He cleaned her, then took the shower head off its mount and rinsed her as thoroughly, passing his fingers more intimately over her than her husband had during all their years together. Throughout it all she stayed still, though she quaked and shivered, and made those cries. She thought she sounded like a lost lamb, those tiny bleats of emotions, and she pressed her forehead to the wall, familiar despair sweeping back in with the thought. She wanted the next step, wanted to be clean and see what would happen, but she was afraid of it too.
Maybe he’d cosset her, tuck her back into bed, and that would be the end of it for now. She’d be left feeling as loose and wild as she had when he left her studio that day. She couldn’t bear that. He was a man, he was naked and aroused. Surely, if nothing else, he would simply f*ck her while she was still slippery with soap. Then it wouldn’t matter what she could or couldn’t do. She could hold onto the feeling of having him deep in her body. Of being joined, however briefly, to another soul. She could feed herself on that for a long, long time.
How many times had she explained to Cole that, even without the orgasm or natural lubrication, she needed that connection, the feeling of being desired, needed, filled? Jon had already made her feel that in spades, without even touching her, really. She could pay him back by giving him what he wanted, and what she needed.
She wouldn’t leave it to chance. If she persuaded him to do it now, up against the shower wall, he might not notice whatever deficiencies she had in the response department. That spiked ball in her lower belly stabbed her with desperation, told her she had to clutch it now, before the chance slid away like a slippery fish.
Spinning around, she intended to move into him, be blatant about what she was offering. But when she lunged at him, he caught her by the waist. In one astonishingly deft move, he’d flipped her around so her back was against his front. He held her immobilized as he braced his body against the shower wall.
“Rachel, sshh. Easy. No.” When she struggled, he made it clear how easily he overpowered her. “Settle now. Stop.”
She bit her bottom lip, squeezing her eyes shut. One hand had landed on his thigh, her nails digging in, the other clawing his forearm. “Let me go. I want you to do this. I need you to go ahead and do this now.”
“No you don’t. That’s the very last thing you need. All right, that’s enough.”
When she hesitated at the sharpened tone, startled, he shifted, taking her arm from his thigh. She gasped as he pushed open the shower door, pulled her out and in the same smooth movement, bent and hefted her over his shoulder in a fireman’s half-carry. His hand landed on her bottom, holding her there, her wrist firmly in his other grip. “You aren’t ready to let me do anything for you, Rachel. You’re still too wrapped up in your head.”
“No…” She gasped it. If he left her now, just left her here, she couldn’t bear it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“Be quiet. You need a Master with a strong hand, Rachel. One who’s not going to let you do anything. You’ll do as I command and that’s the end of it.”
Chapter Five
She was still whirling over the meaning of that when he took her through her bedroom in a few determined strides. How a man could be bare-assed naked and appear so in control, like a warrior striding across his camp, she didn’t know, but he accomplished it. She’d been vaguely aware he’d been carrying a briefcase when he shouldered into her apartment. Now he took her to her foyer and barely paused in stride as he picked it up. As he pivoted, she noticed he was careful to protect her head and shoulders from the tall lamp next to her end table in the sitting room before he headed back to her bedroom.
“This can’t work,” she said, even more panicked. “Please, Jon…”
He slid her off his shoulder, pushing her to a sitting position on the bed. Bracing a long arm on either side of her, he clamped his hands over her wrists, keeping her palms flat on the mattress. Then he put his mouth on hers, in such a strong and penetrating kiss that her head was pushed backward and the muscles of her arms flexed against his hold, trying to stay upright. What little rational thought she had scattered beneath that demand, her whole body shifting focus to the heat of his 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, telling 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 well 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.
“All right then. Fair enough. You’ve told me, now we’ll do things my way.”
“But I can still… I have lubricant, and anything you want…”
He didn’t move. “So if I use you like a whore, all for my own benefit, that’s all right?”
“I didn’t mean it that way.” Stung, she tried to pull 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 small 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 all 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, following him, wondering what he was doing.
At the beginning of her classes, she used pranayama, the yoga breathing exercises, to still 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 equally 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 metallic ring of contact with the bedrail as he secured the tether there.