by Linnea May
The windows of the bathroom are fogged, covered with a thin layer of ice on the outside, and I turn on the shower as hot as possible. The heating system in this house is so old that it can barely keep up with the harsh winters we get here, so I'm used to relying on fires in the fireplace and hot showers to keep myself warm. I take my time, relishing the feel of the hot water pearling down my skin as I warm up and get myself ready for him. My back prickles with pain when the water hits, and I'm torn between being tormented by it and smiling because of the pleasant memories attached to the pain. I don't think I can take another spanking like that again, though, not today.
But if you had asked me before, I probably wouldn't have thought I could take what he did to me yesterday, either.
I've spent so much time in the shower that the entire room has turned into a sauna, and while I dread going back out there and facing the cold, I know I'll have to do it at some point. I take a deep breath and enjoy a few more moments of the hot water's embrace.
But just as I'm about to turn off the water, I hear the door to the bathroom opening. I can't see through the shower curtain, but I also don't attempt to move it aside. Instead, I just stand there, frozen in place. Waiting.
"Mind if I join you?"
His voice is muffled by the streaming water, but I can still hear him loud and clear.
"Uh..."
My heart skips a beat when I see his hand grabbing the shower curtain from the other side. He pauses for a moment, before he pulls it aside. I know it's silly, but I instinctively try to cover myself as soon as he lays eyes on me. He has no such worries and just smiles at me when he steps into the shower next to me. One advantage of this shower is that it has been designed for an elderly lady. It’s built big enough to fit two people, a feature that I never thought I'd make use of while I was still living here.
I'm so surprised by his sudden appearance that I don't know what to do or say. Luckily, with him, I don't have to worry about that, because he naturally takes the lead.
He places himself under the water stream and takes a deep breath as that same warm embrace that I was enjoying assaults his senses. His hands find mine and gently push them down to the sides of my body.
"Wash me," he commands his voice deep and confident.
My eyes rest on him for a few more seconds, my mouth partly opened as I try to process his presence here, but when he juts his chin forward, egging me on, I'm finally capable of obeying. I reach for the body wash, ooze a handful of soap into my palm, and begin soaping his perfect body, giving special attention to his muscular chest, until he guides my hands lower, surpassing his pelvis until I reach his hardened length.
A spark of pride and arousal dashes through my core when I get a hold of his cock. He's so hard, just because of me.
"Show me what a good girl you can be," he commands from above, and I tilt my head back, my eyes wide in question. He just nods, beckoning me to know what good girls do and how to meet the requirements.
My eyes never leave his while I close my hand around his girth and gently start stroking, watching as his eyes flicker heatedly with lust.
He doesn't need to say a word for me to know that he wants me down on my knees, working his length with something besides my hands. An approving smile tugs at the corners of his mouth when I slowly lower myself to my knees, holding onto his muscular legs as I descend.
His rock-hard length pokes against my nose when I reach my knees in front of him, and it makes me giggle. I tilt my head back and cast him a cheeky smile as I wrap my hand around his girth. My fingers are barely touching when I close them around his shaft, and it stirs my core with desire. I wish for nothing more than to have him inside of me again, and my lust for him causes me to rush, even though I had planned to take my time with him.
I lean forward, the water dripping down my face as I part my lips and take him in. He groans with relish, and it only eggs me on to go deeper, even though I can't breathe already. I move until his tip is pressing against the back of my throat, and I momentarily retreat to gasp for air.
He places his hand on the back of my head and gently pushes me forward, leaving me little time to rest before my lips are wrapped snuggly around his length again. He's so big, it's impossible to even get close to taking all of him in, but I love trying. My tongue graces the lower side of his shaft and I use my hand to help out, increasing the pressure as my fingers close around him. His moans grow deeper as I continue pleasuring him, barely able to reach more than his big tip. I'm getting dizzy, a vertigo caused by the fact that I can barely breathe or see, as the water running down over me makes both incredibly hard to do.
A surprised gasp escapes me when he steps back, holding my head in place with one hand, tilting my face up to him, and strokes his cock with the other. I hungrily part my lips and stick out my tongue, inviting him in. But I know he doesn't want to find his release at the back of my throat. I don't know if it's consideration or a preference, but he chooses to peak while looking at my face, his hot cum mixing with the warm shower water.
Chapter 22
Jason
I carry her down the stairs, curled up in my arms, a soft robe wrapped around her dainty body.
"I can walk," she protests, but I ignore it.
"You don't have to."
She sighs and lets it happen, her arm loosely wrapped around my neck. I gently place her on the sofa in front of the fireplace, and the smile on her face widens when she realizes how warm and cozy the room is, now that the fire has been burning for a while.
