Perhaps, he wondered, it was his use of good sex while talking of the dirtier things he imagined that made her more open to them. Whatever, her openness both surprised him and didn't. And he hoped to enjoy it.
He felt her clenching around him and he wished fiercely that he was buried inside her to enjoy the feeling. He ached with the fantasies he'd verbalized. With the scent of her arousal and the look on her face as she came.
He leaned over and kissed her, a hard, seeking kiss, affirming that trust with his lips. "You're wonderful," he murmured against them as he pulled back. "I wouldn't ever really hurt you," he added quietly. Pretend, yes, hurt mildly in pursuit of pleasure, but nothing that wouldn't be soothed or feel good in the long run.
"Touch me." The simple words were voiced as a command, but underlaying them, where she was sure to hear, was a faint plea--to reassure him by loving him that this was a good turn in their relationship. He was controlling, but even he needed that sort of thing every now and then.