Then he showed her that serving her Master well also meant giving him her pleasure when he demanded it. Once again gagging her with the cock plug he’d brought, he slid down her body and spent long, leisurely minutes arousing her with his mouth. Thanks to Lucas’ tutelage in how to re-awaken a woman who’d been stimulated repeatedly, he was able to bring her back to a short but intense climax that had a small amount of her cream spurting on his tongue one last time. It drove him crazy seeing the way she was sucking on that gag frenetically at the end, her hungry eyes wanting his cock. But he wanted to give her tenderness now. She’d earned it.
So instead, he removed the gag and rolled her over onto her stomach to give her a thorough Tantric massage. He started at her feet, pressing his thumbs into the soles, working his way up her legs. He took his time on her shoulders, an even-handed, rolling and caressing of the muscles. The chakra clearing was trickier, because as he passed his hands six inches over her body, he had to flick his wrists repeatedly to get rid of the more destructive energies. It was like sloughing a snake’s skin even as he saw a new one forming. He put aside his ego, knowing years of pain and denial weren’t going to be obliterated in one night. He’d have to be satisfied that he’d stirred those chakra energies up quite a bit tonight, knocked a lot of things loose.
He’d been telling her the truth. However long it took, he was here. She wasn’t going to shake him or shut him out.
When he was done and brought her food and drink, he had to lift her to a seated position. She blinked blearily at him. He’d brought some eggplant and bread, the wine for him and water for her. She’d put a pitcher of ice water and a glass on the table if he wanted it with his food. She’d thought of things like that, and he knew anticipating his needs, both domestic and sexual, were an integral part of her nature. He wondered and cursed at the ex-husband, a man he didn’t know but who had so obviously not appreciated the gift she was. Worse—instead of appreciating it, he’d abused it.
Setting those negative thoughts aside, he lifted her, moved them to a roomy easy chair in her bedroom. Adjusting her in his lap, both of them naked, skin to skin, he shared a plate of eggplant parmesan and a glass of water with her, occasionally sipping at the wineglass he left on the floor to his left. True to what he’d promised, he didn’t let her touch a fork or glass with her fingers. He fed her himself and satisfied her thirst by holding the glass to her lips and watching the movement of her graceful throat as she swallowed.
When at last she slept, he held her close. There was a quivering undercurrent to her repose, one that made her press herself to him, slide her arms around his shoulders, hold on tight. In the unconscious state of her dreams she sought the comfort of male companionship, the Master she’d lacked for far too long.
He kept his arms banded around her, rocked her, all without waking her, soothing her in those dreams. He was here, she wasn’t alone.
His gaze moved over the room, lingered on the closet where the photo album was hidden. Her life with her husband had made her brittle, fragile, and the death of her son was the tragedy that shattered her completely, turned her into this shell. But Jon had known she was still there, burrowed deep in its spiraling tunnels. The truth had been in between the lines of what she’d told him at his office.
If her husband had simply been a vanilla guy who didn’t understand the D/s compulsions of his wife but who truly, deeply loved her nevertheless, they could have figured something out. As Jon had recognized, she wasn’t the kind of submissive who would have left her husband because he wasn’t a Dom. All she truly needed was to be loved. If he could have accepted what she was, and how that could manifest itself in a vanilla relationship, they would have had a chance. Instead, Rachel Madison was beaten down and plain terrified of trusting another man with her heart.
All of which might suggest he should move slow, take the relationship on a lazy ride before he pushed her where he intended to take her. However, his intuition told him differently. While he didn’t always abandon common sense in the face of eerie coincidence, he couldn’t deny the similarities. The two married and one almost-married K&A men had all known their chosen women for a certain number of months beforehand, as he had with Rachel. But because of their unique circumstances, once each man set his sights on her and fired the first shot, so to speak, he’d had to close the deal within an extremely short time frame. Savannah, in the course of one night. Cassie, twenty-four hours. For Dana, it had been three days.
While his and Rachel’s circumstances didn’t define the timeline quite so precisely, he knew Rachel wasn’t at a point she could endure the usual seesaw of a relationship’s development. And if he was being honest, maybe that was why the urgency had as much to do with his feelings as hers. He wouldn’t tolerate the stress that could cause her, the doubt and fears, based on her past history. Jon knew what he wanted, and he was willing to use the “shock and awe” tactics Peter had referenced to help her believe it. He wanted her to make that leap toward him, away from what had been and into what he could offer her now. What he would offer her. So instead of hiding from the truth, he’d convince her she could take shaky steps down that road, her hand firmly in his every step of the way.
He already had a plan in mind, but it would take some coordination. Luckily, he knew where he could find help. Sliding out of bed near dawn’s light, he tucked the covers around her exhausted body and went out onto her balcony. Opening his phone, Jon pressed Peter’s number. The obsessive bastard was the only one he knew for certain would be up and doing his morning workout by sunrise. At one time, Lucas would have been up and biking ten miles before work, a mild workout for him, but since Cass was legal guardian of her younger siblings, his mornings were usually a bit more chaotic these days.
“Yeah.” Peter’s voice was pitched low, and Jon’s brow rose.
“What? Dana isn’t doing a triathlon with you before breakfast?”
“She had an exhausting evening.”
Despite his other concerns, Jon had to smile at the tone of a sated predator in Peter’s voice. “Is your fiancée acting out again?”
“When is she not? I think she likes doing that.”
“Only because you punish her for it. Have you ever considered getting her a driver who doesn’t remind her so much of you?”
“Why do you think I have him drive her?” Peter’s wolfish smile was as audible as the devotion in his voice. “She likes to keep me on my toes.”
“I’ll say. You better give Max a good bonus, though Lucas will make you take it straight out of your check.” Jon leaned a hip against the rail, grinned. “I shudder to think of her idea of a bachelorette party.”
“Thanks for that terrifying reminder.” But Peter’s manner changed then, became more sober. Jon was sure he was now gazing at his sleeping fiancée. He was probably sitting in his roomy recliner, still in his boxers but with his laptop balanced on the arm while he reviewed the overnight reports from their Central American plants.
“It’s her way of telling me she won’t be considered helpless, no matter how much I try to take care of her.”
“Is she doing okay?” Jon knew that in addition to physical therapy, Dana was also in psychotherapy to deal with the PTSD and other emotional issues that dogged a soldier who’d experienced such a traumatic injury. His question was twofold, for that journey had affected Peter as well, who understood it both from the perspective of a fellow veteran but also as the significant other who helped her through the night terrors, depression and other challenges.