"Take it off," I say, pointing at the belt of her robe, "I want to see you."
She slips me a curious glance, but does as she’s told.
"My turn?" she wants to know, once she's gotten rid of the robe.
I shake my head. "You already came twice yesterday, remember? Now, give me the robe."
Her eyes narrow, but she follows my request and hands over the robe. I've seen her naked plenty of times now, but she still curls up timidly, trying to hide her nakedness from me when I sit down next to her.
I wrap an arm around her and pull her closer. She's tense in my embrace, and I don't like that.
"You're really good at this," she says, pointing to the fireplace. "Maybe you can chop some more wood for me later."
She winks at me, suggesting that she's joking, but I nod nonetheless.
"Sure," I say. "I can do that for you."
Lena laughs, as if the idea of me chopping wood was the most ridiculous idea she's ever heard.
"There might be squirrels out there, Mr. Big City, are you sure you'd be okay?"
"Go on, just continue teasing me like that, you know you're going to regret it," I tell her.
"That's future-Lena's problem."
"It will be."
She shifts around in my embrace, cuddling up against my side while she traces the lines of my pelvic muscles with the tip of her finger.
"You know, I feel small next to you," she whispers after a while.
I look at her with a teasing grin.
"You are short compared to me-"
"That's not what I mean," she says. "I mean... I guess I'm just trying to explain to you why... what happened yesterday."
I nod, even though I don’t fully understand where she's going with this.
"You mean your reaction when I told you my full name?"
"Yes, that," she says. "It's weird to have someone like you here. Someone like you - with someone like me."
"Someone like you," I repeat.
"Yes, I'm a nobody compared to you," she utters. "You're so accomplished, and I'm just..."
"You focus on the wrong things," I say, unwilling to let her finish that sentence. "I'm not accomplished. I'm just the offspring of someone accomplished. The offspring of that offspring, actually, because my father inherited everything, too."
She shakes her head, her hand now resting on my naked pelvis.
"It's still different," she argues. "You are someone."
"So
are you," I say. "You're Lena..."
Crap, how can I not know her last name? I've had so many chances to ask, but yet I haven’t.
"Shafer," she says. "At least that's how you Americans butcher the pronunciation."
"You Americans," I repeat, with a laugh. "Aren't you one of us?"
"Only when I choose to be."
"So, you're pretty much shaping your own little world as you please.”
She sighs. "I wish. That sounds so proactive, very unlike me."
"Are you calling yourself lazy?"
She sits up straight, distancing herself a bit, but her eyes seek mine.
"I don't know if lazy is the right word," she says, her expression hardening as she speaks. "It's more like... I want things to be different, but I don't do anything to change them."
"Like what?" I prod. "What do you want to change about your life?"
She bites at her lower lip, and turns away from me then, her eyes roaming the room as she ponders her answer.
"This, for example," she says after a while, gesturing around the room. "My grandma has been dead for almost a year, but - as you pointed out - it still looks like she's living here, and I'm just a guest."
"Grief takes time," I say, trying to comfort her. "Some people don't change anything in their homes for years after someone dies."
She shakes her head. "It's not that. Her death wasn't sudden, or a surprise. I had a lot of time to prepare for it. There’s something else."
She bites her lower lip again and avoids my gaze as she fights back tears. She jerks when I place my hand on her shoulder. It's a clumsy attempt at comfort, a clear indication of how long it's been since I've done this for anybody. I don't know what to say or what to do to ease her pain.
"You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to," I say in a low voice, unsure whether this is the right thing to offer, or if it comes across as a lack of concern.
"The thing is," she says eventually, sadness clouding her features. "She made me promise something. Shortly before she died, she made me promise. And I... I haven't kept that promise."
I look at her expectantly, watching as she nibbles on her bottom lip and her eyelids sag.
"A promise?" I ask.
She nods. "She made me promise that I would get out of here after she was gone. That I would sell the house and go to college."
Her voices breaks, and she tries to gloss over it with a helpless chuckle.
"She was always very adamant about that, about me going to college," she adds. "Or to the city. 'Where the young people are', she used to say. She was never happy about me staying with her after I graduated from high school."
"Why did you stay here then?"
Her eyes have a haunted look when she looks at me.
"Because she was sick," she says. "She got very sick during my last year of high school, and she needed me to take care of her. I couldn't just leave her, not after all she'd done for me after my parents died."
I nod. "I understand that."
"I mean, I'm not gonna lie, it wasn't easy," she continues. "It was different when I still went to school. I had a circle of friends, but they all left to go off to college or the city for a job. Hardly anyone stayed here, so I was left all on my own, with Oma. I continued working at the diner, and in my free time, I took care of her."
