doesn't it? Provided you'd want to, of course."

"I only went with it to humor you at first," Emma smiled. "But I was all in after you took the riding crop.

"Yeah?"

She nuzzled his chest. "I got wet as fuck while I did it. The way you squirmed, and the sounds you made?" She shivered against him. "Well done."

Killian felt a rush of pride. Emma's usual role was making more and more sense.

Without saying a word, Emma picked up his hand and guided it between her legs. "Do something interesting."

He raised an eyebrow. "So soon?"

Her eyes darkened. "Don't make me get the crop."

A mix of arousal and fear hit him as he immediately obeyed. "Does the Lady have plans for my cock at the moment?" he asked as he gently rubbed her clit. He tried not to betray a sign of nervousness, but he was worried that he might be too spent to get beyond half hard for a little while.

"No," she sighed. "This one's all about me. In fact if you do get hard, you'll have to take care of yourself.""Am I allowed to move your body about, or am I at your whim?"

"Do whatever you think will get the job done."

"In that case," he reared up and tucked himself back in his jeans. "I want you spread nice and wide." He sat up between Emma's legs, pushing her knees up and apart. "Mmmmm," he purred as his fingers returned to their task. "Now this is a view. You did take quite a ride before, didn't you?"

"I know what to do with a great cock." Emma's eyelids fluttered as Killian swept his thumb over her clit in an upward motion.

"Compliment taken," he said with a fast push deeper inside her and a firm flick at her clit.

Her thigh muscles jerked.

He bent down to lick and kiss at her hips, and along the line of her thighs. He almost bit down on her hip but decided not to.

I belong to Emma, he chided himself. She leaves the marks on me. His pulse hitched. He was surprised find himself hoping she planned to bite or suck bruises on his flesh at some point.

He felt her start to writhe, soft little moans fluttering in her throat.

"I'm gonna film this," she informed him.

He stayed focused on his job, his tongue sweeping all through he center in no particular pattern.

"Here's Killian," Emma narrated quietly, her breathing shallow and uneven. "He does such a good job with me. He-oh-he uh . . ." she sighed.

Losing focus already. I am on a roll today, he congratulated himself. Don't let it go to your head, pirate. You'll get lazy.

Her hips began a gentle roll. "He's staying between my legs un-oh, oh-" some soft panting. "Until I decide I'm wet enough. Then I'm gonna make him sit back and watch me get myself off." She paused. "Did you hear me Killian?"

"Mm-hm."

She yanked him up by his hair.

"Repeat the order."

I see we're getting back into the swing of things.

"You say when I'm done, and I watch you finish."

"Exactly." She shoved his face back between her legs and continued narrating. "He's been decent so-aaaaaaah, so far. I've only corrected a f-f-f . . . few mistakes," she paused to draw a deep breath. "And he has quite the disciplined cock," she said before literally kicking him away.

He almost toppled off the edge of the bed.

"But I'm done playing with that toy for now." She held the phone out to Killian. "Film me."

"May I narrate as well?" he asked.

She nodded as she laid back and ran her hands over her already well-fucked core.

"I am Killian Jones, property of Emma Swan. I am her happy-oh, that's beautiful," he said when she went from a gentle petting motion to a more aggressive touch. "Her loyal toy." He'd guessed correctly regarding the state of his cock. Only half hard.

Actually an advantage at the moment. I can think and speak clearly.

Her stroke quickened.

He fashioned his voice into smooth, cool silk. "I am at her whim, I will beg for her touch if she likes, for her mark on my body, I will spend days at her feet, I will drive my cock to its limits to please her-"

A new surge of arousal coated her fingers.

Almost there.

"My one use is her pleasure, a I am worthless if I fail-"

She whimpered and bucked upward into her fingers as the other hand pressed down on her clit.

Boom.

He zoomed out and positioned the camera to capture the whole image. Her flushed face, busy hands, all of it.

"I am pointless! A waste without my Swan's orders, her rule-" he continued speaking as she crested and began the unhurried stroll back to awareness. "If she commands me to toss away my honor . . ."

