Authors: Joey W. Hill
knees, tel ing her he
wanted her to maintain the bent-
legged position until he
was ful y seated again. At this angle,
she felt the pressure
of that glide into her body even more
acutely, such that she
was making those noises in her throat
as he sank in to the
hilt.
He lowered himself onto her body
then, sliding one
strong arm behind her shoulders. “Put
your legs around me.
High on my back. I want those sexy
stilettos brushing my
shoulder blades.”
She complied, loving the way it felt,
him so closely joined
to her, his face so close, hands
touching her, commanding
her body. He held her stil then, one
palm closing on her
thigh. “By the end of tonight, I’m
going to have tasted every
inch of you, Rachel Madison. Taken
you so many times
you’l have trouble walking. I’d love
to come to your Monday
class and enjoy the hel out of seeing
you explain to your
class why you’re not as limber as you
usual y are. And the
whole time you’d go through the
practice, I’d be thinking
about fucking you in the showers
right afterward.”
“That wil make it hard to…reach a
medita-meditative
state.”
“Having trouble talking, sweet girl?”
The look he sent her
was pure male satisfaction, and she
tried to steady her
voice, give him a spirited vol ey in
return.
“It’s only Friday. I’d heal by
Monday.”
“You assume I’m going to let you out
of this bed this
weekend.” He adjusted himself even
more deeply then, a
tiny pain. When she made a noise of
helpless pleasure, al
teasing left his expression.
“From this night on, I consider it al
mine. Every beautiful
blonde lock of hair, that tender spot
on your knee, the pretty
line of your ankle. Your pussy, your
breasts, your gorgeous
round ass. It’s al mine. Say it.”
“Y-yours.”
He put his forehead to hers, touched
her lips, barely a
breath. “Say it without the fear,
Rachel. Feel it deep inside.
Say it.”
“Yours.” A whisper, like a breeze
sliding through her, sure
and quiet. Incontrovertible.
“Good. And being mine means I’l
make sure you know
what pleasure feels like, not just in
your body but in your
heart, mind and soul. I’l dedicate
myself to it. I’l satisfy your
every desire, every fantasy, and in
return, you’l give me al
of it, every deep part of yourself,
because I meant what I
said earlier. I’l take care of you. You
can’t trust any of it yet,
but you wil . For now, I’l keep saying
it so you can keep
remembering it.”
She couldn’t have found words to
answer such incredible
things, but she didn’t have the chance.
He pul ed out, then
thrust back in, and she arched up to
him, crying out at the
power and determination behind it.
Al the restraint he’d
shown up until now, the finesse, the
lingering torment, were
left behind. He did in fact know what
she needed, when she
needed it. Now he gave her a
Master’s lust, his animal
possession, made her feel like she
would be pushed to
serve him to the last ounce of energy,
with every straining
muscle.
Despite the recent climax, the
punishing, excruciating
rhythm had her body climbing that
steep rol er coaster
again. She clung to him with legs and
arms, burying her
face into his neck, the strands of his
hair against her
forehead.
He’d teased her about the marinara,
letting her have
some breathing room. But these
earth-shattering words
were a reminder that there was an
invisible leash attached
to that col ar she stil wore, and he
would only let her back
away a certain amount. It was thril
ing and terrifying at once,
a duality she was beginning to accept
went hand in hand
with her first-in-a-lifetime feelings
for Jon.
How many times had she told herself
that, after tonight,
after this point or that point, she’d
back away, push him to
arms’ length? She’d been fooling
herself. One didn’t push a
Master at al . Not unless one was wil
ing to deal with the
consequences.
She wouldn’t survive it. To do that,
she’d have to accept
the improbable was possible, and
that she could trust him.
That she could believe the things he
said about her, things
she couldn’t believe herself.
So, ultimately, it wasn’t about not
trusting him. It was
about not trusting herself, the courage
of her own heart.
She’d doubted that part of herself
from the first time she’d
seen her failure in Cole’s eyes. Now
the organ beating so
frantical y in her chest had so many
cracks, there was no
way it was strong enough for this.
The problem was, she
didn’t think Jon was going to give her
any other choice.
That too was a thril ing and terrifying
possibility.
Chapter Twelve
Jon had enjoyed the company of many
submissives, as
Rachel had accurately guessed. He’d
never had one like
her. Though he always cared for the
women he bedded, he
didn’t have the emotional investment
he had with this one.
Stil , it amazed the man and roused
the Master to fever
pitch, the way she anticipated his
demands as if she knelt
obediently in his brain, watching
every flicker of activity
beneath her silky lashes.
He’d depleted her emotional y and
expected that to affect
her physical endurance. As such, he
anticipated outlasting
her tonight, driving her over the edge
of exhaustion and
beyond, and he did. He’d intended to
do so. As he’d said,
he wasn’t a heavy-handed Dom, but
he knew when it was
needed. She needed his ruthless
demands, because they
fed a soul too long starved of the
chance to serve a Master.
