Page 52 of Submissive Lies

TWELVE

“Stop. But… don’t.”

We both lay draped across the tangled sheets of the bed, our bodies nestled into each other as skin cooled in the wake of passion. My fingers intertwined with his, each of us moving to play in counterpart to the other, basking in the afterglow of what had just happened.

Our movements were gentle, languorous. A shift to adjust a hip that pressed to a thigh, my toes running lightly from his ankle up his calf, his leg pressing down against mine, capturing it beneath muscles strong enough to make movement impossible. Drying sweat both chilled and revived, and soon both of us settled into the other as we lay still, simply soaking in the serenity that passed between us. My arms wrapped around him, draping across his broad back. Steve leaned down, drew close until his lips were brushing against my ear.

“Are you sore?”

“A little.” I tried to muster enough energy into my smile to make it bright. “It feels so good, though.”

He gave a satisfied chuckle, mouth curving. “Did I mention how incredible you are?”

“You may have…”

He nipped at my ear, trailing kisses along my cheek until his mouth closed over mine, tongues slipping past warm lips, tips engaged in an intricate dance of sensuality. I lost track of time until he pulled away, tracing a pattern of soft bites against my throat and neck. I moaned in frustration as he lifted himself up, wanting his comforting presence back the moment it was gone. The mattress shifted as he pushed against it to stand, the bed moving with a slight undulation as his weight came away. He reached for me with one hand, insistent. “Come on.”

I let him pull me up until my feet found purchase on the carpet. He held me in his arms, and I leaned into his chest. It felt good, and I hung there, body limp, still working to come back completely from the puddle I had been a few minutes ago. I rolled my shoulders, working out muscles tense from everything that had taken place. There was a part of me that resisted, wanted nothing more than to fall back onto the bed, pulling Steve with me. I didn’t, though, and after a moment he shifted, gently turning me around as I groaned in annoyance.

With mild pressure he nudged me forward, and we padded away from the bed, moving towards the bathroom. Steve steered me in front of him and I could feel his eyes on me, confirmed by a soft growl as he followed behind. There was no doubt he was quite pleased with his handiwork, enjoying the display on my backside. We came to the bathroom door and his fingers dug into my skin, pulling me to a halt.

“You first. Just let me know when you’re finished.” Before he let go, he drew me tight to his chest, lacing the fingers of one hand with mine while the other traced a slow path up from my thigh. The fingertips brushed along my skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. When his hand reached my shoulder he stopped, holding me as he placed a kiss to the back of my head.

“Thank you, sir.” I waited until his hand released me, and then I stepped inside the bathroom, closing the door. I walked towards the toilet, but before I reached it, I caught myself in the mirror. I stopped, turning to look back over my shoulder at my image. I could see what had made Steve growl. His belt had left a series of red bands across my ass and thighs, some of which were already fading to a muted pink glow. A pattern of crosshatched lines still imprinted on my flesh that hadn’t disappeared completely, marks probably not as red as they’d originally been, but which still indicated every inch of where he’d punished me. I smiled at my reflection. Damn. Looking at them I could still feel the tingling remains of the act which had left them there. I hugged myself, shoulders tight as a shiver ran down the length of my back. It was an incredible feeling. To stand and bask in the memory of what Steve had done. I stared a moment longer, wondering if they would still remain in five days when I headed home. Doubtful, and I didn’t dwell on it any further, shoving the thought away. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered right now except for how wonderful this felt, and I’d be damned if I was going to let anything break this spell.

When I was finished using the bathroom, I took one last glance at myself and then crossed to the door. Opening it up to step out, I jumped as I found Steve there on the other side, waiting with arms crossed. A tremble of uh oh fluttered up from my stomach.

“And where do you think you’re going,” he asked in a rumbling growl, the smile pulling at his lips the only thing betraying I hadn’t done something wrong. He took a step towards me as I stood frozen, his eyes narrowing as his hands came up to grip me by the shoulders. He gently pushed me back into the room, gazing down at me as I stumbled, my feet tangling up with each other as he moved me in reverse. Steve kept me upright but did not stop his march forwards.

“I thought you might need to…” I stammered, my feet trying to sort themselves out as he continued to frog-march me backwards.

“I’m good.” His grin was cocky, dimpled cheeks accentuating the twinkle in those gorgeous eyes.

My gaze slipped down surreptitiously, and I saw the condom was gone. Taken off and disposed of somewhere while I had been admiring myself in the bathroom. That beautiful cock that had earlier jutted upwards, bobbing proudly to get inside me now hung relaxed against his thigh. I wanted to reach for it, to take it in my hand and run my fingers along its silky length, to see if it still radiated the heat I’d felt when it was sheathed inside me. My fingers flicked at the thought but did nothing more. As he continued to advance towards me, I retreated, backing into the room. I twisted my head, glancing to make sure I wasn’t going to run into anything, and then Steve was right up against me. Before I could react, he had arms wrapped around my waist, hands cupping the cheeks of my ass to lift me. I slid along his chest as I rose, my slick skin running over the ridges of his abs, his chest hair tickling my nipples, making them grow taut at the sensation. I squealed as he held me tight, wriggling in his grasp as he advanced a few steps until my butt hit the hard edge of the bathroom counter. The cool lip of granite creased across my buttocks as his fingers kneaded soft flesh in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with keeping me in check or held in place. I hissed when those fingertips clenched tighter and he gave a final extra boost, lifting me over the edge and depositing me on the countertop.