Her head lolled to the side and she looked at him.

" . . . my pride . . . " He dropped to a whisper. " . . . my mind . . . "

She ran her foot over his thigh.

"I will hurl them away like trash." He zoomed in. "I belong to Emma Swan."

She pushed herself upright. "You should write sappy poetry," she said with a satisfied sigh.

"Is that a command?"

She chuckled. "No. This is: put your shirt back on and put my clothes in the laundry basket."

When he finished the simple task, she rose from the bed. "Don't move, and don't lift a finger to touch me," she said as she approached him. He held still as she walked around him, looking him over like piece of furniture she might purchase. He felt her press against his back, nose nuzzling the base of his neck as her arms came around his waist and ran over his chest. She came around to stand in front of him, pressing close. Her mouth hovered over his. "Hands stay at your sides, I lead, you follow," were her only instructions before leaning in to kiss him.

As per her order, Killian only responded to her cues. When she merely pressed her lips to his, he pressed against hers in kind. When she tilted her head and suddenly lunged into his mouth, he met her battle-ready tongue with enthusiasm. She went on kissing him. Raking her fingers through his hair, over his body, clutching his shirt, only breaking free for split seconds at a time to let them catch a breath.

Killian had no trouble matching her pace. His struggle was resisting the urge to touch her, or take control of the kiss. Her hands roamed ceaselessly over his body, and warmth of her bare flesh radiated through his clothes. By the time she pushed him away, his cock was more than willing to rejoin the party.

"Don't move, don't talk. Just watch me." said Emma as she took their 'play-clothes box' out of the closet. She rifled through it and selected a strapless bra, lace thigh highs, matching garter belt, and a sheer top. All black, of course. All Killian wanted to do was rip his pants open and stroke himself as he watched her get dressed. A process she did not rush.

Then she selected her shoes. Black spike heeled lace-up boots that came to just below the knees. She unthreaded the laces, placed them neatly on the edge of the bed, and hurled the boots at Killain as she sat down.

"Put them on me and lace them-in that order."

His cock ached so bad it made him quiver. He picked up the boots and concentrated on the task at hand. A task she made more difficult when she started rubbing her clit.

"Mmmmm," she moaned. She stroked his hair when he knelt before her. "I've never had a pet. You're completely housebroken too, aren't you?"

"Yes," he replied without looking at her, trying to keep his attention on lacing the boots despite what she was doing to herself.

"No self respect at all. STOP LACING!" she ordered suddenly."

He froze.

"I just thought of something fun. While you lace, I'm going count. Every number is another minute."

"Of what?" He asked, realizing it was a horrible mistake before he even finished the question.

He didn't have to look up to know she was glaring.

"Would you like to take the riding crop until you're a walking fucking bruise?"

His mouth went dry and his muscles tensed. "If . . . if you think that's best."

"Hm . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I suppose not."

It took all of Killian's discipline not to show any sign of his relief.

"I'll be even nicer, and answer your question." She grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled his head back. "Every number is another minute you have to keep your cock in your pants-one, two, three-"

She started counting right away, and he scrambled to work, commanding his hands to cooperate. By some absolute miracle, he finished tying off the second boot just as she got to twenty-two.

I suspect it will feel three times longer. He thought as his cock strained helplessly.

She kicked him away and ran her eyes over his body with a smirk. "We'll have to make a shirt that says you're my personal whore." She stood up and pinned him to the ground with her boot. "Actually, I think I'll have you do that while I'm out." She paused to see if Killian would ask where or why just out if habit. When he didn't, her smirk became a grin. "House. Broken. I guess I forgot to mention, I'm going to mute your phone and hide it in the apartment, throw on a nice long coat, and leave. Call me when you find it and I'll decide what you're allowed to do to me when I get back. Make the new t shirt while I'm on the way home."

From his vantage point, he could see Emma get wetter as she spoke.

"If you find it before your twenty-two minutes are up, you can beg me to let you get your cock out and I'll consider it. Will you beg hard for me?"

