Afterlife (31 page)

slowing his pace but

keeping it going, letting her savor

long drags of her mouth

along his length, feeling him twitch at

the increased

sensitivity. His hand on her hair

convulsed in tandem with

the reaction of his cock. She sucked

the ridge along his

head, traced the slit where his semen

had shot into her

throat. He was stil semi-erect, and

she thought she could

do this al night, keep servicing him

with her mouth.

Her Master had other plans.

Chapter Eleven

Drawing her away from him at last,

he set her on her

heels as he tucked himself back in,

refastened the slacks.

He pul ed the belt free, set it aside

and then he leaned

forward. Lifting her by the elbows,

he drew her up into his

lap, letting her curl there like a child.

She closed her eyes as he cradled

her, adjusted her

body so her legs draped over one

chair arm. When he slid

his relaxed hand between them, his

knuckles pressing

against her inner thigh, it reminded

her of his right to touch

her wherever he wished. But with

that demand was this

cosseting tenderness that

overwhelmed her after such

blinding passion. “Oh Jon. I can’t…I

don’t know what to

say.”

“Last time I checked, you don’t have

permission to say

anything. Not unless you ask first.”

But there was humor in

the quiet reminder. She relaxed

further in his arms, noted

she was stil quivering. It was then

she also noticed the ring

on his middle finger, and

remembered that vibrating

sensation. It appeared to be a simple

band, but on the palm

side, there was a tiny, thick disk. It

had to be the source of

the vibration that had taken her fading

climax up to a whole

new level. She was beginning to

realize Jon wasn’t content

with a woman’s “normal” orgasm or

even the typical

intensity of the aftershocks. He

wanted to stretch the limits

of her endurance, every time. It was a

daunting—and

terribly thril ing—prospect.

He pressed his mouth to her

forehead, dipped to kiss her

lips, tease his taste from them, from

her tongue. “Talk about

torture. I’l never leave you like that

again. Thinking about

you, knowing how hot and needy you

were feeling…it’s a

wonder I got anything done today.

Did you come by

yourself?”

The question was weighted, his

hands stil ing upon her.

She swal owed. “Almost. Once. I

was sleeping, though, and

couldn’t help it. I woke up and sort of

stopped it.”

“Sort of.” He squeezed her hip in

mild reproof. “Wel , we’l

add that to the tal y, won’t we?”

Tal y? She wasn’t sure she wanted to

know what that

meant, but there was something she

real y did want to

know. “May I…ask something?”

“You may. Sweet girl.”

The sensual caress of that voice

spread heat through

her, as if being held and surrounded

by that strong male

body weren’t already making her feel

safer than she’d felt

in…maybe ever.

“Why…” She paused, struggling with

things she’d

stopped talking about years ago, such

that it was hard to

speak of them even now. But he was

waiting. “For so long, I

couldn’t climax. But you…you acted

like that didn’t worry

you at al . How did you know? How

do
you know?”

He stroked silk flesh high on her

thigh, his gaze dropping

there with that intent focus that could

get her aroused again

in no time. She held her breath as he

went higher, made a

circle, stroked her outer labia. “Your

breath gets short, the

closer I get to your pussy, waiting for

that one…bare…

touch.” She made a noise as he

brushed his finger over her

clit, then returned to making circles

on her thigh. “I’ve met

very few women who can’t climax,

Rachel.” He met her

gaze. “Whereas I’ve met plenty

who’ve never had lovers

who took the time or had the

confidence to seek the key

that would unleash that part of them.

I’ve met even more

who, through that history and their

own lack of confidence

and other emotional issues, built the

wal s that reinforce the

problem.”

He saw things she real y didn’t want

anyone to see, but

with him she didn’t seem to have a

choice. She laid her

head back against his shoulder,

considering this

remarkable and amazing male

creature who’d come into

her life like an irresistible storm. It

wouldn’t last. Couldn’t

last. Her heart cracked a little, and

her hands closed in her

lap, fighting the desire to trace his

brow, slide her finger

over his lips, see if he’d nip or lick

at them, like Max.

“Wil you tel me about yourself?

Things I don’t already

know.”

He tipped her chin up, holding it so

he could keep her

captured in his regard. “There are

twenty-five thousand, six

hundred and twelve things you don’t

know about me. I’l tel

you one each day.”

She managed a smile, but thought the

gesture was

attached to her heart, the way it pul

ed painful strings there.

“Jon.” Her voice was a whisper.

“That means it wil take you seventy-

plus years to know

everything about me. When I turn one

hundred, that wil be

the last one. Though I expect by then

you’l know the very

first and very last thing you need to

know about me, the only

one that matters.”

“Don’t do this.” She tried to fold her

arms against herself,

hugging them up under her ribs,

drawing in. “Jon, I can’t…”

“Can’t what?” Closing his hand on

one of her arms, he

pul ed it away from her body. His

touch slid down to her

wrist and then he put her hand

between her legs, his fingers

pressing over hers on her pussy, so

she felt the wetness his

mouth and the climax had left there. It

effectively pul ed her

attention back to him, made her feel

out of control. He had

the control.

