Authors: Joey W. Hill
made her close her eyes briefly, and
she could tel his
attention sharpened on her reaction.
She shaved her legs,
bracing herself against the wal as he
continued to watch.
His gaze lingered between her legs
as she had to brace
her foot against the porcelain rest
provided in the corner.
At that angle, he could see her pink,
flushed sex. In the
shower, it might look moist and
ready, whatever its true
state was. She wanted to find out, but
he’d told her she
couldn’t touch herself there. Plus, she
was afraid she would
find what she usual y found. A bare
hint of true lubrication,
but something dammed up inside her,
holding the natural
fluids back.
Uneasy now, she placed the razor
back in its cradle.
She’d done her pubic area and
armpits, which had brought
her self-consciousness back, since
those areas required
less elegant contortions than the legs.
He’d noted every
shift of her muscles, the creamy track
of soap, the water
pattering down upon her. Five
minutes had passed since
he’d said anything. His focus was
unnerving, yet also
captivating. Then she was rinsed and
clean, al of her but
those two parts he’d specifical y
forbidden her to wash.
“Soap.” When he put his hand out for
it, she hesitated.
She hadn’t showered in two days,
after al .
“Maybe I should—”
When those three words left her lips,
something
changed. Like the strike of a cobra, it
wasn’t something she
saw happen. His countenance, the
arrangement of muscles
in his face, the posture of his
powerful, shamelessly naked
body, al told her she would obey him
in this. The weak
protest died in her throat.
She remembered those Internet sites
she’d visited, with
Doms who came down on any show
of resistance or
disagreement like a snarling tantrum,
making her wonder if
that was what most submissives
craved. Or oddly, if they
were truly Doms or just pretending,
because somehow it
felt forced, even on their side.
Even more oddly, it had made her
think of a section of
one of her favorite childhood books,
Black Beauty
. How
some humans thought, to make a
horse do their bidding,
they had to jerk his mouth, dig their
heels into his sides so
hard. In reality, if the horse was
trained correctly, he would
respond to the lightest guidance of the
leg and rein without
question, because he wanted to serve
his Master, was
eager to do so.
She placed the soap in his hand.
Curving his other hand under her
hair, he turned her
toward the wal . “Lean forward and
take hold of the safety
bar. Spread your feet out shoulder
width, and lift your ass
toward me.”
The quivering was back in ful force,
but she managed to
obey. She was partial y under the
spray, but she stil felt the
pressure of his fingers, sliding over
her shoulder blades,
gathering up her hair and twisting it
so it fel over her right
shoulder. Then he smoothed his palm
down the curve of her
back. As he did, he picked up the
long-handled scrubbing
brush she kept in the shower for
cleaning it once a week.
“Eyes forward, Rachel.”
She obeyed, imagining al sorts of
things, not so sure
now, but then—
Thwack!
She yelped as the flat of that brush hit
her with precision
at the most generous portion of her
right buttock. It stung,
but it didn’t overwhelm her with
pain. Instead, something
rocketed through her, head to toes,
making the latter dig
into the wet tile.
“That’s a reminder,” he said, his
voice enhanced by the
water’s rush. “Do you understand?”
She nodded. “Y-yes.” Why couldn’t
she say anything to
him without stammering?
“Be stil now. Feel.”
From the change in water flow, she
knew he’d directed
the spigot away from them. In the
blurry reflection on the
glossy tile, she knew he was
lathering his hands, setting the
soap aside. Then he put his hands on
her waist, lingering
there. The gesture made her feel
feminine, an hourglass
cinched in the middle by those long,
elegant fingers and
large palms. As he moved
downward, the soap made his
passage slippery, heated. He braced
one of those palms
on her left buttock as the other slid
between her spread
legs.
She jumped, she couldn’t help it.
Cursing herself, she
went rigid, trying to hold the posture,
fighting the panic that
leaped into her throat at such an
unwelcome reaction. “I-I’m
sorry.”
“Rachel.” He continued his
movements, his knuckles
brushing the delicate crease between
labia and thigh, and
then his palm sealed itself over her
pussy, his fingers
settling with possessive skil on either
side of her clit,
applying the lightest of pressure.
A convulsion—no other word for it
—vibrated from the
soles of her feet, al the way to her
stiffly held neck. “Oh…”
The word was a strangled syl able,
echoing in the enclosed
space. “Oh God…”
It wasn’t a climax of course, but
something as intense. A
need that held her prisoner in its grip.
“Rachel.” He repeated himself,
patient, but there was a
thickness to his voice that told her he
wasn’t unaffected by
her reaction.
“Y-yes.” Thank heavens he’d known
her for a while, or he
real y would think she had a stutter.
“Don’t apologize for anything again,
unless I demand an
apology from you. The fact a man has
not touched and
pleasured you in such a long time that
it’s strange to you,”
his palm moved, an easy movement
that sent his soapy
fingers gliding over the petals of her
sex, and then an
intimate dip inside, rubbing,
cleaning, “is nothing to
apologize for. That’s for damn sure.”