Killian was practically sweating with anticipation. "So hard. God, so so hard."

She took her foot off his chest and headed for the door. "Oh!" She spun back around. "I almost forgot. If you haven't called me in two hours, I'm coming home, and you will not like what I do to you."

He listed to the sound of her hiding the phone. "You can start looking as soon as I lock the door." She called out.

Jangling keys.

Door opening.

Lock turning.

Killian doubted a lighting strike could move faster than he did. He threw open the linen closet and shook out all the towels. Nothing. He ran for living room. Under chairs, the couch, all cushions, behind the couch. Nothing.

That takes care of the obvious places.

Under potted plant foliage, in the cupboard where they kept puzzle or board games, and inside the game boxes, the of various unused decorative items (vases, small picture frames, etc). Nope.

On to the kitchen.

Microwave, oven, fridge, on top of the fridge, canned goods cupboard, pots, pans, dishes, cups-he was careful(ish) with the breakable stuff, but otherwise items were not treated delicately. He was nearly out of his mind when his eyes landed on the flour and sugar tins. He ripped the lids off both. At first, his heart sank.

Where the fuck is it?!

Then he saw his salvation. The top of a ziplock bag peeking through the flour. He removed the bag and there it was. The phone. He tore open the bag and groaned when he saw the new screensaver. Emma with his cock in her mouth while she looked up at the camera.

He looked at the clock on the microwave.

Nineteen minutes! It was only shy of his twenty-two marker by three minutes, but even the chance at a three minute reprieve almost brought him to his knees.

The phone rang four times before she picked up.

He didn't hesitate, "Pleasepleaseplease, I'll take the fucking crop as long as you like! I'll be your whore for a month, but please!"

"You're allowed."

He was dizzy with relief until he pulled himself out. Things went wrong. His cock was in such pain that just the rush of freedom and fleeting touch of his own hand made him cum.

"No!" he cried out, his pulse pouding. "Oh no! oh hell! Dammit, I'm sorry Emma! I'm sosorry!" (He knew better than to ask for forgiveness.)

Emma sighed. "You came, didn't you?"

"Yes," he whimpered. The admission won him another sigh and a long silence.

"I was going to let you fuck me as hard as you pleased the second I walked in the door, but now? . . . I'll be home in . . . twenty five minutes. You will meet me at the door, in your new shirt, with a tumbler of scotch. Neat. The good stuff. You will crawl to the dining table, sit on the floor, and watch me drink it. And . . . I assume the apartment is fairly torn up, yeah?"

Killian looked a round the room. "Quite."

"When I'm done with my drink you'll put the couch back together, and I'll lay down and start getting myself off while you clean up the rest of the apartment . . . " she paused. Killian could tell she was thinking things over. "I haven't decided if I'm going to make you take the crop again. We'll see how I feel once you're done cleaning. Either way, when you're done with all that, then you can fuck me as hard as you please."

It was honestly less severe than he'd expected.

He made and put on the 'Emma Swan's Personal Whore' t shirt, poured her drink, and waited at the front door just as patiently as he'd waited at the bedroom door with the crop in his mouth. Aside from the cum mishap, he thought he was doing well-and Emma was doing spectacularly. He hoped it was at least in part because she had his example to follow. The thought made him smile.

A shiver went through him when she opened the door. His pulse hitched when she took her coat off. In all his panic, he'd somehow forgotten she was wearing a 'play clothes' outfit.

She grinned as she hung up the coat. "You forgot about this, didn't you?"

"I did." He handed her the scotch.

She took a small sip of her drink and traced the letters on his shirt. "It's a good look for you."

"Thank you. Shall I crawl now?"

"Absolutely," she sipped her scotch and followed him to the dining table.

She picked up a book from the coffee table before sitting down. As per instruction, Killian watched her savor her drink. She turned her feet toward him. "Take them off, put them away, and go get the couch ready."

He finished arranging the couch just as she took her last sip of scotch. She crossed the room, laid down without acknowledging him in the slightest, and positioned herself. Feet on the cushions, knees brought up and spread just enough to get her hands between her legs.