“You just want one night, Rachel? Is

that it?”

“No…” How could she deny wanting

more of this? It

wasn’t about what she wanted, but

what she could handle.

“But I don’t expect…promises or

commitments. We can’t…

you can’t… When you’re done with

it, I’m not going to

expect anything, but in order for that

to happen I can’t…

there’s no need to act like we have a

future together.”

She stumbled to a halt as his

expression cooled.
Don’t

ruin this, Rachel. For God’s sake,

shut up.

“Hmm.” He cocked his head. “I

understand. Spread your

legs for me.”

Uncertain, she shifted, and then

sucked in a breath as he

moved her hand to the side and slid

his fingers back into

her, pushing in deep.

“Now cup your breasts and offer

them to me.”

She had to brace her elbows on the

chair arm, but she

managed it, sliding her hands under

her bosom and then

tilting back against his hold so the

pink-tipped breasts tilted

up toward his unfathomable gaze.

“Stay like that.”

Keeping his hand inside her, he

reached over his plate,

to the casserole dish with the

eggplant. Removing the lid,

he dipped his finger into the sauce.

Steam was coming

from it, but he was able to col ect

enough to bring it to his

mouth, taste. Approval laced his

expression, but she was

stil uneasy about that hardness around

his mouth, the

stil ness of his gaze on her. Picking

up the ladle, he

scooped up more of the sauce and

brought it over her

breasts.

“This is going to burn some, but it

won’t be unbearable.

Don’t move.”

She had a second to brace herself,

then the hot marinara

hit the upper curve, making her jump

as it slid down and

over her nipple. His mouth

descended upon it, licking the

sauce away, tasting her beneath it,

scoring her with sharp

teeth that made her gasp. Then he did

it again to the other

nipple. As he did, his fingers played

inside her, sliding,

scissoring, stroking. Her neck

strained, and she wanted to

drop her head back and thrash at the

feeling, but she

stayed utterly stil at his command, the

emotions of the past

few moments swirling around them.

While it made her

nervous, it couldn’t repel what he

was building around her

again, wal ing her up in sensation,

taking rational thought

away.

When she was shuddering in that

self-imposed stasis, he

removed his fingers, put the top back

on the casserole

dish, took another swal ow of wine.

Pushing back from the

table, he lifted her in his arms and

moved away from the

dining nook. He took her down the

hal , to her bedroom.

“Jon, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Sshh.”

The almost absent command

reassured her, because

there was a thoughtful note to it. As if

he wasn’t mad now

but…thinking. Then he put her down

on her stomach on her

bed, but he guided her feet to the

floor. “Brace yourself up

on your arms and raise your ass. I

believe you need another

spanking, because the one I gave you

at the office hasn’t

sunk in. And I think it’s best to get

that out of the way before

you rack up more than you can handle

at one go.”

She was powerless to resist his

commands, even as

things were gathering inside her she

didn’t know how to

handle. How to release. She’d

angered him, she was sure,

but she didn’t know how to fix it, and

she was taking a one-

way slide toward misery, her mind

starting to pul her away

from this moment, this wonderful

adventure she’d had to

screw up by opening her mouth…

Laying his hand on the back of her

neck, he pushed her

face down to the mattress, but left her

ass canted high in

the air. “I’m not going to stop until

I’m done, and I’m not

going to tel you the number of

strokes. I want you to give

yourself to the pain, and wherever

else your body or soul

takes you.”

“Maybe we should—” She got out

the three desperate

words, but that was al she managed.

He had a strong hand. The palm

smacked her bottom

with force, sending a sting throughout

al the nerve endings

and ricocheting right into her pussy,

her nipples, reminding

her of al the hours they’d been

stimulated by that chain

upon her, those metal pieces. Another

slap, and her ass

wobbled in reverberation, her knees

having to lock to hold

her in place.

“On your toes,” he ordered, his voice

stern. “I want that

ass reaching for my punishment.”

Her emotions fought a pitched battle

among themselves,

but she obeyed, straining up another

inch, even in the

tipped heels. The next strike startled

her, because it wasn’t

his hand. It was the back of a brush,

the carved oak

hairbrush he’d taken from the

dresser. The wood stung

fiercely against her already tender

buttock. As she

internalized that shock, he did it to

the other cheek, and

then he set about alternating, side to

side, hand to brush,

never letting it get into a rhythm.

Stinging heat became

painful fire, but she kept lifting up to

him, until she realized

she had tears on her cheeks and sobs

were catching in her

throat. That emotional knot she’d

resurrected loosened,

unraveled. She was begging him

now, but she wasn’t sure

for what. It was just his name… No,

it wasn’t…

“Master…please…”

She was too far gone for the shock of

it to stop the

words, but as she cried out in real

pain at the last strike, he

dropped the brush to the side. She let

out a smal shriek as

his hands closed hard over the

abused buttocks, and then

she choked on her latest sob as his

tongue thrust into her

pussy, his mouth sealing over that and

the perineum, then