Afterlife (33 page)

thighs and kept her on

her back, body sloped down to the

bed, head on the pil ow.

It pushed his cock up high inside her.

His eyes flickered,

registering the ripple of reaction over

her skin, the arch of

her back, the swal ow that moved her

throat.

“You know, when we’re young, and

we fal or cut

ourselves, we take pride in those

marks, after they

happen.” Though he had her impaled,

that velvet voice was

the most persistent restraint of al . He

was opening his shirt,

and now he pul ed it to the side,

showing her a longer scar

that ran along his left side. Her

fingers fluttered to settle on

his bare skin, savoring the chance. “I

was trying to create a

Fortress of Solitude out of long

window glass shards I took

from a construction site bin. I tripped

and fel into a pile of

them.”

“Ouch.” Automatical y, her fingers

smoothed over the line,

but he caught her wrist, brought her

attention back up to

him. Now he touched her face, traced

the lines that fanned

out from her eye.

“Every crease here is a smile, a tear,

laughter. They’re

layers over that nineteen-year-old

girl who didn’t know then

what it was to lose a child, or to have

your husband hurt you

so deeply.”

“I didn’t divorce him.” It was hard to

push the words out.

The truth was taking the air out of the

room. But he stroked

her throat, eased the lump there.

“I know you didn’t. He divorced

you.”

“H-how do you know that?”

Increasing his grip on her hips now,

he slid partway out,

then came back in at the precarious

angle. Her pussy

quivered around him, her nipples

tightening under his gaze.

Though he was beautiful, tempting as

a god like this, she

wanted him completely naked, lying

down upon her. She

wanted to feel the muscles of his bare

thighs pressing

against the soft flesh inside of hers.

“A submissive of a certain nature wil

never leave the

person she considers her Dom, even

if he isn’t one. Or

doesn’t deserve the title.” His mouth

became a hard line

now, his eyes delving back into her

in that way that stripped

her raw, yet sheltered her from the

wind at the same time.

“She refuses to give up on the

relationship. She’l kil

herself, her soul, trying to please, to

figure out what the

answer is. She can’t walk away,

demand something else.

Certain submissives can, but you

can’t.”

She was turning into a wreck, a

tangled mess of

heartbreak and arousal, old emotions

warring with the new.

He leaned down, whispered into her

hair, and she held onto

his voice, the feel of his body joining

with hers.

“I saw that nineteen-year-old the first

time I met you.

That’s why I cal you a girl at times. I

see that sweetness

and hope and fragility, al of it

beneath those life

experiences that made you the strong

woman you are.”

She’d never seen herself as strong.

Not until now, looking

into the eyes of a man who believed

it. Who believed in her.

“You remember earlier, what you

said to me about not

needing promises or commitments?”

She nodded, a quick jerk. “It made

you mad. I’m sorry, I

just—”

“I’m talking now.” The tone was

mild, but the look in his

eyes wasn’t. She closed her mouth.

“One of the reasons I

wanted to get the spanking out of the

way was because I

was about to lose my temper. And

that doesn’t happen too

often. Lie stil .”

Though she couldn’t help a sound of

anguish, he shushed

her as he withdrew from her body.

When he tucked himself

back into his slacks, he gave her a

brief glimpse of her

juices glistening on the ful length of

his cock. He left the

shirt open, though, and pul ed her up.

She was back in his

lap, his feet on the floor as he sat on

the edge of the bed.

Taking hold of her jaw, he caressed

her throat, holding her

attention.

“I’m only going to say this once.

You’re not going to talk

about this being a one-night deal or a

temporary situation

any more. I won’t tolerate it.”

Over the past couple days, as wel as

tonight, she’d had

a couple glimpses of this side of Jon,

a man she’d always

before associated only with a firm

quietude and gentleness.

What had surprised her was she

responded to him as a

Master, whether he was being

merciful or ruthless. But this

side of him had the ability to keep her

completely stil , as if

his gaze was a lock as unshakable as

restraints he’d put on

her. It also sent a quaking feeling

through the deepest parts

of her, the same way such physical

restraints would have.

“You’re the type of woman who

needs commitment,” he

said. “Love. If I wasn’t prepared to

bring those to the table

as part of what I can offer you, I

never would have started

this. So if you try to run from me, run

from that, you’l find I

don’t shake that easily.”

Lifting a brow, he raked his glance

over her. “When I’m

inventing, I focus on what I know wil

fix a problem. I’m not a

heavy-handed Master, but if I think

that’s what you need,

that’s what you’l get. You ever try

spouting that bul shit

again, you won’t sit down for a

week. You got through a

marriage by lying to him about what

you needed, when he

didn’t have the bal s or depth of soul

to handle the truth. You

won’t need to do that with me and,

what’s more, you won’t

get away with it. You got it?”

She stared up at him, those words

tingling through al her

extremities, and swirling thick and

heavy in her core. “Yes,”

she managed.

“Yes, what?”

He was going to insist, no matter how

many times it

pul ed at the fears inside of her.

