“I’m not complaining.” I laughed, my pulse quickening at his words. “I’m quite enjoying your lusty brutish side.”
“I’m relieved to hear it, because it’s the same fate for your breasts, I’m afraid.” He rubbed his hands together in front of us, building a thick lather, then palmed my breasts and squeezed them, his fingers drawing soft grooves in my flesh as they trailed to my nipples. Every nerve ending sang in response to him, and I ached for more of his touch. His fingers found my nipples, pinching and rolling them roughly, until I gasped with pleasure, and a shock of lust spiked through me.
“I’m very, very fond of your breasts,” he growled, his lips brushing against my ear.
“And this,” he said, sliding a soapy hand down to the dewy cleft between my legs. “I cannot wait to taste you,” he said, “to thrust into you, and feel you from the inside, to feel that tight juicy hole sucking my cock like a greedy little mouth.”
“Oh, fuck me,” I cursed. My knees buckled and he caught me, his hand clamping between my legs to steady me.
“I keep telling you.” He laughed. “Not yet.”
“You’re evil,” I whimpered.
“Possibly.” He nodded. “But you like me that way, don’t you? You like the teasing and the torture, the slow build-up, the anticipation. You pretend you don’t, but you do. You love it.”
I turned in his arms and clamped my hands on his face, pulling him to me, shutting him up by sealing my mouth over his.
He laughed against my lips and cupped his hands around my ass, his fingers probing again, finding my slick folds from another angle, opening me to him, one finger circling the entrance to my sex.
I swear my eyes rolled back in my head. I was helpless in his arms, utterly controlled by his attentions, and I struggled to regain my wits, to give as good as I was getting. I snaked a hand between our bodies, searching for his cock that lay hard and thick against my belly. He caught my wrist and lifted my hand to his lips, kissing it.
“No,” he said firmly.
“Why do you get to dictate what we do?” I asked, looking up at him, my mood sobering. “Are you a control freak about sex, or what?”
“No,” he said, his eyes growing dark. “No, that’s not it.” His hands glided to my back and he set me away from him, taking a step back to snag a bottle of shampoo. He poured some in his hands and began soaping his hair, the cords of muscle in his arms, tensing and yielding as he moved.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ve hurt your feelings.”
“No, you haven’t. Your comment was reasonable from your perspective of things. I just… When I make a promise to myself, I’ve learned I need to keep it. I’m sorry that it comes off as ‘control freak’ to you.”
“I don’t really understand. I mean, you’ve been laying down rules and breaking them since we met. It’s kind of giving me whiplash.”
He didn’t speak, just rinsed his hair, the water sluicing over his face and down his naked torso.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Forget it.”
“No, no Jane,” he said, and pulled me back to him.
“I just need a moment to find the words.” Lathering shampoo into my hair, his fingers massaged my scalp. “When we spoke of our pasts, the things that have happened to us — well, one of the things that happened to me was a terrible betrayal of trust. A boundary was crossed, and the result was devastating and long lasting. Boundaries are very important to me. Especially this one, between us. I’m sorry that it’s confusing to you, but I have to respect that promise to myself; I have to respect that boundary.”
“Which is, exactly?”
He laughed cynically. “You’re right, I’ve been moving the line and bending the rule. But if you can see fit to indulge me, I’d prefer to control things, just for now.”
“Alright.” I sighed. “Send me a memo when I’m allowed to suck your cock.”
“Oh God,” he said. “Someone get me a pen.”
“No, seriously, just let me know, okay?”
“Here’s the deal,” he said, shifting to let the water rinse my hair. “Until you graduate, let me set the pace. Once you’ve got that piece of paper in your hand, no quarter need be given.”
I turned towards him and draped my arms over his shoulders.
“I couldn’t bear it, Jane. I won’t do wrong by you. I couldn’t bear to look in your eyes and see betrayal, or disgust, or desperation, and know that I put that there.”
“Never gonna happen,” I said. “Look in my eyes and tell me what you see now.”
He cradled my face in his hands, and leveled his eyes with mine.
“Lust.” He smirked.
“Duh, go on.”
His gaze grew serious. “Need, compassion,” he said, his eyes searching mine, probing deep. “Esteem?”
“Absolutely,” I nodded. “Go on.”
“Understanding. Kindness, and perhaps,” he said, tilting his head, “the tiniest seeds of something more, something I dare not name. Not yet.”
I gulped.