Afterlife (12 page)

mind games to keep from reacting.

Those cotton pants

don’t hide much.”

“No, they don’t.” A tiny smile

bloomed in her heart, then

on her lips, surprising her.

“Particularly during Sleeping

Thunderbolt.”

He gave a snort. “Wel , everything is

wide awake now.

This time, you may look. But only if

you get into a

submissive kneeling posture. Hands

laced behind your

head, ass on your heels, knees spread

shoulder width

apart.”

She complied, mouth dry once again.

He didn’t give her

long to look, moving around her,

pausing outside of her

range of vision. One fingertip drifted

up her spine, a tingling

sensation that made her shiver, arch.

“Better. Some Masters want the back

ramrod straight. I

like this, where your breasts are

tilted up and there’s a

strain in the muscles, keeping your

mind focused. I want

your mind only on my desire and wil

, nothing else. Until I

release you, there’s nothing else but

that. Understood?”

“Y-yes.”

A pause. “I’l let you get away with

not addressing me

properly for now, but only because I

want the pleasure of

hearing it come spontaneously from

you the first time, when

your mind truly lets go.”

She was thinking her mind had let go

already, but she

was wil ing to embrace the

temporary insanity. When he

stepped back in front of her, he

unbuckled his belt,

unhooked the trousers. She could tel

he was already

aroused, because the smooth pleated

line of the linen was

no longer smooth. She didn’t know a

body could reach a

starvation point so quickly, but it was

a ravenous ache in

her stomach, the strain in her thighs

and arched back

intensifying as he toed off his

polished shoes, removed his

socks with the slacks low on his hips,

the tongue of the belt

hanging loose, the buckle making a

faint clinking noise as

he lithely bent to set the footwear

aside. If he’d let her, she’d

take down that zipper with her teeth,

use the excuse to

mouth him even through the cloth.

But apparently al owing her to look

was as generous as

he was getting right now. He slid the

zipper down himself,

hooked the snug boxers beneath and

skinned them off at

the same time so she saw the pale hip

bone, the light layer

of black silk over the pubic area.

Then she saw his cock,

hard and so remarkably virile a

whimper came from her

throat. Even if she couldn’t have an

orgasm, she prayed for

enough moisture to let that slide deep

inside her. Maybe

she could get a moment in the

bathroom alone to slip some

oil inside her, to be sure it would

work…

Bare, muscular and beautiful, he was

now standing in

front of her. When he extended a hand

to her, she couldn’t

help that her fingers were stil

trembling. Heavens, she

hadn’t stopped shaking since he’d

come into her

apartment, but it seemed to be getting

worse now. Making

a noise in his throat, he closed the

warm strength of his

hand around hers. He kept her on her

knees with its

pressure, a wordless communication.

It reminded her of

how he anticipated her yoga moves

during class. He could

be mute and stil speak to her more

eloquently than anyone

she’d ever met.

Pure, painful, irresistible insanity.

She licked her lips, her gaze coursing

over the muscles

at calf and thigh, the compact strength

of his arms, the way

his hair brushed his neck. Back down

the slope of his

chest, over the ridged abdomen, the

descent a rol er

coaster rush that brought her back to

what had saliva

gathering in her mouth. The desire to

suck a Master’s cock

had perhaps been the first sexual

indicator of what she

was. She’d longed to do that to the

male who claimed her,

have him push her to her knees to

service him, give him

prolonged pleasure with the sucking,

skil ful pressure of her

mouth.

Her PT lunch friends had once

brought up blowjobs, such

a crude term. They’d joked about

them, most only mildly

enjoying or putting up with the act.

Some strategized to do

it in the shower, so they could more

easily and discreetly

spit out the release.

She wanted Jon’s come on her

tongue, shooting down

her throat, his hands flexing in her

hair, pul ing hard on her

scalp as she gave him the orgasm

he’d demand from her.

Goddess, her breath was getting

shorter, and she couldn’t

help but sway forward on her knees.

He caught her other hand. “Easy now.

You made my cock

harder by looking at it with those

greedy eyes. It’s so

obvious what you need. What you

crave.”

She closed her eyes. His voice was

husky, but she was

afraid of what he must be thinking.

“Are you teasing me?”

“I hope so. In al the right ways.”

He lifted her up then, turning the

shower back on. Testing

it first with his hand, he then guided

hers in, circling her

wrist and turning her palm up to the

spray. It aligned their

bodies, the point of his hip into the

top of her buttock, his

chest against her back. She shuddered

again then, the

hitch in her throat close to a sob. A

bare male body against

hers, his erection pressing against her

soft, wil ing flesh.

She was torn between arousal and

something very like

grief, gripping her heart in a fist so

tight, she couldn’t draw

in a breath. “Jon…”

“I’ve got you. Sssh…” He slid his

arm around her waist,

his other across her shoulders, above

her breasts. Seeing

those overlapped forearms, sprinkled

with black hair and

the veins prominent and smooth on

the track up his biceps,

made it worse and better at once.

