Zurlo, Michele - Two Masters for Samantha [Awakenings 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (39 page)

The steady patter of water sounded through the open bathroom door.

“Samantha, come and get cleaned up.”

She stared at the opening, knowing exactly what he meant. Yes, she wanted to jump under the spray of warm water and wash the scent of sex from her body. However, she knew he intended to be the one to do the washing.

Snatching the collar and outfit from the floor, she did her best to fold them neatly. They ended up in a stack next to the bedding on the credenza. At the last minute, she shucked the shirt and threw it at the foot of his bed.

When she appeared in the doorway to the bathroom, she found him waiting. Towels, brushes, and soaps lined the countertop, all set out with methodical precision. He lifted a hairbrush. “Come here, Samantha.”

A glimpse in the mirror behind him showed a woman who had been well-loved. Her skin was flushed, as much from the whip as from his firm, possessive touch. Enjoying his attentions didn’t shame her. Calling him “Master” did. Either way, her long hair was a rat’s nest from all the writhing and arching.

She did as he asked, presenting her back to him so that he could brush her hair. His motions were slow and reverent. He smoothed a hand over her hair with each stroke of the brush. He worked through the snarls with infinite patience. His stomach growled.

“I can finish this if you want to eat.”

He dropped a kiss to her shoulder. “This is hard for you, isn’t it?”

She snorted. “I’ve been brushing my own hair and taking showers since I was five.” She had been forced to share a shower with her older sister until she was eight and Amanda was nine. She was so glad when that custom fell by the wayside. The stall wasn’t big enough for both of them to maneuver.

Alexei’s shower was significantly larger. Steam poured from over the top of the translucent doors, coating them in a way that would distort the image of the body inside.

“I meant letting someone else take care of you. You’re very independent, Samantha. I like that, but you’re going to have to get used to this. A Master always takes care of his slave.”

She turned then, stepping out of his reach. Peering into the mirror, she lifted her hair and twisted it into a knot. Alexei handed her a hair tie.

When she tried to move past him to enter the shower, he grabbed her arm. “You’re awfully brusque for someone who just got thoroughly laid.”

He wasn’t acting very much like a Master. Sam didn’t know what disconcerted her the most. “I’m hungry.”

“I’m hungry. You’re angry.”

She lifted her eyes to meet his. “Maybe your low blood sugar is causing you to over-react a little bit.”

He released her arm, but the wary expression on his face didn’t fade. “Wear my shirt when you finish, and then head to the kitchen. You can help me get dinner ready.”

So he had seen her foray into his drawers. Sam watched him for signs that he was upset about her invasion of his privacy, but she saw none. She jerked her head in a vague semblance of a nod.

When she joined him in the kitchen, she wasn’t any calmer. The shower had done nothing to help ease her mind. The sight of him standing in front of the stove wearing only boxer shorts made the muscles in her pussy clench. He stirred something in a pot, grabbed an apple from the counter, and took a big bite. How could that tableau make her horny, especially after the way they spent afternoon?

She desperately wished Stefano was around. “Where’s Stef?”

Alexei glanced up from the stove to check the clock. “On his way home from work. He’ll be here soon. I’m making soup.
Rosa
usually makes extra food on Friday so we eat well on the weekend, but we gave her yesterday off.”

“
Rosa
?”

He stirred some more and took another bite of his apple. “Housekeeper, cook, general nag, maternal figure. We stole her from our dad when we moved here. She likes the warmer weather and the fact that we gave her an entire guest house.”

Oh, yes. She remembered Stefano mentioning the housekeeper. “What can I do to help?”

He pointed to a cupboard. “Why don’t you set the table? Stef likes milk with this. I prefer water. There’s pop and lemonade in the refrigerator. I’m going to ask you not to have anything with alcohol in it.”

She hadn’t planned on it, but now that he prohibited it, she developed a craving for a Mai Tai. “Why?”

“Because Stef will be home soon, and we’re not finished with you. He didn’t take you to the playroom this morning, so I’m assuming he’ll want to start there tonight.”

Relief washed through her at the assurance that Stefano would soon be home and she wouldn’t be alone with Alexei anymore. She had opened the cupboard and was reaching for the soup bowls when Alexei’s arms came down on either side of her. She started and raised her hand to her heart, as if that motion could calm the racing.

“Samantha, what’s wrong?”

She shook her head and resisted the urge to lean her body into his. She knew his arms would come around her and he would smooth back her hair and kiss her temple. Refuge was inches away, but the cost was too high.

“Nothing.”

He exhaled hard, a stream of air hissing against her bare neck. She had left her hair up after the short shower. “Honesty and clear, open communication is important between us if this is going to go anywhere. A slave can tell her Master anything, Samantha.”

She stiffened at his casual use of those terms.

He turned her around. His cage was much more intimate face-to-face. “You called me ‘Master,’ Samantha. It’s an honor I earned, just as you earned the title of ‘slave.’”

Her chin shot up, a stubborn set to it. “Earned? I told you I didn’t like those terms.”

“Is that what’s bothering you?”

“Yes, I…” She trailed off, not sure how much she wanted to explain.

“You’re angry at yourself for using a term you didn’t mean.”

