Afterlife (43 page)

mouth was so busy at her

pussy, more hands and mouths on her

nipples. Suckling,

teasing, as other places were stroked,

gripped and pul ed.

She snapped her head back on her

shoulders, then rocked

it forward, her hair tangling around

her face. The book had

changed to match the image she was

feeling. Two men,

taking a woman from the front and

behind, as others closed

in, pressing a kiss along her thigh,

sucking her fingers,

biting her throat.

This time it was a scream he wrested

from her, as those

sensations descended upon her in ful

force, engaging her

imagination and taking it even further.

The tongue was

replaced by a definite penetration, a

sense of a man’s cock

stretching her, his testicles pushing

down on the outside,

his cock stretching her enough her clit

felt the pressure, the

friction. At that same moment, the

finger now deep inside

her rectum withdrew…she
felt
it

withdraw, and then it was

replaced. Burning, as if a thick cock

had pushed into her

from behind, taking her ass at the

same time another man

took her pussy.

The suckling feeling on her nipples

increased, as did the

sense that a hand was closed on her

throat, holding her,

reminding her she was her Master’s

slave, al of this done

by his wil . The stimulation was

incredible, overpowering,

overwhelming. She was vibrating in

the chair, responding to

the thrusts, even if she couldn’t move

much.

The holographic images around her

had changed, no

longer gentle, sensual nature scenes.

It was a crowd of

men, rough-looking, raw, alpha men,

men with lust in their

eyes, watching, waiting, because they

would take her like

this, over and over again, at her

Master’s behest, bringing

her to climax until she was overcome

from too many brain-

shattering orgasms. She could feel

their hot breath, the

heat of their lust, sense the arousals

pressing against

constricted jeans, visualize the flex

of muscles under their

T-shirts. Many were shirtless, an

outright display of virility.

She imagined those muscles rippling,

firm buttocks

pumping as they shoved into her, took

her to ecstasy, again

and again. They would take, because

her Master had

decreed they could, because he fed

off her pleasure like a

drug.

Where was he in al of this? She

needed to see him…

she knew his hands were on the

controls, but things were

so crazy now, had become so

fantastic, she needed to see

him, needed the reality of him.

“Master…” she cried out for him,

again and again, until

suddenly the hologram shimmered to

darkness, the tablet

gone. She let out a glad cry, tears

inexplicably springing to

her eyes as his very real hands

closed over her throat, his

lips on her open mouth. His tongue

tangled against hers

and she shattered in that red and dark

womb of pure lust

and need, sheer feeling. Though the

hologram was gone,

the thrusting, licking, pinching,

stroking never stopped, and

she screamed out the orgasm, so

harshly she felt the pain

to her vocal chords, stil raw from

last night, but she couldn’t

stop. Right now there was no

conscious thought of that, of

anything but how his hands, that flesh

and blood col ar, and

the demand of his lips, made it
all
his demand, his

desire…

It took her past orgasm and into an

even more intense

realm, like a trip to the fairy world

where time passed so

differently. She wasn’t sure if she

ever finished. Her body

simply reached the limit of its

endurance. She continued to

weakly jerk and whimper, emitting

sudden long and

plaintive cries as she was hit by

short, intense aftershocks.

It was as if the cocks were stil

fucking her, the mouths

suckling her nipples, the hands

elsewhere on her skin, but

now they al moved in unhurried, deep

rhythms, the suckling

and caresses a soft squeezing instead

of harder pinches.

Those hands on her back, arms, legs,

were kneading, like

when Jon gave her the massage. She

was limp again,

waiting for the next onslaught with no

ability to resist it. If he

was going to cut her into pieces now,

she had no objection.

At long, long last, everything came to

a slow, teasing halt.

She lay against the chair, her head

back as Jon’s mouth

cruised over her brow, her lips, her

nose. She was released

from the chair, but she had no ability

to do anything. He

stripped the suit off her, leaving her

naked, and lifted her in

his arms. Guided by dim wal lights,

he carried her back up

the stairs. Her eyes were half shut,

her body hanging in his

grip, but she realized he’d ascended

the stairs to the loft

when she was laid in his bed.

Looking up, she saw the

natural twists of the canopy, the

crossed arms of a tree.

Those two tal plates of dark blue

glass shimmered with the

fal of water, a soothing whisper of

sound.

Her arms fel out to either side when

he laid her down,

because she didn’t have any strength,

but she tried to part

her legs, knowing she needed to be in

that position. He’d

told her so, right? Always

accessible.

“Good girl,” he said. His expression

and voice were as

raw and rough as any of those fantasy

holographic images.

Then he was lying down upon her,

and he was as bare as

she was. She made a yearning noise

as his cock,

enormous, hard steel, pushed into her

soaked pussy. The

inner tissues were so stimulated she

kept making the cry.

His size was because of watching her

reaction. Because of

her.

“Just lie there,” he said. “Take your

Master.”

