by Jasmin Quinn
He smiled softly at her, his black eyes caressing hers. Seeing her soul. Devouring it. “You haven’t forgotten everything have you?” He stood up and helped her into the tub, letting her sink down under the bubbles. He showed no immediate signs of joining her and for that she was grateful. Instead he picked up a soft sponge, drew it through the bubbles and then squeezed the warm water out onto her neck, drawing the sponge down her skin with a tenderness she would not have thought him capable of. She closed her eyes as he slid his hands up her body. The same hands that held her throat bruisingly the night before were now gently massaging her back and neck, the muscles in her arms.
They stayed this way for about 10 minutes, Jack running warm soapy water over her exposed skin, massaging her tension away, and she, sinking into the moment, letting it happen, letting him happen to her. Then he removed his hands and shifted over her causing her eyes to pop open.
“I’m going to drain the tub and refill it with hot water.” He told her as he opened the drain. She averted her eyes from his as the water disappeared. Funny. Last night, even this morning, he saw all of her, at her most vulnerable, but now, she didn’t want that. She didn’t want him to see her naked.
Once the tub was almost empty, he opened the taps, adjusting the temperature, letting the water flow. This was all done in silence. He said nothing to her nor she to him, not even when he dropped his pajama pants and stepped into the tub. The sunlight curled around his body lighting the solid edges of his chest and stomach, caressing his erect cock. And why not? He was magnificent. Lean, strong and unabashed as he settled into the tub at the opposite end from her. Then he slid his feet around her waist and moved her towards him, forcing her into his arms.
“Turn around and settle in between my legs.”
Mira did as she was told, dismayed that she was being so malleable. As she pushed her bottom up to him, against his hard cock, he dragged the soapy sponge down her back. “Lean forward a little and raise your face up to the sun. Let me wash your hair.”
“I can wash it myself.” Mira felt the rise of heat in her belly, the low throb in her pussy from the night before that never fully left her, even through her fear, her anger, her hate. She struggled to resist it.
“I’ve no doubt, Mira. You sound like you’re starting to feel refreshed. Ready to take me on again, hey?” Jack tugged her hair, forcing her compliance, then brought the full sponge up to the top of her head and squeezed it, wetting her hair, the water trickling down her back and her face and breasts.
“I don’t know,” Mira said quickly. She didn’t want to answer either yes or no. She didn’t know what he would do with either of the answers.
Jack laughed under his breath. “Smart answer.” He kept squeezing the sponge over her hair until it was saturated, then opened a bottle and squeezed out a generous amount of sweet-scented shampoo. He massaged her scalp with his strong fingers as he scrubbed her hair, lathering the shampoo.
Mira thought she might have groaned out loud. No man had ever touched her like this before and it made her feel both wistful and cherished. She would never have thought Jack capable of this kind of tenderness. He was being gentle, solicitous. It was unsettling and erotic, and she was embracing it when she should be resisting it, running from it, from him. But his caresses settled into her bones, making her malleable, opening her up to him, letting him slip back under her defences. She knew it and she was helpless to resist.
He tilted her chin up forcing her to arch her back. Her breasts jutted out of the water. “Turn the faucet off,” he told her. “The tub’s full enough.” She reached for the tap as he started rinsing her hair, heated handfuls of water, falling over her locks, his hands brushing her forehead, keeping her face up, her head back so that the water and soap stayed off her face, out of her eyes. As he finished the rinse, he said, “How do you feel, Mira?”
“Okay,” Mira murmured, wishing he hadn’t stopped.
“Just okay?” Jack pulled her closer to him, forcing her body into the hard ridges of his chest and stomach, her ass against his erection. He brought his hands to her breasts, kneading them gently, teasing her nipples, pinching them, hardening them, then picked up a bar of soap and ran it slowly over her chest, past her stomach, to her pussy, rubbing it over her clit.
She closed her eyes and moaned under his skillful handling. He was bringing her back to wanting. He was teasing her, her breathing was uneven, her body heating up. “Please don’t, Jack,” she whispered to him. “I can’t do this again.”