If she hadn’t meant it, she wouldn’t be so angry. “No, not exactly.” She pushed at his arm, wanting out of her cage. He lifted it, releasing her without hesitation. Sam crossed the kitchen. It wasn’t large, considering the size of the rest of the house, yet it could easily swallow half of her apartment.

She leaned against a counter and crossed her hands over her chest. He followed suit, leaning in the place she just vacated. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes asked a million questions. Samantha responded to his bewilderment.

“I promised myself that I wouldn’t get that deeply involved in this. I like you, Alexei. I think we’re very compatible in bed and I even had fun with you not in bed. But I know what those titles mean, and I know that kind of thing isn’t for me.”

He didn’t move and his expression didn’t change. “What do those titles mean?”

“If I call you ‘Master,’ it means you own me. You’ll tell me what to wear, where I can and can’t go, what I can and can’t do, maybe you’ll insist on choosing my friends and when I can see my family—” She stopped at the evidence of anger growing ruddy on his neck and face.

“I am not a bastard like my father.” Alexei’s statement was quiet, all the better to deliver the venom. “Those titles don’t mean that to me, Samantha. A Master cares for his slave. He puts her above everyone and everything in his life. She’s the reason he gets up in the morning. Her smile, her happiness drives his every action. I might insist on your submission and obedience in bed, and yes, I might limit your actions, but no more than one partner inevitably does to the other in a relationship.”

He took two steps closer. “But you, my slave, also limit my actions. There is nothing I would prohibit you from doing that you wouldn’t prohibit me from doing. There is nothing I would ask of you that you wouldn’t also ask of me.”

Though he was still six feet away, Samantha felt oddly crowded. “I didn’t ask anything of you, Alexei.”

“You did when you gave me a title, Samantha. I insisted you call me ‘Sir’ because that’s basic respect in a D/s relationship. You escalated it by calling me ‘Master.’ If you don’t think I’m worthy of that title, then take it back. Talk to me about it, but don’t pout. Don’t pull away from me, and don’t pretend that something momentous didn’t happen between us.”

She shook her head. “You asked me for this. You insisted on it. You whispered suggestions in my ear last night when I was vulnerable. Then today, you stripped me of all control. I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“So, you’re taking it back.” He didn’t deny his tactics. He didn’t try to justify his behavior. He didn’t hide the hurt in his voice.

Tears pricked behind her eyes. She shook her head and braced her hands on the counter pressing into her butt. She didn’t know what the hell she was doing.

Alexei closed the distance. He grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, gently urging her to look at him.

Samantha tried to control raging emotions she could neither identify nor corral.

“Samantha, I would never limit your actions beyond the reasonable. I would never tell you who you can and can’t be friends with, and I would never, ever limit your access to your family. I might suggest things for you to wear, and I might buy clothes for you, but I wouldn’t dictate your outfits outside of the bedroom or playroom. I’m Dominant, not controlling. There is a difference.”

She studied his face, his eyes, and the tension in his shoulders. He was telling the truth. Still, he did leave some doors wide open. “How would you limit my actions?”

“I would insist on daily contact. I prefer to see you, but you live too far away. A phone call, email, or text ought to do it. I would prohibit you from seeing other people. But that goes both ways, Samantha.”

His voice washed over her, an unexpected caress just when she needed his tenderness the most. Like Stefano, Alexei was asking her for a relationship. She lifted a hand to his cheek, ignoring the way her fingers trembled. “You can’t expect me to use that title when other people are around, Lex. And I don’t want you calling me your slave when we’re not alone. And you really need to have a conversation with Stef.”

Alexei smiled. “I know. We jumped the gun a little on this, but I don’t regret it. I can’t let you walk out of here tomorrow without the promise of seeing you again, of being part of your life.”

His lips devoured hers, laying claim to everything he mentioned and a whole lot that he didn’t.

The weekend passed too quickly for Samantha. By the time she arrived home Sunday night, she was dead on her feet. A month’s worth of chores and an urgent voicemail from
Elizabeth
awaited. She called to assure Alexei and Stefano that she was safely home, and then she fell into her bed and slept well past sunrise.

Those men of hers knew how to leave her sweetly exhausted and pleasantly sore. At the airport, Stefano had stuffed the nipple clamps into her luggage. He had brushed a kiss onto her cheek and told her a package would be delivered later in the week.

True to his word, Alexei called every day. He asked about her travels and they compared notes on places they had both visited. Stefano also called daily. He asked about her art and then what she was wearing. Samantha learned that it was best to be alone when Stefano called. He invariably wanted to have phone sex.

By the time Ellen called to insist she come over Wednesday evening, Samantha had caught up on her house cleaning and on her important bills. Some of them were going to be late, but she couldn’t help that. Her two weeks of vacation in August hadn’t included paid time off, and her bank account was looking anorexic. Since her sister-in-law, Sabrina, had supplied a cell phone prepaid for two years as part of her gift to Sam for being a bridesmaid, Sam didn’t worry too much about the fact that her land line was turned off. She couldn’t make the money materialize out of thin air, and the five hundred Jonas had slipped her earlier that month had gone toward rent.