“Steve!” I yelped, mouth opening into an ‘O’ as my ass met the chilly granite. I tried to wiggle off the counter, but he wouldn’t allow it, pressing his hands down to pin me in place.

“Do I have to order you to be still again?” His voice was a commanding growl, a teasing, warning rumble.

“But the counter… its…cold!” A part of me wanted to do the exact opposite of what he warned. Slip off to the floor and back onto my feet. The implication in his tone was enough to override the thought of not complying, though I did scooch ever so slightly towards the edge as Steve stood there.

He gave me a stern look. “Jen, I’d think twice before disobeying me. If you think you’re sore now…”

I whimpered with frustration, but immediately stopped. It was cold up here, and now my butt had not only the lingering sting from my belting, but the bite of cold from the granite. However, I obeyed, remaining perched there while he started the shower. He adjusted the head, fiddled with the temperature until he was satisfied. Steam was starting to fill the room when he turned back to me. He stalked the few paces between us, eyes narrowing in a look that was hungry, predatory, fierce with concentration on his prey. Me. A shudder pushed through me under that gaze, recognizing it as the same one he’d used to track me last night. Comprehension for what lay behind those smoldering eyes pulsed through me. That right here, in this moment, I belonged to him. Steve didn’t just want to be with me, he wanted to possess me. A powerful, almost animalistic desire made clear by his actions. He would have me, because my body was his. His possession, and his alone. Not that any part of that bothered me in the least. It felt so good, so natural, to feel this way again.

As he drew close, he grasped my legs and spread them apart. I responded, wrapping them around him, pulling in tight. He cupped my breasts, fingers tensing into my flesh, thumbs moving up to brush over my nipples. I closed my eyes, drawing in a deep, calming breath. Steve leaned down, and his mouth closed over mine. As we kissed, our tongues crashed together as they had before, and the room slipped away. Steam had made the air thick by the time he pulled back.

“Hold tight.” He said it softly, waiting as my arms came up and around him. Lifting me again, he turned and marched us towards the shower. As he came up to the door, he nudged it open with his foot until it was wide enough he could carry me inside. There he let me down gently until I stood wrapped in his arms, the water cascading in a sensuous staccato across my back. I leaned against the expanse of his chest, luxuriating in the warmth of it and the bliss of the water that flowed over me.

We moved with each other as we showered, and the sheer intimacy of the act was incredible. Hands slick with soap caressed a body, mine to his and his to mine. Light touches became less gentle in his hands, teasing wet skin with fingers that gripped, pinched, and held me on the cusp until I gave him what he desired. The sound of my voice filled with gratification. One moment his hands were at my hips, gently maneuvering me about the stall until the pressure of his hip against mine shifted me to face him. Then in the next it was fingers digging into me, slamming my back against the tile, his teeth raking the flesh at my neck. He made sure I knew by his every action what he wanted, with half-formed words that were more growls than coherent speech. To each I submitted, bending to his will, my fingers spread open against cool tile that warmed to the touch as he took what was his.

I loved every fucking second of it.

We didn’t make love again because that’s not what this was. It wasn’t what either of us wanted. This was affection and tenderness, care in a way that was unique and yet oh-so-familiar. There wasn’t a single moment while we bathed where Steve wasn’t touching me, where we lost contact with each other, and that made what we were doing even more eloquent. This was aftercare, and the things Steve did—every touch, every pass of his hands over my skin, no matter whether tender or wild—I soaked up with greed. I gave into it, let myself go and offered myself up without reservation because it was just so damn good. When I gave back, I gave with everything, but in my mind it didn’t seem enough. It could never match the way Steve made me feel. He’d melted me into a puddle, and without regret I took more than I gave, selfish, and feeling no shame.

Once we were done, he pulled me from the shower and wrapped me in one of the hotel towels. I stood facing the mirror, watching as he pulled the shower door closed behind him, grabbing his own towel. As he stood there, drying himself, I took my first long look at the scars he wore. There were at least four that I could count. One a narrow pale stroke that began just below the center of his chest, rising and falling over his abs until it wrapped around to his back where it faded, trailing off to disappear into his skin. It was on his back where most of them lay. As he turned, I could see them clearly. Three long, thin lines slashing at an angle like lash marks. They cut rows into his muscles, faint puckering at the edges that only smoothed when they disappeared completely. Two of them crossed over his spine, jogging slightly where they wove through the line of vertebra. At the end of one there was a thicker knot of scar tissue that pushed out from the muscle, a lump of flesh that stood away from the otherwise smooth planes of his body. These were the remains of being in the wrong place at the wrong time I was staring at, and I bit down on my lower lip as everything he’d spoke of at dinner came flooding back. My eyes traced the paths they created across his body a second time, caught up in a swirl of emotions for what they represented. Seconds had passed before I realized he’d stopped moving, gone still. My gaze turned slowly up towards his. The face that stared back at me was sober, emotionless.

“Sorry,” I said softly, swallowing embarrassment as I looked away, face burning.

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