“Jon…”

He slid his hand ful y around her

throat, squeezing above

the col ar, making her pussy react. He

knew total

possession was the key to her

pleasure. “When you were

sitting by my chair, waiting for me to

come to you, what did

you want? What was it you wanted

more than anything?”

“To please you.”

“Any Master who walked through

that door? Like Peter or

Lucas? Or Max?”

She flushed. “I didn’t—”

“Just answer the question.”

“No.” She was sure on that. “Just

you. With them, it was

because of you… I haven’t felt like

this…for anyone. Ever.”

Those stern eyes went vibrant, like

pools of deep

Caribbean waters. Daring, she

reached up, traced his lips.

When he al owed it, pressing a kiss

into her palm, relief and

terror warred inside her. “I’m so

afraid.”

“I know. I’m here, Rachel. I’m not

going anywhere.”

He nipped a finger, gave her a sweet,

lingering kiss on

her lips that changed the mood, took

her away from those

paths into a different part of the

garden he was offering to

her. When he moved his lips to her

erratic wrist pulse, she

slid several silken feathers of his hair

between her

knuckles. The dark paths were stil

there, stil cal ing to her,

but at least for this moment he’d

made her believe it was

okay.

“You wanted to know one thing about

me,” he murmured

against her skin. “‘I’l give you one of

those twenty-five-

thousand things now.”

It worried her, what he was going to

say. That darkness

stil felt too close, and she was sure

he’d overestimated her

courage, what she could handle right

now. She even closed

her eyes as he spoke, too afraid to

see it happen.

“That is some of the best damn

marinara I’ve ever

tasted.”

* * * * *

When her eyes opened, startled, he

had a faint smile on

his face, though his eyes remained on

hers, far too shrewd,

watching her every reaction, every

emotion that flickered

over her face. “That’s not real y

something about you,” she

said at last.

“It is if I tel you that your marinara is

now my absolute

favorite, because of the way it tastes

when I suck it off your

nipples.”

Then his mouth was on hers, giving

her the remnants of

that flavor, as wel as the musk from

when he’d plunged his

tongue into her pussy. He made the

kiss lazy, tantalizing,

nipping at her mouth. She clung to

him, her body loose and

liquid beneath his as he at last pushed

her back onto the

bed. She wondered at his

unpredictability, how it kept her

emotions from setting into one track.

He might do it

deliberately, though so much about

him seemed intuitive,

as if he was in her head, anticipating

her even before she

knew what she wanted.

He shrugged off the shirt, the rounded

curves of his

shoulders gleaming in the dim light

thrown by her bedside

lamp. “Lay your arms above your

head, beautiful girl,” he

ordered, his hand at his slacks again.

“Hold onto the rails of

the headboard.”

She obeyed. The tracks of her tears

were drying, and

while the sadness that had caused

them lingered, it had

competition with the coil in her

lower bel y that responded to

the command, to what might be about

to happen.

“Open your legs, bend them at the

knee. Show me your

pussy, how much it wants my touch.”

Limbs quaking, she did it. That

trembling seemed to be a

permanent state around him, as if

everything he did rocked

the foundation of who and what she

was.

Bless al the gods, he discarded the

slacks and boxers

beneath, coming to her lean and

gorgeous and naked at

last, a thin foil packet in his hand.

His cock was brushing

his bel y again, just as her cunt was

slick and needy once

more. As she watched, he slid the

condom over himself.

She realized then he hadn’t done so

before, and the only

reason she could determine in her

desire-fogged mind was

he’d had no intention of finishing at

that point. That he’d

known how it would affect her, the

first time, and he’d given

her time to experience that wave of

overwhelming emotion,

shuddering in his arms from the mere

act of penetration.

And he’d made it skin to skin,

underscoring the intimacy in

a safe way.

He’d shown both enviable control

and overwhelming

sensitivity at once. While she loved

the latter, she had room

for the physical now, and she wanted

to see him lose

control, feel it. And she wanted to

lose control with him.

As he rol ed on the latex, her hands

curled on the

spindles of the headboard, a poor

substitute for his heated,

thick length. One part of her wanted

to do that for him.

Another wanted to beg him to leave it

off. She had no fear

of disease, not from Jon. He would

never expose a woman

to any kind of danger from himself.

As for the other…she

couldn’t articulate it, too many

vulnerable emotions

involved. She wished she had the

bravery to fol ow her

heart, to ask him to leave it off. But

that wouldn’t be fair. Jon

would never leave a child without a

father.

“Rachel.” His palm settled once

more on her upper

abdomen, connecting her to his

energy, drawing her gaze

back up to his face. “Focus only on

me. On this. Feel.”

Kneeling between her knees, he

guided himself to her,

pausing at the ring of tight muscle.

“Relax for me. Just like

class, we’re moving together. We fit

together.”

Her lips parted, throat working at the

promise of that

connection, and her muscles eased,

pul ing him in. As

before, he kept his eyes on her face,

studying every change

in her expression, her parted lips.

He’d made her leave the

heels on, and they stabbed into the

mattress pil owtop, for

he kept the other hand on one of her