He gently pushed her head to the side and slid her wet hair away so that her neck was exposed and vulnerable, then kissed it tenderly as a lover. The soap bar lost in the water, he slid his knowing fingers through her folds as he cupped her breast with his other hand.
“I won’t leave you hanging.” His warm, jagged breath brushed her ear. His cock press against her ass, hard and at attention and the part of her mind that ruled her reason faded into the background as he stroked her, fondled her. She felt the heat rising, the ocean rushing at her, grabbing at her senses, tossing her helplessly in its ferocious waves. Forcing her to flounder. She arched her body, thrust her hips to his fingers, begging him not to stop. No shame, no humility.
This time he didn’t stop and her orgasm thundered through her as she cried out from its force. As it ebbed, she sank against him, grasping his hands, folding her fingers around his, trying to meld with him. He drew in a jagged breath as he held her to him, his arms, their arms, circling her waist.
“Mira,” he said softly as he settled his face into the hollow between her neck and shoulder. The caress of her name on his lips, his hot breath against her skin, forced her desire back up and she groaned as she tightened her hold on his hands. He untangled his fingers from hers, slid his hand to her clit and rubbed it, thumbed it as he slid a finger inside her, pumping her, making her needy all over again.
The pressure built in her core and she bucked against his hand, but he withdrew. “Not like that, baby,” he said as nipped her shoulder, sending a streak of both pain and pleasure coursing through her. He moved his hand from her pussy and grabbed and held her wrists as she tried to bring on the orgasm he wouldn’t give her. “Fuck me, Mira. Turn around and face me, put my cock inside you and fuck me.”
A breathless moan escaped her lips as she turned to him. He let go of her wrists and as she looked into his eyes, she saw his own lust. Not hate, or arrogance or mistrust, but pure unbridled lust. He reached his hand to her head and pulled her to him, kissing her gently, but possessively, his lips licking the edges of her mouth before his tongue slid past her teeth seeking out hers. She knelt in the water, brought her hands to his face, holding it between her palms and kissed him back, fervently. Her brain forgot that she was here at his whim, that the man she was about to willingly fuck was a merciless criminal. Her heart, her body, was doing her thinking for her, and it wanted this man, was grateful for his benevolence, loved him for letting her fuck him. It was crazy and exciting and overwhelming.
“You told me to fuck you, Jack.” The sultriness, huskiness of her voice was foreign to her ears. “So let me do it.” Then as an afterthought, she added, “Please,” somehow knowing she needed to say it, always. Jack smiled, a genuine, almost affectionate smile as he let go of her head. She moved her mouth away from his greedy lips and burrowed her nose hard into the crook of his neck and shoulder. As she drew in a deep breath, savouring the man he was, his pure, raw, primal essence, she straddled him with her thighs and slid him into her, sheathing his cock with her pussy.
He let out a slow hiss as she settled her body against his hard, beautiful chest. “You’re so fucking tight, Mira.” He hugged her body to him, one hand dropping to her ass and gripping it, giving her some leverage to thrust. She felt full, stretched, completely and utterly taken, emotions she’d never known before consuming her, fuelling her desire. She started fucking him, moving her ass up and down, rubbing her clit against his pelvis, the bath water massaging her with the waves
she made. The feeling was sheer madness. She tried to stay slow, tried to savour the moment, the intimacy, Jack’s gentleness. She thought nothing about the past or the future. It was her moment, that one she’d been craving.
Jack started thrusting with her, meeting her pace, his breathing knotted, letting her know he was peaking. Then she forgot about him, letting the tide rise through her, forcing her up higher, a geyser about to erupt. She knew she was losing control, her body bucking on top of Jack, her moans unchecked. She sunk her teeth into his shoulder, raked his back with her nails, then leaned away so she could see his face. His head was flung back, his eyes closed, his breathing laboured. He opened his eyes then, sensing her, his expression a mix of surprise and passion as he pulled her lips to his, devouring them as he drove into her. And that was the last fragment of reason for Mira. As his tongue slid into her mouth, she splintered, the heat searing through her and she cried out. Her orgasm blew her mind, jolted her body, left her helpless and she forgot everything – why she was there, who she was with, what she believed in.
