“Wyatt!” she cried out, her orgasm an unstoppable train of sensation and brute force.
A loud, rumbling groan tumbled out of him as he went over the edge with her, his cock swelling inside her and pulsing with his release. He rode the rocket launch with her, pumping inside her as unintelligible sounds passed her lips and her muscles began to shake with the power of it all. The feel of him, the water, the heat. Her head swam.
He banded an arm around her waist and swiveled her over and away from the jets, as if he’d known the exact moment when it all became too much for her. He held her against him, her back to his chest, his cock still inside her as she sucked in deep breaths, slowly finding her way down from all that intensity.
“Shh,” he soothed. “You’re okay, beautiful. Just take your time. I’ve got you.”
The words were like warm balm to her twitching body. He slipped out of her, while still holding her upright, and tossed the condom to the shower floor. Then he led her back to the bench on the far side of the shower. He sat down and pulled her onto his lap, the steam wafting around them and the lightning still flashing through the skylights.
She curled into him, glad for the water and the dark. At least he wouldn’t see that she was crying. Crying from relief, from physical exhaustion, and from the fact that she now knew there was no way she’d walk away from this unscathed.
This man could undo her.
This was gonna hurt.
CHAPTER TEN
Wyatt carried the bags of groceries they’d left in the car into the kitchen. He’d lit a few candles and put them on the island, but they barely provided enough light to work by. He peeked into the bags, confused as to why Kelsey had brought groceries with her. It wasn’t like they could bring them on the trip. But maybe it had worked out after all because there was no option for going out to dinner now, and his cabinets were pretty bare. After their interlude in the shower, they needed more than granola bars and bananas to refuel.
The shower. He released a breath as he loaded the items into the darkened fridge. The night had not gone at all as planned. He’d promised himself he was going to handle this in a very calm and controlled manner. This kind of relationship, even if only for a week, was something that needed discussion, knowledge of individual limits, and negotiation. It had been irresponsible of him to just go after her like some overeager frat boy. But when he’d seen that haze of submissiveness fill her eyes, that doorway to subspace peeking open, he’d gone into conquering mode.
And she’d let him take over, given him leave to use her in exactly the way he desired. His own psyche’s response to it had been potent and impossible to quell, the dominant needs in him no longer content staying buried. It had been so long since he’d allowed that horse out of the stable that everything had surged at once. Instead of easing her into it, taking it slow and letting them get used to each other, he’d charged forward like she’d been wearing his collar for months.
Physically, she’d responded beautifully to it, her body surrendering to him fully. But afterward, he’d sensed her closing in on herself. When he’d dried her off and wrapped a robe around her, her words had been lighthearted, but her expression had been shuttered. He’d pushed too hard too quickly, and she was retreating. He didn’t like it. It was like a bright flag of challenge waving in front of him, taunting him. He wouldn’t accept her shutting herself off from him. The training they were going to do had a big physical component, but the real heart of any D/s relationship was the psychological aspect. Without that, it was just playacting.
But this was partly his fault. He’d been the one to move too fast, sending her back behind her shields. So he wasn’t going to push anymore tonight. They had things to discuss and plans to make anyway. He had seven days with her and possibly three additional weeks if they decided to continue the training when they returned from the trip. There’d be time to peel back those layers and find out what lay beneath.
A clicking sound from behind him dragged his attention from the refrigerator. Kelsey stood in the entryway of the kitchen in a pair of yoga pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt, the flashlight he’d given her in her hand. “There you are. I think I took a wrong turn at the bottom of the stairs. This is a big-ass house.”
“I’m sorry. I should’ve put some candles in the living room to guide your way. Did you find everything you needed upstairs?”
“Yeah, thanks for bringing my bag up,” she said, stepping inside and giving him a once-over with the flashlight, sliding the orb of light down over his T-shirt and pajama bottoms and pausing at his bare feet. “Wow, you look different.”
He started on the other bag of groceries, the corner of his mouth lifting. “I don’t sleep in suits, you know.”
“Well, one wonders.”
He placed a block of cheese inside the fridge, then heard the electric whoosh of the power kicking back in. Lights blinked on above him, and the refrigerator hummed back to life. “Excellent.”
He adjusted a few things on the shelf now that he could see where he was placing everything, but spun back around when he heard the gasp. Kelsey was still in the arched doorway, but her blue eyes were wide.
“What’s wrong?”
“Ho-lee shit.” She stepped inside, her bright pink top in sharp contrast to the all white room, and ran a hand along the granite countertops. “This is . . .”
“A kitchen?”
She gave him a don’t-be-stupid look, and he lifted an eyebrow. He didn’t get that look too often.
“I hate you so much right now,” she declared.
“Okay . . .”
She walked over to the range and petted it like it was something precious. “Fuck, you have a Viking.” Her head dropped forward as if she were praying at the altar of appliances. “And let me guess, you don’t even cook.”
Author: Roni Loren“I’m . . . sorry?” Her accusatory tone seemed to indicate an apology was necessary. “I have a cook, does that count?”
“No.” She raised her hand at her side, keeping her back to him, but silencing him all the same. “Give me a second. I think I’m sporting girl wood.”