Training Tessa (Hot Texas Bosses BDSM Erotica) (12 page)

So, now, I’d been in the tub for over an hour, unsure of what I should do or say when I saw him.

There’s a reason people tell you not to get involved with your boss. It’s awkward as hell.

And it could break your heart.

The door opened. Dix came in with a towel wrapped around his waist and damp hair, wearing an expression that nearly matched the one his brother usually had.

He was still angry. Should I tell him the truth? Lay my heart open to eventually get ripped to shreds and let the pieces fall where they may?

I was sure I couldn’t survive another break up like the last one.

“Stay in the tub,” Dix said as he pulled the drain plug. “Get on your knees facing me.”

All thoughts of romance evaporated as I was hit by a surge of overwhelming lust.

I obeyed, although the porcelain was murder on my knees. I grasped the side so I wouldn’t slip.

He moved right up to the tub, inches away from me. The smell of his freshly washed flesh mingled with the pomegranate scent of the conditioner I’d used.

If I leaned forward a bit, I could run my tongue over his beautiful abs, but I wasn’t sure I was allowed that liberty.

A flip of his wrist and his towel dropped. His rock hard cock appeared poised and ready for attack.

He reached out and grabbed the back of my wet hair with one hand.

When I opened my mouth to say “Ow!” he shoved his cock in it.

“Suck me off, slave.”

A hot tingle raced through my body and landed in my crotch.

I took his cock in my mouth and sucked on the tip, then ran my tongue around the groove between tip and shaft.

“Open your mouth wider,” he said in a low, stern voice. “I like to feel the back of your throat.”

My body quivered at the thought of being completely controlled by him and his cock. I let my jaw drop.

Holding my head firmly in place, he thrust his hips forward, rocketing over my tongue and into my throat.

I wanted to touch myself. I wanted him to do to my pussy what he was doing to my mouth.

The air conditioning kicked on. I was vaguely aware of the chill on my wet skin. But nothing mattered except Dix’s fingers tangled in my hair and his hard member assaulting my tonsils.

He thrust into me several times.

I heard him groan and had the urge to see his face, wanting to experience his ecstasy with him.

I lifted my eyes. His muscled torso arched towards me. His head was thrown back, his breathing ragged.

He must have realized I was watching because he suddenly looked down into my face.

He stilled. And he stared into my upturned face for several seconds, the tip of his cock resting in my mouth.

He pulled out. “I don’t want to look into your big doe eyes,” he said. “They might take me somewhere you made it clear we weren’t going.”

His angry voice was tinged with hurt, an emotion I knew well. I had to tell him how I really felt.

“Dix, I—”

“No talking. Get out of the tub.”

Maybe this wasn’t the time to have that conversation with him. He needed to vent some anger.

Besides, as bizarre as it was, every time he issued a command, a surge of liquid energy shot through me and landed in my pussy.

I stood and got out. Shivering, I glanced over at the wall of towels.

“I’m cold. Can I dry off?”

“A boyfriend might be concerned about that, but the comfort of a slave isn’t really the master’s concern.” He was definitely pissed.

He grabbed the small wooden step-stool and placed it next to the tub.

I opened my mouth, trying to decide whether to insist on a towel or tell him I wanted more than a paycheck and kinky sex from him.

“Knees on the stool, bend over the side of the tub, palms in the tub.”

“What?”

“Now, slave.”

My internal organs heated at the word “slave,” even though the cold still enveloped the exterior of my body.

I knelt on the stool and hesitated. Dix’s hot hand seared into my back, insisting on my compliance.

I didn’t resist. As my palms reached the bottom of the tub, my stomach made contact with the icy edge. I jerked up involuntarily at the shock of it.

He pressed on my back and I was forced down again onto the frigid surface.

The sensations were confusing. Cold spread through my torso as heat from his hand radiated over my back.

He knelt on the plush bathmat behind me. I could feel the tip of his cock at my entrance.

Even in this precarious position, I still wanted him inside me.

He leaned onto me, his chest pressing against my back.

“You’ve creamed your pussy. It turns you on when I make you suck me, doesn’t it slave?”

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to talk,” I said rebelliously.

His teeth sank into my shoulder as his hand twisted my nipple.

Delicious, crippling pain jarred through my body. My arms jerked and I nearly fell face first into the tub, but he grabbed me by the hips and steadied me.

