Page 40 of Dallas
I reach to close the curtain to avoid getting water all over the bathroom, but Dallas stops me, leaving it pulled about two-thirds of the way across. It’s probably enough to avoid soaking the floor. Even though it’s see-through, why am I not surprised he wants a direct view?
I close my eyes as I let the water run down my body. How have I managed to end up naked in front of a man I met nine days ago? A man who’s watching me shower so intently I can feel his gaze. He’s hungry for me, but it’s his own archaic rule that’s keeping him from having me.
I could get used to this alternate universe I’ve fallen into. One where I never have to cook because I now have Gretchen. One where a man dotes on me every moment. One where I have more rare books to explore than most museums.
I grab my own shampoo from the corner of the tub. At some point, he must have put my toiletries in here. Not surprising. When I lift my arms to wash my hair, a breath hisses out of him. I can’t keep from grinning. I’m sure my rather large breasts are accentuated with my arms raised.
Dallas is hovering. I don’t have to open my eyes to know he’s inches away from me. I feel his intensity and decide to toy with him. With my hands covered in bubbles, I slide them down from my hair to my breasts, molding my palms around the full globes and squeezing gently.
A low growl fills the room, but I keep my eyes closed and ignore him. To continue my torment, I pinch my nipples between my pointers and thumbs and pluck them several times before twisting and pulling on them to the point of pain.
I had no idea I might enjoy a little pain with my sex until this week. How could I know? Now that he has suckled my nipples and spanked me, I’m fully aware that I have a bit of a masochistic side.
Leaning back, I rinse the shampoo out of my hair while I flatten one hand on my torso and smooth it down to my pussy. The moan that escapes my lips is real, even though I’m putting on a show. As soon as I stroke over my clit, my knees nearly buckle.
I’ve been hypersensitive since I first met Dallas, and my arousal keeps growing by the day. He’s got a spell on me, and it might be permanent. If it is, I wonder how many days, weeks, or months I’m going to feel this constant arousal. If I’m with him all the time, I suspect it will not subside.
I reach farther, dragging my finger through my folds.
Suddenly, Dallas grips my wrist. “You may rub your clit, baby, but if you put that finger inside your sweet cunt, I will punish you.”
I open my eyes and meet his gaze. This man brings out a side of me I never knew existed. The fact that he now knows all my secrets and has shown no indication he will turn away from me has deepened my feelings for him. My fear of rejection has been eliminated.
Him punishing me is going to be part of my life. I can already tell I’m going to enjoy it. Nothing he has suggested as a means of discipline has turned me off in any way. He’s given me cause to hesitate a few times, but even the threat of plugging my ass is not enough to stop me from tempting fate.
With the exception of tampons, I’ve never pushed a finger or any other object into my pussy. I’ve never even thought about it until the past week. Stroking my clit has been sufficient to get myself off to visions of Dallas. But if he’s going to order me not to do something…
Chances are I will defy him for the rest of our lives. I’m going to do so because I like to hear him growl and I like how dominant and demanding he is. I’m going to push and push, and then I’m going to love whatever discipline he doles out.
As I stare directly into his eyes, I ease my pointer into my channel. I only make it to the first knuckle before he tugs my wrist away from my pussy.
“Tsk tsk. Such a naughty girl.”
Dallas is fully clothed, and I’m not sure what he will do next, but I don’t care. I start giggling.
He chuckles. “Turn to face the wall, naughty girl.”
I’m trembling as I obey him.
“Hands flat on the tile above your head,” he orders.
I do that, too. I probably should have thought about my actions more thoroughly before I made this decision because I really need to come. I suspect that’s not going to happen now. I should have given myself an orgasm and then tempted fate.
“Spread your legs, baby.”
I glance over my shoulder to see him pull his shirt off. Good. I want his hands on me in whatever form that might look like. Pleasure, punishment, or both. He angles the spray toward the wall and pushes the curtain open.
I part my feet about shoulder distance, and the next thing I know, his hands are on me. Slippery hands. He’s washing me. He doesn’t say a word as he quickly washes my body, skipping my breasts, which I most thoroughly already washed.
He doesn’t linger when he swipes over my pussy. The rest of me gets very clean. He even puts conditioner in my hair. “Step back into the spray so I can rinse your hair but keep your hands away from your body.”
I’m panting as I do as I’m told. It’s shocking how much I enjoy following his demands. My pussy is dripping. Luckily, he can’t know that with me standing under the spray.
As soon as he decides I’m rinsed enough, he shuts off the water and takes my hand. “Step out.”
I look at him and giggle. His jeans are soaked.
He smirks as he grabs a towel and pats me dry before wringing out my hair. “Keep laughing, baby. Keep laughing.”