Every time he took her body, or put
her on her knees to
suck him off again, or placed her
back in Child’s pose to
eat her pussy to climax, she gave him
every ounce of
energy she had. Her voice became
hoarse from
screaming, and her legs trembled if
she tried to stand, such
that he had to help her to the
bathroom when it was
needed. She didn’t want him to go in
with her, and he let
her have that, understanding a
woman’s vanity, but he was
at the door to take her back to the
bed. Seeing how much
she wanted to give him, beyond the
last reservoir of
strength she possessed, made his
heart fil with feelings he
knew exactly what to cal , feelings
she was too afraid yet to
hear.
He’d seen the look in her eyes when
he’d first put on the
condom, and he’d read the emotions
clearly enough that
the Dominant in him had wanted to
toss aside the irrelevant
thing and take her the way he should,
nothing between
them. But the feelings that kept her
silent, stil thinking this
would end, had stopped him. Just as
she was afraid of
binding him to her unwil ingly, he
wouldn’t ever let her
believe that a life they created was
what made this
permanent. There would be time for
al that, once he had
her heart nestled trustingly in his
hand.
The last time, when he slid inside her
—rough enough to
make her moan with a slave’s deep
desire to feel the pain
with the pleasure, gently enough not
to abuse sore tissues
too much—she managed to wrap her
arms and legs
around him, but she was clinging like
a leaf not sure of its
grip. He’d depleted her to the point
she thought she wasn’t
capable of another orgasm, and he
suspected she was
right—at least in this position. He
gave her his once more
though, because he knew she needed
that, needed to know
she’d served her Master wel .
Then he showed her that serving her
Master wel also
meant giving him
her
pleasure when
he demanded it. Once
again gagging her with the cock plug
he’d brought, he slid
down her body and spent long,
leisurely minutes arousing
her with his mouth. Thanks to Lucas’
tutelage in how to re-
awaken a woman who’d been
stimulated repeatedly, he
was able to bring her back to a short
but intense climax that
had a smal amount of her cream
spurting on his tongue
one last time. It drove him crazy
seeing the way she was
sucking on that gag frenetical y at the
end, her hungry eyes
wanting his cock. But he wanted to
give her tenderness
now. She’d earned it.
So instead, he removed the gag and
rol ed her over onto
her stomach to give her a thorough
Tantric massage. He
started at her feet, pressing his
thumbs into the soles,
working his way up her legs. He took
his time on her
shoulders, an even-handed, rol ing
and caressing of the
muscles. The chakra clearing was
trickier, because as he
passed his hands six inches over her
body, he had to flick
his wrists repeatedly to get rid of the
more destructive
energies. It was like sloughing a
snake’s skin even as he
saw a new one forming. He put aside
his ego, knowing
years of pain and denial weren’t
going to be obliterated in
one night. He’d have to be satisfied
that he’d stirred those
chakra energies up quite a bit tonight,
knocked a lot of
things loose.
He’d been tel ing her the truth.
However long it took, he
was here. She wasn’t going to shake
him or shut him out.
When he was done and brought her
food and drink, he
had to lift her to a seated position.
She blinked blearily at
him. He’d brought some eggplant and
bread, the wine for
him and water for her. She’d put a
pitcher of ice water and
a glass on the table if he wanted it
with his food. She’d
thought of things like that, and he
knew anticipating his
needs, both domestic and sexual,
were an integral part of
her nature. He wondered and cursed
at the ex-husband, a
man he didn’t know but who had so
obviously not
appreciated the gift she was. Worse
—instead of
appreciating it, he’d abused it.
Setting those negative thoughts aside,
he lifted her,
moved them to a roomy easy chair in
her bedroom.
Adjusting her in his lap, both of them
naked, skin to skin, he
shared a plate of eggplant parmesan
and a glass of water
with her, occasional y sipping at the
wineglass he left on the
floor to his left. True to what he’d
promised, he didn’t let her
touch a fork or glass with her fingers.
He fed her himself
and satisfied her thirst by holding the
glass to her lips and
watching the movement of her
graceful throat as she
swal owed.
When at last she slept, he held her
close. There was a
quivering undercurrent to her repose,
one that made her
press herself to him, slide her arms
around his shoulders,
hold on tight. In the unconscious state
of her dreams she
sought the comfort of male
companionship, the Master
she’d lacked for far too long.
He kept his arms banded around her,
rocked her, al
without waking her, soothing her in
those dreams. He was
here, she wasn’t alone.
His gaze moved over the room,
lingered on the closet
where the photo album was hidden.
Her life with her
husband had made her brittle, fragile,
and the death of her
son was the tragedy that shattered her
completely, turned
her into this shel . But Jon had known
she was stil there,
burrowed deep in its spiraling
tunnels. The truth had been in
between the lines of what she’d told
him at his office.
If her husband had simply been a
vanil a guy who didn’t
understand the D/s compulsions of
his wife but who truly,
deeply loved her nevertheless, they
could have figured
something out. As Jon had
recognized, she wasn’t the kind