The last four words were spoken
with visceral male
satisfaction. It helped, because she
couldn’t stop making
those gasps and whimpers as he
stroked and probed,
cleaning her. It felt…maybe, like she
was slippery, but that
could be the soap. When he removed
his touch from that
area, he kept his palm curved over
her mound as an anchor
point as he used the other hand to
clean between her
buttocks. It kept fountains of glittering
sensation shooting up
into her body.
She’d thought a lot about anal play,
had explored herself
there and been startled by how
erogenous a zone the rim
area was, but to have it actual y
massaged by a male hand,
her bottom stil smarting from the
strike with the brush, was
stunningly different. With his other
hand stil stimulating her
pussy, it was automatic to moan and
lift her ass even higher
to his touch, taking herself to her
toes, hands clutching the
safety bar.
“None of that now.” He pressed on
her lower back,
putting her flat on her feet again.
“You stay in the position
I’ve put you. No begging for more.
That’s for me to say.”
He cleaned her, then took the shower
head off its mount
and rinsed her as thoroughly, passing
his fingers more
intimately over her than her husband
had during al their
years together. Throughout it al she
stayed stil , though she
quaked and shivered, and made those
cries. She thought
she sounded like a lost lamb, those
tiny bleats of emotions,
and she pressed her forehead to the
wal , familiar despair
sweeping back in with the thought.
She wanted the next
step, wanted to be clean and see what
would happen, but
she was afraid of it too.
Maybe he’d cosset her, tuck her back
into bed, and that
would be the end of it for now. She’d
be left feeling as loose
and wild as she had when he left her
studio that day. She
couldn’t bear that. He was a man, he
was naked and
aroused. Surely, if nothing else, he
would simply fuck her
while she was stil slippery with
soap. Then it wouldn’t
matter what she could or couldn’t do.
She could hold onto
the feeling of having him deep in her
body. Of being joined,
however briefly, to another soul. She
could feed herself on
that for a long, long time.
How many times had she explained
to Cole that, even
without the orgasm or natural
lubrication, she needed that
connection, the feeling of being
desired, needed, fil ed?
Jon had already made her feel that in
spades, without even
touching her, real y. She could pay
him back by giving him
what he wanted, and what she
needed.
She wouldn’t leave it to chance. If
she persuaded him to
do it now, up against the shower wal
, he might not notice
whatever deficiencies she had in the
response department.
That spiked bal in her lower bel y
stabbed her with
desperation, told her she had to
clutch it now, before the
chance slid away like a slippery fish.
Spinning around, she intended to
move into him, be
blatant about what she was offering.
But when she lunged
at him, he caught her by the waist. In
one astonishingly deft
move, he’d flipped her around so her
back was against his
front. He held her immobilized as he
braced his body
against the shower wal .
“Rachel, sshh. Easy. No.” When she
struggled, he made
it clear how easily he overpowered
her. “Settle now. Stop.”
She bit her bottom lip, squeezing her
eyes shut. One
hand had landed on his thigh, her
nails digging in, the other
clawing his forearm. “Let me go. I
want you to do this. I
need you to go ahead and do this
now
.”
“No you don’t. That’s the very last
thing you need. Al
right, that’s
enough
.”
When she hesitated at the sharpened
tone, startled, he
shifted, taking her arm from his thigh.
She gasped as he
pushed open the shower door, pul ed
her out and in the
same smooth movement, bent and
hefted her over his
shoulder in a fireman’s half-carry.
His hand landed on her
bottom, holding her there, her wrist
firmly in his other grip.
“You aren’t ready to let me do
anything for you, Rachel.
You’re stil too wrapped up in your
head.”
“No…” She gasped it. If he left her
now, just left her here,
she couldn’t bear it. “I’m sorry, I
didn’t mean—”
“Be quiet. You need a Master with a
strong hand, Rachel.
One who’s not going to
let
you do
anything. You’l do as I
command and that’s the end of it.”
Chapter Five
She was stil whirling over the
meaning of that when he
took her through her bedroom in a
few determined strides.
How a man could be bare-assed
naked and appear so in
control, like a warrior striding across
his camp, she didn’t
know, but he accomplished it. She’d
been vaguely aware
he’d been carrying a briefcase when
he shouldered into her
apartment. Now he took her to her
foyer and barely paused
in stride as he picked it up. As he
pivoted, she noticed he
was careful to protect her head and
shoulders from the tal
lamp next to her end table in the
sitting room before he
headed back to her bedroom.
“This can’t work,” she said, even
more panicked.
“Please, Jon…”
He slid her off his shoulder, pushing
her to a sitting
position on the bed. Bracing a long
arm on either side of
her, he clamped his hands over her
wrists, keeping her
palms flat on the mattress. Then he
put his mouth on hers,
in such a strong and penetrating kiss
that her head was
pushed backward and the muscles of
her arms flexed
against his hold, trying to stay
upright. What little rational
thought she had scattered beneath that
demand, her whole
body shifting focus to the heat of his