Though he wanted nothing more than to stare at her and stroke himself, he had a job to do. He cleaned. He even rinsed out the wine glass and put it in the dishwasher. All while listening to the sound of his Swan pleasuring herself shamelessly. He tried not to look at her for fear it would be more distraction than he could handle, but sometimes there was no avoiding it-or he just couldn't resist a fleeting glance. Every time he did look, her face was flushed, hips rolling, leg muscles pulsing. He needed to fuck her. Intensely.

But will I have to take the crop first? he wondered. For how long?

"Look at me," Emma rasped when he finished his work. "Crawl over here and look at me."

He did as he was told.

"Mmmmm," she gazed at him, pupils completely blown out. "Now . . . crop or fuck?" she asked herself. "Crop or fuck . . . "

He whimpered as she spread her legs wide enough to give him an unhindered view of her sex-slicked fingers.

Her panting grew heavier, more ragged. "Ju-just sooooo, ah, so you know," she slowed her fingers and hips, and took in a deep breath. "I'm not skipping the crop for your sake-"

Killian's heart and cock both swelled. He was desperate to bury himself inside her.

"I'm skipping the crop because owning a pet whore-even an obedient one, is hard work and I've earned myself a good fuck, got that?"

Killian swallowed, hoping his mouth remembered how to form words. "Of course." Every muscle in his body tightened as he waited for her to give the official order.

"Tell me why I'm letting you fuck me," she quizzed, speeding up her stroke up again.

"Because my cock is your toy and you may use it as you please."

"Fuck me," she ordered through gritted teeth.

Never in the history of stripping has anyone stripped faster than Killian Jones. He positioned himself over her with almost equal speed, and grabbed the arm of the couch to brace himself as he drove forward.

She gasped and arched into him, keeping one hand at work on her clit while the other clawed down his arm.

He hardly felt it. All he cared about was the wet, pulsing, clutch of Emma's greedy center. His every brutal thrust was greeted with another shudder inside her. She loved him best when he was deep (and when they played the game, ruthless as well) so he alternated his focus between force and made himself pay attention to these details despite the temptation to lose himself in her because he meant to give her his total submission. To exist for absolutely nothing but her pleasure, and discard every trace of other goals.

She does it so beautifully when I own her, he thought as his cock swelled. If I can't do the same I don't deserve to play. When he'd decided to switch up the game he promised himself he wouldn't hesitate or hold back, and he hadn't. But he had assumed that at the end of the day, with the curiosity satisfied, he'd prefer owning her. As it turned out, he enjoyed the hell out of both roles.

Emma threw her head back and sounded off a rattling, high pitched moan as she released and lost all sense. Killian watched it rock through her, head to toe and back again, lap after lap as though it would never relent. With every new burst he struggled not to go blind as well, determined to see her through, to give her all the cock she'd demanded for as long he was able.

He only survived by chanting over and over in his head: Emma's order, Emma's order, Emma's order . . .

As Emma began to settle, she pulled him to her and rasped in his ear. "Hold still. Right now!"

For the hundredth time that day, Killian felt certain he was poised on the brink of failure. But he stilled himself all the same.

She looked up at his shaking body and desperate eyes and smiled, fully sated. "When I count to thirty, you can cum. One." She smiled. "Two."

Just be glad she's not rolling her hips, he thought.

"Three . . . four . . . five, six, seven, eight, nine," she counted faster and faster, and when she reached thirty, Killian's world dropped out from under him and he fell, oblivious to everything but the indescribable relief of finally cumming inside her after what felt like hours of teasing torment. He came, and the universe went dark. Ceased to exist.

When he wandered back into his own skin, he found himself collapsed on Emma, her hands smoothing over his sweat-drenched hair. He had no clue how much time had passed. Seconds? Days? It didn't matter.

"Unbelievable," he muttered breathlessly. "I can't believe I got through it all! How do . . . how do you always . . . ?

She a placed a long, lingering kiss on his forehead. "Commitment." She said with a happy sigh. "Total commitment."