“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 well 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 still, 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"ll 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 will fix a problem. I"m not a heavy-handed Master, but if I think that"s what you need, that"s what you"ll get. You ever try spouting that bullshit 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 balls 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 all 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 pulled at the fears inside of her. “Jon…”
He slid his hand fully around her throat, squeezing above the collar, 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 allowed 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 still there, still calling 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"ll give you one of those twenty-five-thousand things now.” It worried her, what he was going to say. That darkness still 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 really something about you,” she said at last.
“It is if I tell 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 well 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 belly 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 all 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 belly 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 rolled 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 follow 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, pulling 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 pillowtop, for he kept the other hand on one of her knees, telling her he wanted her to maintain the bent-legged position until he was fully 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 still 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"ll have trouble walking. I"d love to come to your Monday class and enjoy the hell out of seeing you explain to your class why you"re not as limber as you usually are. And the whole time you"d go through the practice, I"d be thinking about fucking you in the showers right afterward.”
“That will 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 volley 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, all teasing left his expression.
“From this night on, I consider it all 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 all 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"ll make sure you know what pleasure feels like, not just in your body but in your heart, mind and soul. I"ll dedicate myself to it. I"ll satisfy your every desire, every fantasy, and in return, you"ll give me all of it, every deep part of yourself, because I meant what I said earlier. I"ll take care of you. You can"t trust any of it yet, but you will. For now, I"ll 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 pulled out, then thrust back in, and she arched up to him, crying out at the power and determination behind it. All 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.