Burn (Songs of Submission #5)(29)
Author: C.D. Reiss

He pushed in, still holding my hands, rocked his hips, then pulled out. He repeated his movements at that pace until a little nugget of frustration built in my belly.

“Faster,” I said. “Can you go faster?”

“You mean like this?” He pulled out and pounded me, slamming against me. Five times. I cried out, reaching the next level of pleasure.

Then he stopped, letting my hands go.

“Exactly like that,” I said.

“No,” he said with a smile. “Can’t. Sorry.”

“Oh, no. Don’t be an ass**le.”

But his smile told me he had every intention of being an ass**le, and worse. The underwater pace continued. I felt like a balloon was opening up inside me, squeezing all pleasure and sensation out, but he just moved on top of me, rocking, kissing my neck, dragging his lips across my cheek, until he gazed into my face.

“I want you to feel me,” he said. “I want you to see this side of me, how I feel about you.”

I touched his face. “I know.”

“Goddess. You’re beautiful. Let me be yours.” His face lost a little of its control, tightening and loosening at the same time.

“You know I love you,” I said.

“Oh, f**k. I’m there.”

“Yes.”

He increased the pace incrementally, but it was all I needed. The balloon expanded, and I came, pushing my hips forward and taking all of him inside me. My orgasm was slow as the f**k. I felt every second of it as the ball of fire moved from the backs of my knees to the base of my spine, collecting around his c**k before it shattered. I kept my hands on his face, feeling the muscles clench as he came. We cried out together, a stream of names and curses and unspellable pulsing vowel sounds. We prayed to whatever god we believed in, because feeling like that meant that there had to be a God, and heaven, and earthly bliss. We rolled onto our sides, still pumping together, emptying the last of our orgasms inside each other.

There was only breathing for a minute after that. He kissed my fingers when I put them near his mouth. I’d wanted him for weeks, yearned for his touch even when he was miles away. Having had him, I could only say I wanted him again.

“I hope you don’t think you’re rolling over and going to sleep,” I said.

“I have promises to keep this evening.”

“Ah, the owning me.”

“Every part of you.”

“When do we start?”

“Give me a minute to change from vanilla guy to kinky guy.”

I rolled on my back and laughed. Vanilla? Jonathan? The thought. He turned and stroked my chest, fingers reaching for a nipple. He fondled it hard, then pinched until it hurt. I gasped, and he twisted it until my face contorted and I breathed through my teeth. Then he let it go. I groaned as the blood rushed back.

“God help me,” I said.

“Go run a bath, goddess.”

I faced him. “Yes, sir.”

The bathroom had been merely functional up until then, and the tub had been of no use to me. Though I’d appreciated its size, the curves of white porcelain should be used for sitting and soaking for hours. It had a control panel with buttons for the temperature and the chrome water jets. I ran it hot, because that was how I liked it. Steam rose and fogged up the mirrors. The hotel had provided some scented tubes. I considered each one and decided on the least flowery.

I took off the garter, dropping it on the floor in a pile of white lace and satin.

“It smells like a bordello in here,” Jonathan said from the doorway.

“Do you hate it? I can start over.”

“No. I like it. I want you relaxed.”

I stood by the tub as it filled, the swirl of arousal between my legs matching his more visible excitement. I didn’t feel relaxed, necessarily. I felt as if I was tiptoeing on the head of a pin.

“Get in,” he said.

I complied. He turned the faucets off before following.

“Now,” he said, putting his arms around me and pushing me against the wall of the tub. “Put your elbows here.” He placed them on the marble shelf outside the tub, where one might put candles or soap if one wasn’t busy giving up control of one’s body. He moved his hands over my br**sts, my stomach, and my thighs. He parted them until my knees were above the water, resting my feet on the ledges at each side of the tub. My hips floated, leaving my pelvis just below the surface.

Jonathan stroked between my legs, letting his thumbs course the length of my cleft and onto my clit. Then his hands moved over my sides to my br**sts again, stroking my ni**les with his thumbs, and back down. He repeated his movements up and down my body until I groaned.

He pressed his middle finger to my ass. “Don’t clench. Easy. Relax.”

I tried to think accepting thoughts as he stroked me again and slid his thumb in my pu**y. I let out an ah. He hooked a finger in my ass**le. I didn’t tighten, keeping myself as loose as I could.

“How does that feel?” he asked.

“Good.”

He thrust two fingers in before I’d even finished the word. I cried out. It was good. Very good. He drew them out then thrust them back.

“You’re ready, and you’re mine.” He took out his fingers. “Flip.”

His pressure on my body told me what to do. I put my hands on the ledge, and my knees on the benches. My ass and sex hitched up, my ni**les touching the cold edge of the tub. The sting of his hand slapping my ass caught me by surprise, and I yipped.

“Shh. Don’t make me gag you.”

“Yes, sir.”

I felt his mouth on my cheeks, kissing across them. Then his tongue worked its magic on my pu**y, my clit. Everything tingled. He put his tongue on my ass**le, and I thought I would die of pleasure.

“You’re clenching.” He picked up a hotel bottle of something I couldn’t identify, because I dared not look around.

I felt something liquid on my back. His hand spread it over me, between my cheeks, lubricating me. When he slid two fingers in my behind that time, I didn’t clench because the feeling was much different. I was aroused everywhere, and it became a wordless harmony, a counterpoint note, its existence completing the sensations in my clit.

“Better,” he said. “You’re doing well.”

“Thank you.”

He pulled his fingers out and pushed my ass down a little. I felt his dick at my crack, and his thumb dug into one ass cheek, opening me to him.

“Stay relaxed.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it. I have you. You don’t have to worry about anything.”