She wanted nothing else, nothing but

to feel him inside of

her, the way his cock’s head pushed

through those tight

wal s, then dragged back, then

forward again. She couldn’t

possibly orgasm again so soon, but

sensations almost as

deep and intense as those aftershocks

rippled through her.

Having him inside her, taking her like

this…there was

something as fulfil ing and satisfying

about it as even the

strongest orgasm she’d ever

experienced. This was the

one thing the marvelous device he’d

created couldn’t

provide, the most important thing.

Intimacy.

“Jon…Master. Please…my arms…”

He understood. He slid his arms

around her waist, up

under her shoulders, giving her the

support she needed to

lift her heavy, quivering arms and

wrap them around his

neck. She gazed up at him as he held

her eyes in his, that

midnight blue, the pupils dilated in

determined lust.

“Cal me that again.”

“Master.” She had no hesitation

about it right now, not

with everything open to him. And he

hadn’t torn her open,

as she’d feared would happen. He’d

simply opened her like

sunlight opened a flower, an

inexorable compulsion toward

life and growth, something no living

thing could truly resist.

The way he reacted to her cal ing him

that—the flex of his

jaw, the concentration in his eyes, the

way his thrusts

became more demanding, asking

more of her body than

she thought possible but wasn’t—

made it al so worth it.

When he came, seed jetting deep

inside of her, she

realized he hadn’t worn a condom.

But there was no need.

Whatever came from this union, she

would want with every

ounce of her being.

Only a fool protected herself from

something sacred.

Chapter Fourteen

Euphoria lingered, a sense that she

was caught in a

dream and happily content to stay

there without questioning

anything. Once they’d both recovered

enough, he’d bundled

her in a thick robe, sat her at the bar

in his kitchen and

cooked her a light early supper—

crepes with strawberries

and whipped cream. He fed it to her

as wel , sitting so her

knees pressed against the inside of

his thighs as he faced

her on a matching stool.

He’d only pul ed on a pair of jeans,

leaving the top

unbuttoned, and he indulged her

desire to touch. She’d

dipped her fingers in the whipped

cream, painted them

along one pectoral, then leaned in to

kiss, lick. Every move

lazy, erotic but not driven to sex, not

right now. Now was al

about feeling every smal moment of

pleasure, and when he

caught her wrist at last, lifted her

hand to suck the

stickiness off her fingers, she gazed

at him, quietly amazed

to see her hand being held in the

grasp of his with such

casual possession.

When he took her on a more thorough

tour of his

workshop, he explained some of his

work-related projects.

She noted he kept her drawn close to

his side, making sure

she didn’t trip over anything in the

clutter. After that, he

helped her back into her dress and

comfortable sneakers

to take her on a short walk of the

property, strol ing through

the woods as he pointed out different

features. He was a

patron of local artisans, she saw,

having instal ed a variety

of natural sculptures off the paths,

interesting shapes and

forms that blended into the

landscape. When they got to the

al igator’s pond, she saw he had a

screened gazebo there

with a hammock inside. They took a

nap, her lying in his

arms, both of them rocking with the

wind that passed

through the gray and green forest, the

cal s of nature al

around them.

As they’d walked through the woods,

her arm had been

around his waist, thumb hooked in the

belt loop of his jeans,

his arm draped over her shoulder.

They walked wel

together, the slide and bump of their

bodies as natural a

rhythm as they’d found during their

coupling. She didn’t

know what she’d been expecting as

an aftermath, but like

his device that took into account al

the many erogenous

points of a woman’s body, a way to

nurture the ful range of

her emotional needs as wel . Jon had

chosen to spend the

rest of the afternoon letting her see

his world, ask questions

and simply be with him, feel how

easy that was. How right.

The uneasiness didn’t start to return

until night drew in

and she knew they would soon be

going to the club. He laid

out the clothes he’d bought for her,

enjoyed watching her

don them, so much that her body, in a

pleasurable languor

most of the afternoon, began to stir

again. He was already

dressed when he told her to finish her

makeup and left her

for a few minutes, saying he needed

to check on something

in his workshop.

Nervous enough already, she didn’t

dare speculate on

what he needed from there, but she

finished her makeup

and hair, straightened up the

bathroom, folded his jeans

and T-shirt and left them on the

dresser before coming

downstairs to the main room. She’d

only wandered among

the Japanese maples for a few

minutes, enjoying the

artwork on the wal s, when he

returned. While she didn’t

see him carrying anything, she noted

he hadn’t yet tied his

tie, the strips of silk lying on his

starched shirt front. For al

that he looked handsome in anything

he wore, she found

his suit was like a knight’s armor in

truth, reinforcing and

underscoring his authority, that sexy

confidence.

It made her smile, thinking of his

earlier exasperation

with the Knights of the Board Room

moniker. When she

came to him, her pulse elevated again

as she noted the

approving way he took in her

appearance, the way her

body moved in what he’d bought her.

She’d loved the dress she was