“Slaves reply to their masters when spoken to.” He toyed threateningly with my other nipple.

After several seconds of silence, he pinched it hard between his thumb and forefinger.

I cried out in painful delight.

“Yes,” I said. When he didn’t stop I added, “I like it when you make me do things…anything.”

He released my nipple. His hands cupped my breasts gently while his member prodded lightly, teasing my poor needy pussy.

As much as I wanted to be controlled by him and play his kinky games, a part of me wished I could relax into him in a cozy bed.

In this odd position—ass up, face down—my body didn’t seem to know whether to let the blood rush to my head or send it all to my tingling crotch.

His hands gripped my hips tightly. With a slow pelvic tilt, he slid his cock over my clit from behind.

“Uhhhhh…” A delicious ache started at my crotch and spread through to my toes.

He pulled back and pressed firmly against my pussy entrance.

“Tell me what you need, slave. Maybe I’ll grant your request.”

“I need you inside me.”

He pressed his fingertips into my hips, but his cock didn’t move.

“I need you to fuck me.”

I could feel him tense behind me, like an animal ready to pounce on its prey. The pressure of his fingers intensified into pain.

“I need you to pound me.”

He took in a ragged breath and plunged into me. The shock of his thick cock inside me caused every muscle in my body to tighten, then go limp.

My arms were useless. My head would have smacked the porcelain tub bottom if he wasn’t holding me tightly by the hips.

He rammed into me again, and I knew I could explode at any moment. Dix heated me in a way no man had ever done before.

Two years with my ex and I’d never had anything like this.

I pressed my ass up and back on the next thrust. We both moaned at the surprising swells of enjoyment the slight change of position provided.

“How does your pussy feel?” He was still thrusting into me.

“Full and hot,” I replied. “Like it’s ready to come.”

“And how do you feel, Tessa?” he asked, more softly this time.

Hearing my name on his lips, instead of “slave,” made something burst inside my chest.

“Like I want you inside me forever.” I couldn’t believe I’d blurted that out.

He went still. The room was suddenly so silent I heard a single drop fall from the bathtub faucet.

His hand caressed my hair, continuing down to the small of my back.

I shivered at the soft touch and wondered what it would be like to truly make love with him.

I knew the exact moment he remembered himself…or at least remembered what I’d said before.

His hand left my back suddenly, as if it had been burned. He grabbed my hips again and ramrodded into me, pounding my tender pussy until my pleasure shocks turned into convulsions. I screamed.

He groaned, then stilled.

The tremor that passed through his body continued through mine.

We spasmed together until I collapsed with my cheek against the inside wall of the tub.

Seconds later, his body left mine and I was cold again.

I turned my head to look at him.

“You sleep in there,” he said, pointing to one of the two doors leading from the bathroom. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

As I lifted myself from the tub, he tossed a towel toward me and left through the other door.

*****

I couldn’t sleep, my mind so full of conflicting thoughts they were tripping over each other.

Since yesterday, Dix and I had shared several moments when I was sure there was more between us than lust. Not that the lust wasn’t fabulous.

He'd tried to take me out on a real date to a beautiful restaurant and I’d ruined it. Why?

Did I have low self-esteem or were my fears warranted? I tried to imagine Dix and me in a serious relationship.

How would that work? Would he need to buy me a new wardrobe so he wasn’t embarrassed when we went out in public?

I didn’t like the idea of being Eliza Doolittle to his Henry Higgins…or Orphan Annie to his Daddy Warbucks.

And it was one thing giving power over to him in the bedroom, but I didn’t want to live my whole life like that.

Didn’t the person with the most money automatically have the most power in a relationship?

Not always, maybe. But I didn’t know how to play the games that gold diggers and debutantes played to keep a man under my thumb.

I didn’t want to have to. I wanted an equal relationship between two adults.

I tried to imagine the kinds of places I’d be expected to go with Dix. Charity galas? The opera? He didn’t seem like the opera type.

What did he even do for fun?

I rolled over onto my side, trying to switch the channel on my thoughts.

Dix had seemed so happy when we were going out on a real date together. He didn’t appear embarrassed about my discount wardrobe at all.

And, a couple of hours ago, he’d said my name sweetly and caressed my hair so gently. As much as he seared my body with decadent gratification, he warmed my heart with his caring glances.

I remembered how jealous he was whenever he thought his brother might have touched me…might have had feelings for me. It made me smile.