Afterlife (29 page)

her ear. “I’l bet Max peeked. You’re

too damn irresistible. I

don’t have to see to know you look

absolutely beautiful—it’s

coming off you in waves. Whatever

your heart truly desires,

you can have it tonight. I know it.”

* * * * *

Max remained where he was, eyes

closed, until Rachel

closed the door. Leaning against it,

she listened to him and

Dana move back down her hal way.

She was starting to feel

the way Dorothy might have if,

instead of being whirled

away to Oz, that glittering place had

set up camp
inside
her

gray farmhouse.

Her gaze went to the clock. Fifteen

minutes. He’d be on

his way here already, and she knew

he’d be prompt. He’d

have cal ed otherwise. Her gaze slid

over the room. She’d

turned on Kitaro’s
Silk Road

composition and the exotic

yet soothing melody fil ed the

apartment. When she’d

played part of it for Dana, the woman

had given her a

thumbs up.

“Peter and I are pretty much heavy

metal junkies, though

he’s also given me a new

appreciation for country songs

about shirtless boys on tractors.”

That quick grin. “I’d never

buy the stuff Jon plays, but when I’m

there at his place, it fits

the mood, the man, everything. This

is like that. It’s perfect.

For both of you.”

Thinking of the past few minutes with

Max, Rachel

remembered what Dana had said

about her night with

P eter
and
Ben. Had Jon done things

for Dana, under

Peter’s direction? Did she want to

know? Did she want to

experience such a thing for herself? If

any part of those

unsettling things Dana had said

earlier about the K&A men

were true—and certainly she’d

experienced something of

the sort in Jon’s office—it was a

very likely possibility.

It was pointless to speculate. She’d

already told herself

things were going no further than

tonight. Tonight was her

fantasy. Tomorrow she’d have to grip

reality, no matter

what.

Not for the first time, that weak litany

reminded her of

buying a whole chocolate cake on

impulse, having a piece,

then going to bed with the firm self-

admonition that she’d

throw the rest away in the morning

and never have another

fattening, decadent bite. She was old

enough to be smarter

than this. But here she was anyway.

At five to seven, she put his salad

bowl on his dinner

plate, scooped the blackberries, goat

cheese and

shredded greens into it, ladling a

light drizzle of vinaigrette

over it. She’d wrapped the bread in a

towel and put it in a

basket to his left, including a smal

dish of olive oil with

herbs. The eggplant parmesan was on

a trivet, the

casserole dish sealed to hold in heat.

She poured half a

glass of the red, setting the bottle in a

pewter wine holder to

breathe.

Unpinning her hair, she let it cascade

onto her bare

shoulders. Though she’d been naked

most of the day, now

she felt truly vulnerable and bare.

Kissing Dana, teasing

Max, it had been…adventurous,

playful. But this…the

trembling in her lower bel y told her

this was something else

entirely, if her mind wasn’t already

tel ing her that. It was

consumed with him. He’d be parking

in the lot, walking up

to her building. If her neighbors were

out, walking their dogs

or doing their evening jog, they’d see

him. They’d wonder

about that handsome, charismatic

man, wonder whom he

was going to visit.

Would they believe it was her, the

middle-aged tenant of

401D, the one they usual y saw

leaving in exercise clothes

or her practical therapy wear? Could

they imagine her now,

kneeling like this, waiting by his

chair, waiting to serve his

every desire? Could they imagine al

the things he might do

to her tonight?

She’d had to dry herself between her

legs more than

once over the course of the day, her

arousal an ebb and

flow, depending on the direction of

her thoughts, or Dana’s

provocation. Now her thoughts made

a heated drop trickle

over her calf, where her legs were

folded beneath her. It

was too close to time, so she didn’t

move. She had the

titil ating thought that he would want

to see her arousal,

wouldn’t want her to wipe it away.

Col ecting it on his

fingers, his tongue, his cock…that

was his right, not hers.

When the clock chimed seven, al

rights were his.

He’d be walking up her stairs. He

wasn’t the elevator

type, not for a mere three floors. The

shaking was back,

sweeping out from her lower bel y,

through her thighs, her

breath shortening. She’d left the door

unlocked, as he’d

commanded. Her only responsibility

now was to wait.

Her gaze lifted to the clock. One

minute. Her eyes

closed. The building had excel ent

insulation. Even the

McPhersons, who lived directly

below and who had two

young boys who didn’t do anything at

a walk or low decibel,

rarely penetrated the quiet of her

corner apartment. It was

something she’d always appreciated,

but now she wasn’t

as pleased by the solid

weatherproofing on her door that

muffled approaching footsteps. But

she could envision it.

His walk, the way his body moved,

the intensity of the blue

eyes.

For hours he’d fil ed her mind, but

now she hungered for

the real man. His scent, his heat, his

presence
. Even if it

was just the sound of his shoes

rasping along the concrete

walkway, she couldn’t wait another

second to grasp some

tangible evidence of him. Her clit

was back to throbbing

beneath that metal sheath, a tiny

heartbeat.

