Page 80 of At Her Will

Vera saw that fit for every woman in the group, with the man each had found for herself. Even Abby and Neil. When he came into her life, because of him being a Dom and her illness, it had been hard to see how it would work. But it had, because they were that person for one another.

“Enough of that.” She gestured to the plate. “Eat your cinnamon roll. I have plans for you.”

His eyes warmed and he picked up the fork. As he took a bite, she smiled at his expression. “So was I right?”

“If the devil all about temptation, Cyn got this recipe from him.”

She grinned. “There are days I think Cynisthe devil. Her name does rhyme with ‘sin’ and her full name is Cynbad.”

He chuckled. “You told my aunt there no Satan on your path. But do you believe in evil?”

“Yes. Just as the good that people do permeates all of us and guides us on the Lord and Lady’s path, so too there can be evil, created by the darkness in us all, if we let it get the upper hand, through fear or ego. Kind of how you described it, in that man who tried to take Lynn. I tend to believe the literal translation of Satan,” she added. “Adversary. That adversary can take a variety of forms.”

“Witford call him that, too.” He pursed his lips. “Everything you talk about? Don’t change my view, but don’t disagree with it much, either. There’s room for both. You was talking about your momma earlier. Do you have pictures of your family?”

A wall closed around her heart, protecting it from what the question dredged up.

“I do,” she said. And left it at that.

“One day,” he said, “I’d like to see them. Helps me to have a picture in my mind when I’m praying, and I want to pray that God will heal that rift, take the hurt and confusion away so your love for one another can help you be a family again.”

“Okay.” She still felt rigid. Brittle.

“May I do something, Mistress?”

“Depends on what it is.”

“Saying it might take away from it. Best to show you. Can you trust me, even though I pushed against something that hurt? Maybe because I pushed against something that hurt.”

She nodded. Probably because her wariness was as solid as the table in front of them, he kept his next movements slow and easy.

He took her hand, pushed back from the table and tugged her up and onto his lap. Vera sank into his resilient strength, a bulwark against the turmoil of her feelings. As he cradled her, Rev put his mouth against her throat to kiss her. He held her secure, a hand over her hip, the other arm around her shoulder and back.

She drew in a deep breath, pulling it through her, hollowing out her stomach, then let it out, and descended deeper into that embrace, her arms around him, too. A hug, when done right, offered the right messages, that reassured and strengthened the one who needed it most. This was all that and more. It made her want him even more. She craved his submission to her will. Needed it.

“Thank you, Rev,” she whispered. “Thank you for coming into my life with such generosity and honesty.”

His arms held her even closer. Then he drew back. “You said something about a shower. You want company?”

“Go to my guest bathroom and get started.” Because that idea she had? She wanted to do it even more now, and she intended to set it up before she joined him. “I’ll be there shortly.”

When she arrived, she found him stripped and kneeling, waiting on her by the stall. He started the water and, after she slipped off her robe, he helped her inside. Then he submitted to whatever she desired. Which included soaping and exploring his flesh under the running water with mouth and fingertips, and pressing her body against his. Then she let him bathe her, givinghim thorough instruction, though she denied them the pleasure of shower sex, or finding a climax. For what she had planned, she wanted that momentum to keep building.

After they got out, he picked up the towel. Though he was still dripping on the bathmat, he dried her with studious attention, sweeping strokes of the terry cloth over her face and neck, upper body, arms and legs. He knelt to do her feet, one then the other, as she held onto his shoulder.

“I dreamed of doing this, too.” His voice was a rumbling echo against the tile.

She maybe hadn’t thought of this specifically, but it was going into the growing treasure pile of things she was discovering she did want. Could want. That was the way a gift like this worked. The possibilities just kept expanding.

When he rose, she tapped him on his wide chest, rubbing her thigh teasingly against his wet one, grazing his stiff cock. “Dry yourself, Rev. I’m going to go get changed. I want you to go to the living room like this. Start the gas logs. You can take five minutes to look at what I’ve laid out there. After that, I expect you to kneel facing the chair to the right of the fire. Three feet between you and it. Your knees should be shoulder width apart, ass on your heels, fingers laced behind your head. And I want your eyes closed. Wait until I come and bid you do something else. Do you understand?”

At the club, she’d seen his gaze linger on submissives in that posture. That same interest kindled now, his cock twitching as he digested the potential in her commands.

“Yes ma’am.”

She went to her bedroom. Though anticipation had a good hold on her, she took care with her appearance. She wanted to take his breath away.

When she came down the stairs at last, she paused at the entrance to the living room. She’d left the curtains drawn lastnight, so the morning sunlight was blocked, but she savored what the gas log flame did for the pose she’d dictated. Fingers laced behind his head, the tapering from shoulders and wide back to waist, firm buttocks pressed against his heels. It was worth a long, thorough look.

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