Afterlife (14 page)

mouth, the tangle of his

tongue with hers, the moisture

between their mouths. When

he lifted his head, she felt dazed,

staring into his eyes.

“Why won’t it work, Rachel?”

“I…I told you. I don’t…I can’t…”

“You can’t have an orgasm. And it’s

hard for you to get

wet.”

She nodded, tel ing herself she

wouldn’t humiliate herself

with more tears. And she couldn’t

lie, couldn’t pretend it

was early menopause. Despite being

naked and dripping

from the shower, as wel as

completely out of her element,

she had to strive for maturity here, to

face reality. Maybe he

could
get her wet between her legs,

but there was that hard

knot low in her stomach that would

remain there, a knot that

had been weathered by so much

disappointment and so

many salty tears there was nothing

that could untie it

anymore. And that knot stood in the

way of any type of

release.

“Al right then. Fair enough. You’ve

told me, now we’l do

things my way.”

“But I can stil … I have lubricant,

and anything you want…”

He didn’t move. “So if I use you like

a whore, al for my

own benefit, that’s al right?”

“I didn’t mean it that way.” Stung,

she tried to pul her

hands back, but of course his grip

was immovable.

“I think it’s time for you to stop

talking.” A gentle note re-

entered his voice, unexpected, as was

the hand that

cupped the back of her head, fingers

diving into her hair as

he changed the angle of his mouth.

Now he laid his lips

over one eye, which closed at his

approach. She felt his

tender caress there, a smal touch of

his tongue at the

corner, absorbing her tear. Then he

did it to the other side.

“Keep your eyes closed and I want

you to go back to your

breathing, only more in-depth this

time. Through the nose

for three seconds, hold three seconds,

out through the

mouth for three seconds. Focus only

on that, and I

command everything else. Do it,

Rachel.”

Even though the idea of anything

calming her down at

this point seemed incredible, she

knew it couldn’t do her

any harm. And maybe it would block

the flood of al those

other distressing thoughts his far-too-

sharp observation

had brought surging forth. She drew

in the first breath,

leaving her eyes closed.

When he drew his touch away, she

heard the briefcase

opening. “Keep them closed and keep

breathing. Three,

two, one…” He counted it off slow,

as she did during class.

He kept counting, so she focused, fol

owing him, wondering

what he was doing.

At the beginning of her classes, she

used
pranayama
,

the yoga breathing exercises, to stil

other external forces.

To help her students leave behind

their worries, focus only

on their practice and make the most

of it. She knew he was

likely using it for the same reason

here, helping her set her

fears aside to experience this. But as

she kept breathing,

she found he had other equal y

powerful ways of turning her

attention only to what was happening

in the here and now.

Putting a knee on the bed, he slid his

arms under her

knees, her back. He turned her, so her

head was partly off

the foot end of the mattress, and

guided her hands out to

either side of her. A padded cuff was

wrapped around one

wrist, and then tension was put on

that arm as he looped

some type of tether through the ring of

the cuff. She heard

the faint metal ic ring of contact with

the bedrail as he

secured the tether there.

Her lashes fluttered, but before she

could look, he slid an

eye mask on her face, a ribbon tie

securing it, his fingers

lingering at her hair line. She

shuddered. “Jon…”

“Keep breathing. Three, two, one…”

He restrained the other arm the same

way, then he was

moving down the bed. When he

cinched her ankles down,

he spread them wide. He knew

within an inch the limits of

her flexibility, so she was incredibly

vulnerable, her muscles

straining. That knot in her stomach

moved lower, burning.

“Since you can’t climax, I guess we

don’t have to worry

about this pretty comforter.” She

imagined him looking at

the Monet print pattern as he

continued in that mild tone.

“Though if you did climax on it,

gushed hard, it would

darken the pale pinks of Monet’s

flowers. The same color

your cunt looks now. You’re

glistening, Rachel.” When he

dipped his finger into her, she

mewled, twitching her ass

against the cover as he explored.

Then he was back near

her head, though he didn’t touch her.

He was shifting, doing

something, because she could feel his

movements on the

mattress. Then he answered her

curiosity.

“I’m looking at you, naked and

bound, and rubbing your

oil on my cock.”

She imagined those elegant fingers,

soaked with her

arousal, sliding along the broad head.

Her stomach

muscles contracted.

“Do you want to taste it, Rachel?”

“Yes.” She rasped it.

“You’re going to have to ask for it

the right way, aren’t

you?”

She’d told him she couldn’t. But he’d

known the blindfold

might make that barrier a little less

daunting. In that opaque

world, she could answer the

dangerous desire she’d

nursed. For once in her life, she

could not only speak the

words but mean them. Al those years,

she’d longed for the

one who would coax it from her, and

here he was. But he

wasn’t coaxing at al . He was

demanding and she couldn’t

deny him, because it was merely an

echo of the truth.

Her voice shook so hard, she could

barely get it out. “Y-

yes, M-master. Yes, Master. I want to

taste. Please.”

