Page 18 of Master Key Resort

Cordell eyed his pretty sub standing in the middle of the room with a deer-in-the-headlights look, as if she expected him to pounce on her.

Gently taking her wrist, he pulled her to him and cupped her chin. “Relax, pet.”

He lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers but resisted the urge to do it again. “Strip while I warm up the shower for us.”

Her breath hitched as the meaning of his words penetrated her mind. He smirked. “Yes, pet, we’re going to shower together. You’re going to explore my body with your hands and mouth until I can’t take it anymore. Then I’m going to do the same to you until you beg me to fuck you. As always, you have your safeword. If you use it, I’ll find my own release. Either way, you’ll sleep next to me in that big bed completely naked. Is that understood?”

She blushed and nodded. “Y-yes, Sir.”

“Good girl. Strip and then come join me.”

After placing a chaste kiss on her forehead and then a more erotic one on her lips, Cordell left her to do as ordered. In the bathroom, he was pleased to find a large shower stall, with a tiled bench to sit on, instead of a tub. He rotated the handle to start the spray, then got rid of his clothes before testing the water temperature and adjusting as needed. Steam filled the room, and Cordell flipped a switch on the wall to activate the overhead ventilation fan. He pulled two fluffy towels out from a rack under the sink and set them on the counter. The provided shampoo, conditioner, and body wash bottles and two washcloths went on a shelf in the shower.

Tiffany appeared in the doorway, completely naked, with wide eyes as she stared at his erection. God, she was so beautiful she took his breath away. He reached out and skimmed his knuckles down her cheek. “You’re nervous, pet.”

It was a statement not a question. The evidence was in her twisting hands, quick breaths, dilated pupils, and pounding pulse at her carotid. Cordell had interviewed or interrogated enough subjects over the years to easily spot the anxiety cues. But Tiffany wasn’t scared. She was anticipating what was to come. Her nipples were distended, despite the warmth of the bathroom from the shower, and he was certain if he ran his fingers through the folds of her bare labia, he’d find her soaked.

“What’s your safeword?” His knuckles dropped to her breast and brushed over a taut peak. Tiffany hissed and closed her eyes. Her body swayed toward his touch, not away from it.

She moaned when his hand found her other nipple and tweaked it. “Eyes on me, and I expect an answer, pet.”

Her gaze found his. A dreamy expression was on her face, as if she were already on her way into subspace. Fuck, how had he resisted her for all these months?

“It—it’s red, Sir, but I don’t think I’ll need it. I trust you.”

“I thank you for your trust, but I expect you to use your safeword if I do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“That’s my girl. Step inside.”

He shut the bathroom door, to keep the cooler air out, and then followed her into the shower. Within seconds they were both drenched. Retrieving one of the washcloths, he poured some body wash onto it, then squeezed it until lather formed. He placed it in her hand. “Clean me, pet, from head to toe. Take all the time you want—within reason, of course.”

He gave her a wink, and a smile spread across her face as her shoulders relaxed a bit. “Of course, Sir.”

Cordell watched Tiffany’s face as her gaze followed her hands and the washcloth as they worked over his neck, shoulders, chest, and arms. It was as if the act of washing his body was mesmerizing to her. She made circles as she ran the cloth over his skin, taking extra swipes over any large or small scar she came across. He’d gathered quite a few of them over the years—a few from his youth and others from his time on the force. In addition to the ugly scarring on his hip from the bullet and hip surgery, there was a white slash that went halfway around his left bicep. It was a reminder from when a psycho with a knife had suddenly attacked him while Cordell had been standing in line at a deli for lunch three months after graduating from the police academy. His field training officer had been able to shoot and kill the guy before he could inflict any more damage. It’d taken thirty-two stitches to close the wound and was a lesson learned—never let down your guard, no matter where you are and what you’re doing.

When his front, upper torso was clean, Tiffany asked him to turn around. Cordell smirked as he pivoted to face the other wall. The little imp was saving the best for last. His cock throbbed, as his skin tingled wherever she touched him. His blood burned in his veins, and his fingers itched for him to say to hell with the cleanup because they were just going to get dirty again. He should be exhausted after driving all day, but he’d be damned if he’d pass on this opportunity to get inside the woman he’d been craving for months.

After she was done with his back, Cordell gritted his teeth as the washcloth ran down his spine to his ass and then between his legs. His thighs, calves, and feet came next. Christ, he hadn’t meant for her to take him so literally.

When she tapped his leg, he glanced down to see she was on her knees. “Turn around again, Sir.”

“With pleasure.”

His new position put her face right in front of his erection, and it twitched when her breath caressed the base of it.

The washcloth slowly climbed his legs until it reached his groin, where she cleaned the ugly scars on his hip. Tiffany bit her lip as she carefully washed his cock and balls. When she’d lathered him up good, she glanced up his torso. “Rinse, please, Sir.”

He stepped back under the shower head and let the water sluice down his body, taking the soap suds with it. Cupping some water in his hands, he splashed his face a few times, wiping away the last of the day’s dirt and sweat.

“May I, Sir?” She was staring at his erection as she licked her lips. Who was he to deny his sweet submissive?

Closing the distance between them, he grasped his cock, tilted it downward, and rubbed the head against her lips. “Open, pet, and take me, but do not make me come.”

“Yes, Sir.”

When her lips closed around the shaft, Cordell’s knees nearly buckled. Her mouth was hotter than the water beating his back. After months of not allowing himself to take advantage of the recovering submissive, his only sexual release had been at his own hand. Now, he was moments away from coming in her mouth if he didn’t wrangle in his control.

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