Afterlife (13 page)

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