Having her head tilted over the end

of the bed increased

the sense of exposure and

vulnerability. It also put her in a

perfect position to service him with

her mouth. Since she

was tied down, he had ful control of

how powerful y he

thrust, how deep.

When he put his cock against her

parted lips, a growl of

pure hunger came from her throat. He

gave her just the

head, pressing it against the flat of

her tongue to let her curl

around him, taste and swirl along that

firm, heated skin.

She tasted him as wel as herself, and

knew the tip of his

organ had already been wet, his

arousal joining her slippery

honey.

Though she hadn’t done this in quite a

while, she’d once

been good at it. Since most men

enjoyed oral sex, this was

a part of her subservience Cole had

embraced, at least at

first. She didn’t want to mix the

memories though. She

banished those images and instead

imagined what Jon

looked like standing over her. The

columns of his thighs

pressing against the crown of her

head, the heavy testicles

brushing her forehead. His intimate,

musky smel made her

nostrils flare, trying to take in even

more of the erotic scent.

Her mouth wanted more as wel .

For a blissful moment, he obliged,

sinking even deeper.

She relaxed her throat to

accommodate him. As she’d

seen in the shower, he was an

impressive size and girth,

and she sucked on him, wanting

more, more and more.

When he let out a quiet oath, she

moaned against him, and

his hands closed over her breasts.

Arching up to him when

his thumbs flicked over the nipples,

she made a plea

against his cock, squirming against

her restraints.

“You have gorgeous breasts, Rachel,

al heavy and ripe.

They’d look beautiful in rope

bondage and clamps. The

curves al swol en, your nipples stiff.

When I took off the

clamps and ropes, you’d cry out from

the surge of blood,

the pain. But you’d love it too, and

I’d put my mouth on your

nipples and soothe them, suckle on

them until you’d be

begging me to bite them, to give them

more pain. But there

are so many parts of you I want to

pleasure, I might need

some help.”

She was making helpless noises

against his heated

shaft. God, he was getting bigger. She

wanted him to shoot

down her throat, wanted him to pul

out and spurt over the

nipples he was taunting now. But he

had other ways he

wanted to torment her.

“Peter loves breasts. While I took

care of other things,

he’d suckle away al the pain, yet

make them even stiffer,

needier. Your cunt would get even

wetter, but Lucas would

take care of that. He’s spent a great

deal of time studying

the way to pleasure a woman with his

mouth. He’d thrust his

tongue deep into your pussy, do

things that would make you

mindless. My slave in every way,

lost in every desire you’ve

ever had.”

Whether or not he was merely

painting pictures for her

fantasies, her body was responding.

She remembered

their photos, and now she thought of

Lucas, the handsome

and athletic CFO, with his mouth

between her legs. The

brawny Peter, that
Don’t Tread on

Me
tattoo on his biceps

rippling as he cupped her breasts in

both large hands. Jon,

her Master, cal ing the shots.

What did it say about her, that she

was imagining it? She

should be appal ed. Both of those

men were married.
What

are you, some kind of slut?
Cole’s

voice, an unwelcome

intrusion. She stiffened under Jon’s

touch. Was she one of

those cautionary tales, the sex addict

who got so lost in her

pathetic needs that al of a sudden she

was servicing total

strangers at her boyfriend’s behest?

Had her experience at

Club More taught her nothing?

Though Jon knew the right

words, was more civilized about it,

was it any different?

Yes, yes it is.
Her soul wailed at her, begging her not to

fuck this up with her head games.
For

a moment, pretend it

is, because you’ve never felt

anything like this.

“You’re thinking too much again.” He

withdrew, and the

loss of that heat and strain on her

mouth was enough to

cause a noise of petulant protest. “It’s

time to take this up a

notch. I wanted to make sure you

could handle something

the size of my cock and fucking hel ,

but you can. You’ve got

a devil-blessed mouth, Rachel.”

Before she could think of what to say

to that, since a

polite thank you seemed

inappropriate, a broad head was

nudging at her lips again. Only this

time, it wasn’t Jon. It

was a thick rubber phal us, it had to

be, but it felt…real. Like

a hard cock with the velvet give of

flesh over it. In fact, she

could swear the organ was warm.

She started in surprise

as he took the thick shaft in slow but

deep, giving her that

tantalizing terror of having the wide

head pushed right

against the back of her throat. He

stopped there and

secured it with straps around her skul

, cinching it in until

they bit against the corners of her

mouth.

“When I final y take that off, you’l

have strap marks there

for about an hour. Whenever you look

in the mirror, you’l be

reminded of your submission to me.”

The gag
was
warm, pulsing like a

man’s organ, and it

had some kind of scent that reminded

her of Jon’s cock, his

pre-cum. It wasn’t anything like the

lifeless, rigid sex toys

she’d tried. Having it strapped in her

mouth like this made

her feel even more helpless…and

wetter.

He slid his hip on the bed, and from

the prop of his thigh

against hers, he was facing toward

her spread legs. She

wished she could see him there, his

tempting ass pressed

into her covers, the curve of his back

and flex of muscle as