Page 31 of After Dark
And he leaned over her, making sure that every time he thrust into her, he slammed his body into that round, red ass of hers. Pleasure and pain, and his cock so deep inside her that he suspected she felt it everywhere.
But quickly it became too good, too hot, to play games. He gripped her hips and hammered himself into her, the sound of their fucking a loud counterpoint to the way she moaned, again and again. And the way her orgasms kept coming, one after the next, like she was fisting his cock with her tight, hot cunt.
And finally, he felt his own orgasm rushing at him, with teeth this time, and as he poured himself into her in a shuddering, wild rush of heat, she screamed and came one more.
Arlo found he could do nothing but slump over her, undone. Wrecked.
Made new,something in him whispered.
They stayed that way for a good long while.
Eventually, Arlo stirred. He rose and then leaned over to pick up Josette, holding her high against his chest.
This was the other part of the dance. In some ways thepoint of it all, to his mind. There were the games. There was the sex. These were the things their bodies hungered for, but on the other side of it, there was this. The tenderness. The understanding that having caused pain, it was up to him to soothe it.
They called it aftercare, but he thought that if it was only ever offeredafter,it was a paltry form of caring.
He carried her into the bedroom and through it, into their bathroom. Then he took her directly into the shower that was large enough for all kinds of games, but tonight, was all about recovery.
Arlo reached in and turned the water on, adjusting it to what he knew was her preferred temperature—hot enough to smite enemies over the side of a parapet—and when it warmed up, he set her down on the bench built into the far wall.
As ever, she stunned him.
She winced as she sat, but her eyes were half-lidded and there was that dazed, soft look on her face. He knelt down before her and took his time cleaning her up. Soothing her. He squeezed scented body wash into his hands and moved them all over her soft skin until he made a lather. He did the same with her hair, washing it. He carried her out of the shower, wrapped her in a big bath towel, and patted her dry. He paid particular attention to her pussy as he dried her, though his touch was matter-of-fact.
And it pleased him all the same to find her ready for him. The way she always was.
He kept the towel wrapped tight around her and sat her in the backless stool that served a variety of purposes in this room, but tonight allowed him to comb through all of that coppery silk, and then leave it to air dry.
Arlo toweled himself off as well and spent a longwhile smoothing moisturizer all over her body and his favorite salve over her ass, to take the sting away — or some of it, anyway — from the marks he’d left behind.
Then he carried her again, back out into the great room, where dusk was creeping into oranges and reds and made the room seem to crackle with its fire.
He went and sat with her in that big armchair, holding her on his lap. She curled into him, resting her head on her shoulder.
It was full dark when she started to stir, and lifted her head to smile at him.
He smoothed one of his hands over her face, marveling, the way he always did, at how perfectly formed she was. Made to fit him completely. In every possible way.
“You told me what you did when you left,” he said, in a quiet voice but one with authority in it. “But you still haven’t told me why.”
He heard the breath escape her then, as if she’d been punched, and he was close enough to watch the way the storms moved into those pale eyes of hers.
“Arlo…” she whispered.
He didn’t know what she meant by that, by saying his name so plaintively. He thought she was probably indicating that she would be fine if they never addressed the subject at all. But his role here was to make sure that they both did what was needed, which wasn’t always what they both wanted.
Though, of course, it was certainly more about what he wanted. That was the tightrope they walked, wasn’t it? He had to govern himself as thoroughly as he practiced dominance over her, or he was nothing but some domineering asshole like his own father.
He’d told Josette all about his childhood, back whenthey’d been getting to know each other years ago. His dad was career Army. There had never been any question that Arlo would follow in the old man’s footsteps—but his career choice was the only place he’d ever done that.
There was no part of him that wanted to make another person feel the way his father had madeeveryonefeel.
“I’m not going to order you to tell me,” he told Josette quietly now. “I want you to. I want to understand.”
He felt the shift in her body—a slight stiffening. She made a face as she tried to find a comfortable spot on that poor, beaten ass of hers, but of course, there wasn’t one. He watched her come to terms with that and saw the ruefulness move across her face when it did.
“There’s not one part of me that wants to have this conversation,” she said, her voice a bit raw from all the screaming and sobbing.
