148

The morning light filtered gently through the linen curtains of the villa bedroom, warming the soft cream sheets where Yalda stirred. Her eyes fluttered open before the alarm, before Ioannis. She turned to watch him sleep, his chest rising and falling steadily, his face softened in slumber, the sharp lines of his jaw slack and peaceful. A fond smile curved her lips.

For once, she didn’t feel like curling into him or hiding under the sheets. Something inside her buzzed with an unusual clarity and calm. She reached out, brushing her fingers lightly across his cheek before pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder. Quietly, she slipped out of bed, pulling on a light robe, and padded downstairs, the tile cool beneath her feet.

Loki greeted her at the door with a happy bark, tail wagging like a metronome. The morning air in Greece was fresh and sweet, scented faintly with the sea and the flowering trees in the garden. Yalda took her time walking the dog, letting the silence and sun soak into her skin. It was peaceful, grounding. The past weeks had been full of so much emotion, tension, and pleasure. Today felt different. Settled.

Back inside, she found Alina already in the kitchen, humming to herself as she measured flour. They made olive bread together, hands busy, hearts light. The dough was sticky and warm between their fingers, and they laughed when flour dusted the air like mist. Alina gave Yalda a knowing smile, pressing a smudge of flour playfully on her cheek.

In the quiet hours that followed, Yalda curled up in the sunlit living room with a book she’d been meaning to finish. A historical romance, slightly cheesy, unabashedly dramatic, but it soothed her. The heroine was everything she once thought she wasn’t: confident, daring, unapologetically herself. As she read, something stirred in her chest. A slow realization bloomed.

She missed Ioannis.

Not in the usual longing way that left her aching or weepy. This was different. She missed him because she had something to give. Something she had never been brave enough to offer before.

Dinner was light and Mediterranean; grilled octopus, a citrus and fennel salad, and a bottle of red wine she’d picked out with care. Yalda had set the table on the terrace, added fresh flowers from the garden, and wore a dress she knew he loved. A soft silk wrap, deep emerald, that hugged her waist and spilled open at her thighs when she moved just right.

She heard the front door open and footsteps pause. Ioannis appeared in the doorway, his eyes sweeping over her with slow appreciation.

"What’s the occasion, agapi mou?"

She walked over to greet him, slid her arms around his neck, took his briefcase from his hand, and kissed him lightly on the lips. "No occasion. I just missed you."

They sat and talked over dinner, but something had shifted. Ioannis tilted his head more often, studying her with growing interest. Yalda laughed more easily, flirted shamelessly. She let her bare foot brush against his ankle beneath the table, feeding him bites of orange and letting her fingers linger along his jawline.

His voice dropped low, rough with curiosity. "You’re up to something."

"Maybe," she whispered, eyes gleaming with mischief.

They cleared the table together, fingers brushing, bodies lingering. Ioannis caught her waist as she reached to grab a plate, holding her a little longer than necessary, and she leaned into the touch, let herself melt into the sensation for just a moment before turning and kissing his neck softly.

Then she pulled back, held his gaze, and said, "Come upstairs with me."

He nodded without question, his hand finding hers.

But as they reached the landing, Yalda stopped in front of their bedroom door. Her heart beat faster, not with nerves but anticipation. She turned to face him, placing her hands on his chest.

"Tonight," she said, voice low and deliberate, fingers playing with the collar of his shirt, "I want to be in charge. I want you to let me lead. Will you let me?"

Ioannis blinked, caught off guard, then slowly smiled. Not his usual smug smirk, but something deeper, warmer. Curious. Aroused. Devoted.

"I will," he murmured, threading their fingers together. "Lead me, Yalda."

The bedroom was bathed in the soft amber glow of the setting sun, casting long shadows across the walls and giving the room a sultry intimacy. Yalda stood at the foot of the bed, her eyes locked with Ioannis', every inch of her trembling with anticipation and the heady thrill of reversing their dynamic.

He looked at her, stripped down to nothing but raw admiration, his body completely at ease, yet alert. He knew this wasn’t just about play, it was about trust.