She barely registered when Jack came. He cried out her name, hoarsely and then thrust in her, over and over and she took him in, sheathed him as each thrust sparked a new tremor, firing through her body. She thought she might die. She lost feeling for a moment and fell forward onto his chest, wrapping her arms around him, trying to meld with him. In her daze, she felt a small moment of triumph that he’d called her name when he came. A woman’s satisfaction that the man she was fucking acknowledged her, made her more than just a vessel for his lust.
They lay in the tub for some time afterward, not talking, arms and legs tangled, thoughts floating and lost. Mira’s were confused, part denial, part curious. She might do anything to have another orgasm like that. She knew it wasn’t just the sensuous bath and Jack’s caring treatment. She was smart enough to know that it was everything. She knew that Jack gave her what she was craving, led her to this moment with his skillful, ugly use of her. Or was it just Jack, and him alone that caused her to spike like that? Was the man she hated also the one man in the world her body wanted?
He shifted as he sat up and Mira felt a keen sense of loss as his penis slid from her. “How are you doing, Mira?” He ran his fingers through her hair, gently tucking the wet strands behind her ears as he looked at her. He brought his mouth to her lips and gave her a sweet gentle kiss.
All the things Mira wanted to say but couldn’t. Wouldn’t. She was too overwhelmed, not sure what made sense anymore. She thought she should stay cautious. “Okay.” Too tentative.
Amused surprise flickered across Jack’s face. “Just okay?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
He threw his head back and laughed heartily. “I guess we’ve still got work to do if you are only okay.”
Mira cursed inwardly even as heat stroked the pleasure centre between her thighs. No matter what she said to him, she couldn’t win. “It’s okay.” She tried to talk him out of whatever he was thinking. She needed space from him to settle her mind, sort out her emotions.
Jack stood up, water flying everywhere, and stepped from the tub. “Not for me, beautiful. Okay is not okay.” He pulled her out of the water and grabbed a large towel, rubbing her with it. Not the gentle treatment he’d used on her before, but a vigorous impatient drying of her. She stood helplessly in front of him, watching him as he dried her, then himself. He flung the towel to the floor, picked Mira up and tossed her over his shoulder, her head hanging down and bumping on his back as he strode out of the bathroom and down the hall.
Mira cried out in surprise and protest. “Jack, stop! Put me down. I’m better than okay. I’m in awe.” Her voice sounded desperate even to her ears, but she didn’t want to go back to the playroom.
“So you lied to me?” Jack said as he dealt a sharp barehanded smack to her thigh, making her wince. To her relief, he veered away from the playroom and over to the dining room, depositing her on the large ornate oak table. Mira scrambled to sit up, but he yanked her legs toward him so suddenly that she fell on her back, her head banging against the hard top. Jack noticed but didn’t pause to check on her. Instead, he opened her to him, forcing her thighs apart, placing a foot on his shoulder and the other in the crook of his arm.
Mira was frantic. “Jack, no! What are you doing?” Silly stupid question. She knew exactly what he was doing, what he was about to do.
He settled into the master chair and dropped his mouth to her pussy running his tongue between the folds of her vulva, almost to her clit, but stopping just short. He brought his head up. “Having you for breakfast, Mira.” He grinned wickedly and then his expression turned hard. “Stay still. Head on the table. If you struggle, I’ll tie you down.”
A chill ran through Mira as his words fell on her. She couldn’t be tied down again and she desperately did not ever want to return to that playroom. She dropped her head back and tried to settle her breathing. The warmth of the sun beat through the large dining room window, lighting every curve and crevice of her body. She’d never been this exposed before in her life. She pressed her eyes shut. Let it happen, Mira. It’s going to anyway.
His skilled fingers traced the folds of her labia, rubbing her clit with a slow building pressure and as she moved her hips, he dropped his fingers down, two of them sinking into her vagina. Her body trembled as she tightened around him and she felt her wetness leaking from her. He brought his mouth to her inner thigh and bit hard enough to make her yelp, then pulled her ass closer to the edge of the table, nipping her thighs, kissing her stomach, tonguing her belly button, squeezing her breast as he hauled his body up so he could see her face. So he could kiss her passionately. So he could watch her as he fucked her with his fingers.