The door latch turned, and she had to

make her fists

relax. Just in time, she remembered

the position he

required. Straightening her spine, she

laced her fingers at

the smal of her back, which thrust out

her breasts. As she

spread her knees to shoulder width,

her hair whispered

over her left shoulder, fal ing

forward over the breast. She

was staring down at her pussy, seeing

the tracks of her

arousal on her thighs, the flush of her

erect nipples. The

satiny finish of her red heels pressed

into her buttocks.

The time for panic, the “what the hel

am I doing?” was

past. She was committed to this path

now, for tonight.

There was a freedom in that, such

that one anxiety went

away, leaving an entirely different

kind in its place.

Her breath slipped out in a sigh as

she caught his scent.

She literal y felt his energy enter her

apartment, spread out,

touch her. The bolt turned, the

doorknob locked and the

chain slid into place. Each metal ic

click twisted her tension

even further. Suddenly, the throbbing

in her clit was a fire.

With one touch, he could set her off,

al that banked sexual

need recognizing that release was so

close…but if it was

his desire, he could also prolong it

for hours.

He’d stopped at the archway to her

dining nook. She

could feel him assessing everything,

how she’d fol owed his

instructions. If she was braver, if she

could believe in a

future, she might have said, no matter

how her voice shook,

“Good evening, Master.” But she

didn’t. She just waited.

When he moved, stopped behind her,

her fingers flexed

in their tangle at her lower back. He

touched her hair, and

she gasped, trying hard not to lean

into his hand, but

wanting to, more than she’d wanted

to do anything her

whole life. Her calves were now so

slick with her juices she

had to tense her thighs so she

wouldn’t slide to one hip.

Above her knotted hands, something

ticklish, soft, slid up

her spine. Flowers. He let them spil

over her shoulder so

she could turn her face into that spray

of wildflowers, a

plethora of colors, textures,

fragrances.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

The flowers slipped away, and she

heard the whisper of

them being laid on the tablecloth.

Then his fingers slid over

her spine. It was such a dizzying rush

to feel that contact, it

took her a moment to realize he’d

unlocked the padlock to

the waist chain.

“Lift your chin, keep your eyes

down.”

That firm, even voice. Her pussy

spasmed, hard, and she

made a smal whimper, even more

desperate than what

Max had heard. When he touched the

col ar, she spoke

before she could stop herself.

“Please don’t.”

He stil ed. “Please don’t what,

Rachel?”

“Don’t take the col ar off. Please.”

“I won’t. I’m taking everything else

away though. No

talking again until I give you

permission.”

He unhooked the chain in front with a

set of pliers, and it

dropped into the vee of her lap. It

glanced off the clit hood,

making her jolt.

“Lean forward on your hands. Calf

pose. Knees spread

the same width.”

The
asana
required a concave

position for the back, like

a sway-backed cow, but it also lifted

the ass pertly in the

air. With her knees spread out that

way, he was seeing

everything. He removed the chain

from her waist and from

between her buttocks, and then his

fingers slid between her

legs, cupped the clit piece and the

clamp inside her labia

that had held it in place, as wel as

kept her pussy open.

She shuddered, but managed to hold

her position. When

he pul ed it al away from her, leaving

her in nothing but the

col ar, she moaned at the friction, her

arms quivering.

What was he thinking? What had he

thought, seeing her

waiting for him as he’d commanded?

Did he think she was

beautiful and irresistible, as Dana

had said? Was she

going to real y take herself into that

insecure territory?

“Child’s pose. Frog modification.”

He’d straightened up now, and she

dropped her ass

down on her heels, spreading her

knees so her upper body,

her abdomen and breasts, pressed to

the carpet along with

her forehead. Her arms stretched

forward, fingertips

reaching.

“Grip the table leg, at the foot.”

As she did, he stroked the line of her

spine. “That metal

piece was so wet. Your clit was

slippery as the inside of an

oyster shel . You’ve been aroused al

day, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve been hard al day, thinking about

it. I want my dinner,

but I want this first.”

He slid his hand beneath her then,

thumb pressing

against her anus, his other fingers

sliding through the slick

lips of her pussy and settling over her

clit. He stroked her

with al five digits, sending an

explosion of sensation

through her.

“Oh…” She cried out, and yet he

continued that

methodical stroke as her body

convulsed, trying so hard to

hold the pose he’d demanded.

“This is my pussy, isn’t it, Rachel? I

can demand anything

I want from it. And I want it to come.

Right now.”

Child’s pose was aptly named,

because for this it made

her as vulnerable and unprotected as

a babe. In the folded

position, she couldn’t move her

lower body, except for

those tiny, involuntary rocks of

motion, and it made the

power of that long-withheld climax

al the more explosive.

Her gaze inadvertently flitted to the

clock. Seven-oh-two.

Two minutes since he’d arrived and

she was…

Her mind lost the script, lost al sense

of place and time

as the climax detonated, exploded,

literal y ripped through

her. The power of it was terrifying,

overwhelming, eternal.

Even the wel -insulated wal s

couldn’t possibly muffle harsh

screams like this, but she was beyond

such things. She