Kneeling between her knees, he guided himself to her, pausing at the ring of tight muscle. “Relax for me. Just like class, we’re moving together. We fit together.”
Her lips parted, throat working at the promise of that connection, and her muscles eased, pulling him in. As before, he kept his eyes on her face, studying every change in her expression, her parted lips. He’d made her leave the heels on, and they stabbed into the mattress pillowtop, for he kept the other hand on one of her knees, telling her he wanted her to maintain the bent-legged position until he was fully seated again. At this angle, she felt the pressure of that glide into her body even more acutely, such that she was making those noises in her throat as he sank in to the hilt.
He lowered himself onto her body then, sliding one strong arm behind her shoulders. “Put your legs around me. High on my back. I want those sexy stilettos brushing my shoulder blades.”
She complied, loving the way it felt, him so closely joined to her, his face so close, hands touching her, commanding her body. He held her still then, one palm closing on her thigh. “By the end of tonight, I’m going to have tasted every inch of you, Rachel Madison. Taken you so many times you’ll have trouble walking. I’d love to come to your Monday class and enjoy the hell out of seeing you explain to your class why you’re not as limber as you usually are. And the whole time you’d go through the practice, I’d be thinking about f*cking you in the showers right afterward.”
“That will make it hard to…reach a medita-meditative state.”
“Having trouble talking, sweet girl?” The look he sent her was pure male satisfaction, and she tried to steady her voice, give him a spirited volley in return.
“It’s only Friday. I’d heal by Monday.”
“You assume I’m going to let you out of this bed this weekend.” He adjusted himself even more deeply then, a tiny pain. When she made a noise of helpless pleasure, all teasing left his expression.
“From this night on, I consider it all mine. Every beautiful blonde lock of hair, that tender spot on your knee, the pretty line of your ankle. Your p-ssy, your breasts, your gorgeous round ass. It’s all mine. Say it.”
“Y-yours.”
He put his forehead to hers, touched her lips, barely a breath. “Say it without the fear, Rachel. Feel it deep inside. Say it.”
“Yours.” A whisper, like a breeze sliding through her, sure and quiet. Incontrovertible.
“Good. And being mine means I’ll make sure you know what pleasure feels like, not just in your body but in your heart, mind and soul. I’ll dedicate myself to it. I’ll satisfy your every desire, every fantasy, and in return, you’ll give me all of it, every deep part of yourself, because I meant what I said earlier. I’ll take care of you. You can’t trust any of it yet, but you will. For now, I’ll keep saying it so you can keep remembering it.”
She couldn’t have found words to answer such incredible things, but she didn’t have the chance. He pulled out, then thrust back in, and she arched up to him, crying out at the power and determination behind it. All the restraint he’d shown up until now, the finesse, the lingering torment, were left behind. He did in fact know what she needed, when she needed it. Now he gave her a Master’s lust, his animal possession, made her feel like she would be pushed to serve him to the last ounce of energy, with every straining muscle.
Despite the recent climax, the punishing, excruciating rhythm had her body climbing that steep roller coaster again. She clung to him with legs and arms, burying her face into his neck, the strands of his hair against her forehead.
He’d teased her about the marinara, letting her have some breathing room. But these earth-shattering words were a reminder that there was an invisible leash attached to that collar she still wore, and he would only let her back away a certain amount. It was thrilling and terrifying at once, a duality she was beginning to accept went hand in hand with her first-in-a-lifetime feelings for Jon.
How many times had she told herself that, after tonight, after this point or that point, she’d back away, push him to arms’ length? She’d been fooling herself. One didn’t push a Master at all. Not unless one was willing to deal with the consequences.
She wouldn’t survive it. To do that, she’d have to accept the improbable was possible, and that she could trust him. That she could believe the things he said about her, things she couldn’t believe herself.
So, ultimately, it wasn’t about not trusting him. It was about not trusting herself, the courage of her own heart. She’d doubted that part of herself from the first time she’d seen her failure in Cole’s eyes. Now the organ beating so frantically in her chest had so many cracks, there was no way it was strong enough for this. The problem was, she didn’t think Jon was going to give her any other choice.
That too was a thrilling and terrifying possibility.
Chapter Twelve
Jon had enjoyed the company of many submissives, as Rachel had accurately guessed. He’d never had one like her. Though he always cared for the women he bedded, he didn’t have the emotional investment he had with this one. Still, it amazed the man and roused the Master to fever pitch, the way she anticipated his demands as if she knelt obediently in his brain, watching every flicker of activity beneath her silky lashes.
He’d depleted her emotionally and expected that to affect her physical endurance. As such, he anticipated outlasting her tonight, driving her over the edge of exhaustion and beyond, and he did. He’d intended to do so. As he’d said, he wasn’t a heavy-handed Dom, but he knew when it was needed. She needed his ruthless demands, because they fed a soul too long starved of the chance to serve a Master.
Every time he took her body, or put her on her knees to suck him off again, or placed her back in Child’s pose to eat her p-ssy to climax, she gave him every ounce of energy she had. Her voice became hoarse from screaming, and her legs trembled if she tried to stand, such that he had to help her to the bathroom when it was needed. She didn’t want him to go in with her, and he let her have that, understanding a woman’s vanity, but he was at the door to take her back to the bed. Seeing how much she wanted to give him, beyond the last reservoir of strength she possessed, made his heart fill with feelings he knew exactly what to call, feelings she was too afraid yet to hear.
He’d seen the look in her eyes when he’d first put on the condom, and he’d read the emotions clearly enough that the Dominant in him had wanted to toss aside the irrelevant thing and take her the way he should, nothing between them. But the feelings that kept her silent, still thinking this would end, had stopped him. Just as she was afraid of binding him to her unwillingly, he wouldn’t ever let her believe that a life they created was what made this permanent. There would be time for all that, once he had her heart nestled trustingly in his hand.
The last time, when he slid inside her—rough enough to make her moan with a slave’s deep desire to feel the pain with the pleasure, gently enough not to abuse sore tissues too much—she managed to wrap her arms and legs around him, but she was clinging like a leaf not sure of its grip. He’d depleted her to the point she thought she wasn’t capable of another orgasm, and he suspected she was right—at least in this position. He gave her his once more though, because he knew she needed that, needed to know she’d served her Master well.