22
Karma
His command cuts through the thoughts in my head. Something primal inside of me rushes to obey him, and the vibrations which had been threatening at the base of my spine gallop out and up my back, to spark behind my eyes. I throw my head back, open my mouth and a soundless cry emerges. The climax crashes over me, and seems to go on and on. When I open my eyes, I am in his arms and being carried to the bathroom.
He seats me on the sink, pulls off the thimbles from his fingers before he reaches over to wash his hands.
"Guess it’s a good thing that you ordered leather thimbles big enough to fit your fat fingers, eh?"
"You weren't complaining when I had said fat fingers inside you," he chuckles.
Heat sears my cheeks again. Can’t believe I let him fuck me with thimbles. OMG, I let him fuck me with his thimble-wrapped fingers. Ugh, and I also enjoyed it. Double ugh. I glance away from him, reach down for my jeans, which are down around my ankles, but he grips my wrist. "Let me," he murmurs, and I straighten.
I watch as he wets a towel, then presses it between my legs.
Heat sears my cheeks, "You don’t have to."
"I want to."
"None of this will change how I feel about you."
"I don’t expect it to."
"If you think setting up a studio for me will get you into my good books…then you are… " I hesitate and he peers up at me from under those thick eyelashes.
"I am…"
"You are absolutely right," I mumble under my breath.
He smirks, then urges me down from the sink. He turns me to face the mirror then drags the washcloth between my arsecheeks.
"Oh, geez," I squeeze my eyes shut, "you really don’t have to do that."
"Let me take care of you," he murmurs as he pats me down once more, then throws the towel aside. He reaches for the cabinet over the sink, opens it and grabs an ointment.
"What’s that?" I ask, then gasp when he applies it to my smarting backside. Coolness soothes the skin instantly. I glance over my shoulder to find him administering more of the soothing ointment to my other butt –cheek.
"It’s aloe vera," he replies as he continues to massage it slowly into my arse. The rhythmic movement sends pulses of awareness up my spine.
My core stutters, my belly flip-flops, and I squeeze my thighs together, chew on the inside of my cheek to stop myself from moaning aloud.Down, slut, down. How much more will you humiliate yourself today, hmm?I choke down all possible sounds of pleasure that threaten to spill from my lips. Watch as he finishes his task, then caps the ointment and places it aside. He pulls up my panties, then bends and yanks my jeans. He turns me around and I glance away as he zips up my jeans. He fits a knuckle under my chin, and angles my face toward him. "Of all the things I have done to you, you find this embarrassing?"
"Of all the things you’ve done to me, this is the most intimate," I shoot back. "You really didn’t have to."
"I really did have to." He leans in closely enough for our eyelashes to tangle. His breath merges with mine; his lips almost brush mine. Those blue eyes of his seem to come alive with an emotion I don’t dare put a name to.
Shit, of all the things that have taken place between us so far, this… This is, by far, the most threatening. My heart rate spikes and my pulse thuds at my temples. Heat from his body slams into my chest, and I gasp. The force of his personality is a heaviness that pushes down on my shoulders and holds me in place. It’s a kind of safety blanket, like one of those weighted-down duvets that hold you in place, that keep you secure, that envelop you with a sense of safety which lulls you into a state of contentment. The hair on my forearms rises.
"What are you going to do?" I whisper, "Why are you being so nice to me?"
His features freeze for just a millisecond, then he brings his big palm up to cup the nape of my neck. "So fucking intelligent, my Beauty. You make a worthy opponent, you know that?" His fingers are long enough to meet around the front of my throat.
I bring my hands up to grab his thick forearm. "Please," I murmur, "don’t."
"Do you trust me?" He lowers his forehead to mine, "Do you, Beauty?" He peers into my eyes, holds my gaze with those hypnotic depths of his. "Do you?" He asks again, "Do you trust me?"
"Yes." I whisper, and in that moment, I know I do. Damn it, why do I have to give him this part of myself too?
His fingers around my neck tighten, specks of black flicker at the edges of my eyesight, I draw in a breath and my lungs burn, then everything goes dark.