Chapter 9: Anal Training Begins

Morning light spilled soft and golden through the half-drawn blinds of their bedroom at 8:15 a.m., catching on the small black butt plug resting on Jake’s pillow like a quiet dare. The silicone gleamed faintly, tapered and smooth, beside Mia’s handwritten note in her familiar looping script: “For me. Tonight when you’re ready. Go slow. — M.”

Jake’s heart kicked hard against his ribs even before his eyes fully opened. The plug felt cool against his fingertips when he picked it up, a solid promise after everything they’d already shared—the balcony wind on bare skin, the locker-room echo of her moans, the way she’d licked him clean under the shower spray last night. He was hard instantly, morning wood throbbing against the sheet, but beneath the surge of lust sat something steadier: trust. She trusted him with this new edge, and that made every nerve in his body hum with protective hunger.

He found her in the kitchen wearing nothing but his oversized hoodie again, sleeves swallowing her hands as she stirred coffee. The hem barely skimmed the tops of her thick thighs, and when she turned, the fabric shifted to reveal the soft underside of one full breast. Coconut-scented steam rose from her mug, but beneath it lingered the warmer trace of her skin—vanilla lotion and the faint salt of yesterday’s sweat still clinging to her collarbone.

“Morning,” she said, voice husky from sleep, cheeks already pinking when she spotted the plug in his palm. “You ... you don’t have to if it feels too much. I just—”

Jake crossed the room in three strides and set the plug on the counter beside her mug. He cupped her face, thumbs brushing her cheekbones, and kissed her forehead first—slow, reverent, the kind of kiss that had nothing to do with the rules and everything to do with the way his chest tightened whenever she looked at him like this. “I want to,” he murmured against her skin. “But we do it right. Lots of lube, all the time you need, and Red the second anything feels off. Deal?”