“I can’t—” She cut herself off,

twisting in his arms to slide

both of hers under his, pressing her

palms flat against his

back and her face into his throat. His

half foot of height

difference fitted them together

perfectly. Every marvelous

inch of his body against hers, hard

and soft together. “I’m

sorry, I’m so sorry…”

“What are you sorry for, sil y girl?”

He didn’t push her

away, instead holding her close, the

shower misting her

skin along her back.

Sheer bliss, this offer of comfort to

cocoon the disturbing

power of her arousal. And he saw

her as a girl.
Silly girl.

“I’m…sorry… You didn’t tel me I c-

could…h-hold you.”

“No, I didn’t. I’l punish you for that

later. For now, you stay

right where you are.” She heard

tender humor, laced with

something else. Again, not pity, but

something more

devastating. An intuitive caring that

saw to the bottom of her

soul.

Brushing the crown of her head with

his lips, he cupped

one palm over her shoulder blade,

the other molded into the

smal of her back, his thumb tracing

her spine. His cock

pressed into her stomach, his thighs

against the tops of

hers. Her breasts were mashed

against him, a burning

need centered where her nipples

made contact with his

chest. When she shifted, the base of

his cock, his testicles,

brushed against her mound, her clit.

Her breath left her in a

short gasp as the feeling rocketed

through her, constricting

the grip of her arms. She knew

thoughts of him had made

her moist the other day, and she

wondered if she was

getting wet again, if something so

unlikely could be

happening.

Stil holding her close, he eased them

into the shower,

turning her so she had the benefit of

the spray. He let her

hold onto him as he cupped her face,

threaded his fingers

in her hair so the water could saturate

it. She closed her

eyes, tilting her face back, wanting to

ful y experience the

way it felt, those strong hands taking

over, taking care. After

two days, the cleansing had an

emotional as wel as

physical effect.

He washed her hair. Put in the

shampoo, worked it in,

rinsed it until it was al out. But when

it came to the soap, he

gave her the lavender cake and

stepped back, leaning

against the wal . “I want to see you

wash. I want to see how

you touch yourself.”

She was steadier on her feet, enough

to be self-

conscious. But now that her hair was

clean, she wanted the

rest to be too, to be ready for

wherever else this might lead.

She rol ed the soap in her hands until

she had a lather.

Usual y, she started with the neck and

worked downward

without lingering, then applied the

razor in quick strokes

wherever needed with the pink

shaving gel propped in the

corner. She was glad she had a

roomy shower, though not

too roomy. She could reach out and

touch, but she’d

regained enough composure to know

she shouldn’t do that

again without permission. His

proximity had to be enough.

“Stop.”

She’d made a cautious pass over her

sternum and the

tops of her breasts with the soap, a

motion as functional as

a paint brush passing hastily over a

wal ’s unprotected

surface.

“That lather is my hand, Rachel.

Show me how it wil

touch you.” The look out of his blue

eyes was an

unexpected blast of undiluted male

lust. “You know exactly

how thorough I’l be.”

She gave a quick nod. Since she

knew she wasn’t brave

enough to fol ow that command while

looking at him, she

lowered her gaze. Making uncertain

circles high on her

chest, she started to move lower.

“I’m sure I would cup your breasts as

I washed them,

pinching the nipples to make sure

they were lathered

properly.”

He was guiding her, instructing her

on how to self-

pleasure. While she wasn’t an inept

teenager, she was

revisiting that awkward uncertainty

right now. She quel ed

the embarrassment, closing her hands

around her breasts.

It made her thigh muscles hum as he

continued. “That’s it. I

want to squeeze them, Rachel. I want

the nipples to get

hard, the areola getting dark and

flushed. You have

beautiful, large nipples.”

His cock, semi-erect during her

minor meltdown, was

rising once again, and under her avid

gaze, it looked as if it

would soon be brushing his bel y. He

wasn’t modest about

it at al , leaning there against her tile

shower wal , arms

crossed over his chest, al his

attention centered on her.

When she pinched her nipples, rol ed

them between her

fingertips, aided by the slick soap, a

whimper caught in her

throat.

“There you go. Keep doing that. I’d

keep doing it until you

were rocking forward in a fucking

rhythm against my touch,

because your body is gravitating

toward what it wants. To

be spread on my bed, those legs wide

open for my cock.

Your breasts tilted up, offering

themselves to my mouth. Or

maybe you’d like me in your mouth,

straddling your neck

while your pussy weeps for me. And

when I came, I’d move

down, clasp those heavy, gorgeous

tits around my cock,

fuck them as I came, spil ing myself

on your chest.

“Oh God,” she whispered. “Yes.”

Her gaze flickered up, just a quick

look, to see blue fire.

Then back down, to receive more

direction. “Your nipples

are nice and stiff now. Move down

your stomach, wash

everything else, but not your pussy or

between your

buttocks. Not until I say you can.”

She obeyed. He had to remind her

twice to keep her

pace slow, lingering. As a result, for

the first time in a long

while she was aware of the feel of

her own flesh, the length

of thigh, the softness of her skin, the

curve of hip. The line of

her ribs. Back up to her throat. The

sensitivity of that area