He removed his fingers as he retraced his path down to her pussy and brought his mouth to her vagina, French kissing it, tonguing it, kissing her like it was her mouth. Mira moaned as pleasure rippled through her. She couldn’t keep her hands still, she arched her back, then rubbed at her head, dropping her hands to her breasts, squeezing them as Jack moved to her clit, licking it, sucking it, nipping it. Bringing his head up and watching as he rubbed his fingers along her folds, thrusting into her vagina. She brought her leg up and grabbed at her ankle to open herself further, her body writhing as he fucked her with his fingers and tongued her clit. Her breathing was faster, she could hear small moans and mews coming from her lips. And Jack, merciless in his assault with his lips, his tongue, his fingers, bringing her up and then as she neared the edge, backing off, shifting from her clit to her legs with his kisses, to her belly. Mira couldn’t stay still, couldn’t contain her soft moans. Her hands stroked her breasts, pinched her nipples. He was on his knees on the carpet, the chair pushed back, his laboured breathing matching hers.
Then he stood, towered over her, rubbing his hard, pulsing cock. “Look what you’ve done, baby.” He stroked himself, staring down at her with smoky eyes, holding her own unfocused gaze. He brought his cock closer to her pussy, running its head up and down her clit, the folds of her pussy, pausing to kiss her belly with his lips. Finally, he sank into her with his cock, his hands on her hips, steadying her.
Mira cried out, trembling as he stretched her, cresting as he filled her. He brought her legs to his shoulders and pumped. “Jack,” she moaned, scrabbling at him with her fingers, trying to pull him closer. He pulled himself out, rubbed the head of his cock on her clit as she protested his abandonment of her. Then back into her, thrusting hard again, keeping her close, grabbing her by the ankles, using them to help steady himself. As he fucked her, he ran his hand down her belly, then brought her left leg over so that he could turn her on her side and fuck her from behind. He draped his body over hers and fondled her breasts, her neck. Kissed her lips.
Mira was lost in a sea of ecstasy. It was impossible to know what felt better. He was all over her, doing everything, touching her, kissing her, squeezing her, pumping her. Then he slid his cock out and shifted her over so that she was on he
r belly. He dropped to his knees again as she propped herself up on her elbows to see what he was doing. But she didn’t need to see, she could feel him, his mouth gliding up her from behind, his tongue licking her clit, flicking into her vagina and up to her ass, then down again. Mira cried out as he worked her. “Jack. God.”
He stood and plunged into her from behind, bending over her, pounding inside her. His hand on her neck and the other on her back, holding her down, steadying her as he fucked her. His breath was coming in hard gasps as he pulled out and flipped her to her back, then sank back into her, bringing his hands under her legs, forcing her to meet his thrusts as he held her ass off the table and slammed into her. Mira cried out frantically, almost coming, needing a little more and as if he understood, he dropped down, ran his mouth over her pussy, sucking her clit, tonging it and as she came, she grabbed his head, his hair and screamed his name. While she was still peaking, he thrust into her pulling her up into a sitting position. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his back and he slammed into her, forcing her aftershocks and then coming himself, his cock expanding and then with a yell, exploding into her, his warm semen bathing the back of her vagina.
She fell back on the table and Jack fell on her, his head cradled to her heaving chest, his hot breath bathing her breasts. She ran her fingers through his short hair and tried to settle her stuttering heart. Jack drew small kisses across her shoulder blades and she had a sudden revelation as he looked at her, his eyes a blend of awe and confusion. This weekend was not unfolding as he’d planned either.
Six
Mira snuggled into a soft satiny kimono as she sank into the cushioned white chair in front of a small round breakfast table, which was tucked into a cozy nook, backed by French doors. The bright morning sun shone through the window, hugging and warming her despite the pinch of pain leftover from last night’s paddling and Jack’s extreme fucking of her this morning. The small table had just enough space for two to sit and dine comfortably. The setting was elegant with china plates and coffee cups, silver cutlery, and serving dishes. The smell of eggs made Mira’s mouth water.