"Lie down," she said, her voice low, shaky at first, then steadier as she watched him obey. His massive frame sprawled across the bed, but the way he looked up at her, eyes soft, hands relaxed at his sides, made her feel powerful. She moved slowly, sensually, letting her dress fall off her shoulders until it pooled at her feet.

She straddled him, her knees pressed into the sheets on either side of his hips. She let her fingers glide over his chest, pausing to brush across his nipples, just enough to make him tense.

The control was intoxicating. She bent low and kissed his throat, whispering against his skin, "My turn."

He nodded, his hands itching to touch her, but he didn't. He let her lead. She dragged her nails down his arms before lifting his wrists and pressing them into the headboard. "Keep them there," she said, voice daring him to move. He didn’t.

Her lips moved down his chest, lingering on his abs, her breath teasing him. She took her time, and he let out a quiet groan. "You like this?" she asked, a ghost of a smirk playing on her lips.

"I love seeing you like this," he murmured.

She grinned, emboldened, and reached for the silk tie she had brought from the closet earlier. Gently, she tied his wrists to the headboard, double-checking the knot but making sure it wasn't too tight. He watched her, pride and lust swirling in his gaze.

Yalda leaned over him again and kissed his mouth, slow and deep, making him taste the shift in her. When she pulled back, she trailed kisses along his jawline, then sat upright again, reaching behind herself to unhook her bra, letting it slip from her arms. His eyes followed every movement, his restraint evident in the way his arms flexed but remained obediently tethered.

"I want to see you beg a little," she teased, rolling her hips slowly against his.

His breath caught. "Please, Yalda... Fuck me."

She leaned forward, kissed his ear, and whispered, "Good man"

That made him groan, his hips jerking beneath her. She moaned quietly as she let her drenched slit sink down on his cock to take all of him in. She started to ride him slowly, deliberately, her hands resting on his chest to steady herself.

The connection was electric, thick with tension and heat. Her pace was torturous, lifting and lowering herself just enough to keep him on edge, her breath becoming more labored with each movement.

"Yalda..." His voice cracked, heavy with need.

She stilled suddenly, her fingers sliding down his chest, tracing his sternum. "You don’t get to finish until I do," she said, her voice breathy but firm.

He gave a hoarse chuckle, equal parts amused and tortured. "You're going to kill me."

"No," she whispered as she started moving again, "I'm going to make you remember this night forever."

Their bodies moved in sync, her fingers splayed on his chest, his wrists bound but his eyes never leaving her face. She was flushed and radiant, hair tumbling over her shoulders, her body trembling with the effort of control and the rush of dominance.

She leaned forward and kissed him again, tongue tangling with his, moaning into his mouth. He bit her bottom lip lightly, and she responded with a sharp grind of her hips that made them both gasp.

Her climax built slow, the heat curling inside her like a wave. She grabbed the headboard behind his head to steady herself as she chased her release, moaning with every bounce, every grind, her hips moved quicker now, more aggressively. Her head fell back and her hips rolled harder, more urgently.

"Ioannis... oh God..."

"I'm here, baby. Let go."

She did. With a shudder, she came hard, her nails digging into his chest, her thighs clenching around him. The cry that tore from her throat was raw and beautiful.

Only when she had collapsed onto his chest, her body still twitching in the aftershocks, did she whisper, "You can finish now."

He growled and surged up as much as the restraints allowed, his hips thrusting up into her until he came with a groan, spilling into her as she trembled against him.

Yalda lay on him for a long moment, listening to the race of his heartbeat. Then she reached up, gently untied his wrists, and kissed the inside of both. "You were perfect," she murmured.

He pulled her into his arms and rolled them to the side, hugging her tight. "So were you. You owned me."

She smiled into his chest. "I liked it. I like being your good girl, but sometimes... I want to be your bad girl too."

He kissed her forehead. "You can be anything you want, Yalda.
Always."

They lay together in the quiet that followed, limbs tangled, bodies spent but hearts full.