"That sounds tough."
A smile skirts across her face, lifting the shadows for a split second.
"It wasn't all bad. I loved Oma, we got along great," she says. "It was comfortable. Safe. A home."
I like how she refers to her grandma as 'Oma'. She hasn't done that before, but it sounds so loving and cute when that word rolls over her lips in that weirdly sharp accent.
"Is that why you're still here?" I want to know. "Because it's comfortable? Safe? Home?"
She nods. "I must sound like such a coward to you."
"Why would you say that?"
"You don't think I sound like a coward? A small town girl who's afraid of the world?"
"You crossed an ocean when you were fifteen," I add for consideration. "Most people don't ever do that in their lifetime."
She lets out a chuckle, and her face brightens.
"That doesn't count, silly," she retorts.
"Silly?" I say, giving her a dirty look. "You're calling me silly?"
The sass in her gaze as she beams at me sends a bolt of desire shooting through my chest. It's that cute smirk, one from a girl who knows she's treading in dangerous territory, about to awaken the beast inside.
And she wants it. She's calling out to that side of me.
"What if I was?" she teases. "Would that get me in trouble?"
Chapter 23
Lena
It's strange to feel this way. I never knew that emotional turmoil could have this effect on me, but it appears that opening up to him like this makes me wish for more, more of that bliss that he’s bestowed upon me.
I want him to touch me, to play with me, to take me like he did yesterday. Our little shower session has left me all hot and bothered, but instead of answering my pleading eyes, he chose a different path to intimacy. I don't know why he's showing this kind of interest in me, but there are a lot of things I don't understand about him, especially now that I know who he is.
He's the kind of man who could have anybody, any one of the glamorous girls frequenting the clubs in Manhattan, high society ladies in fancy designer clothes wearing priceless jewelry around their necks. If anything, I thought I'd just be a little detour, something to mix it up. A small town girl without the glitter that he’s used to.
And despite his apparent interest in me and my story, I should never forget that this is all it is. All it can be. A quick, short-lived adventure, for both of us.
Nonetheless, the intimacy we built through our conversation, the way he looked at me, the way he held me in an attempt to comfort me when I opened up to him, telling him things that I haven't shared with anyone else - it all makes me want more. It's as if my own vulnerability spurs me to seek a different kind of closeness. The physical kind.
His eyes flicker curiously when I start teasing him, and even without saying a word, he can read what I’m hoping for written all across my face.
"You are asking for trouble, aren't you?"
I wink at him. "Maybe."
"That's a dangerous game you're playing, little girl," he says. "You may get more than you bargained for."
He may think that he's the one pushing my buttons, but I'd say that I push his just as easily. After all, this sudden change in the air between us was stirred by me.
I straighten up and jut my chin forward, challenging him. "Show me! As I see it, you still owe me."
"Owe you?"
His eyebrows arch higher than ever, and it makes me giggle.
My reaction to his expression finally sets him off, and I yelp in surprise when he leans forward into me so abruptly that I almost fall off the couch. He grabs my wrists and forces my arms behind my back, crossing my wrists and holding them in place with one hand while grabbing a fistful of hair at the back of my head, forcing me backward as he plants a demanding kiss on my lips. I welcome it when his tongue tangles with mine, eagerly engaging in a wild dance. My pulse speeds up, and I can feel my core throbbing with need. I never knew I could want anyone or anything this badly.
I moan when he breaks our kiss, and there's a moment of quiet understanding between us when our eyes meet. No words are exchanged, but I can read the question in his narrowed eyes, and I offer a subtle nod. I'm more than ready to play.
He acknowledges my response and turns away, searching for something. My gaze follows his movement as he reaches over to grab my robe. But then I realize he’s not actually going for the robe, but the belt around it. He quickly yanks it out of the loops and commands me to turn around.
"Hands behind your back."
I follow his order, turning away from him, my hands still crossed behind my back. He wraps the belt around them in a few quick
moves, securely tightening a knot around my wrists so I can’t move my hands. He yanks at the end of the belt a few times to check his work, and then he barks out his next order.
"Up on your knees."
I shift into position, only to receive a stinging slap on my behind. My skin is still sore from yesterday, so it hurts a lot more than what it usually would, even though he didn't use his full strength. I clench my teeth to keep myself from shrieking out when he slaps me again.
"Beautiful," he comments. "Looks like you've been a naughty girl before."
A dark smile fills my face. I almost lose my balance when he gets up from the sofa behind me, but I stay in place waiting for his next demand.
"Turn around," he snaps. "Lean back and sit as you normally would."
Balancing myself is so much harder with my arms tied behind my back, but I manage to comply without falling. He's standing in front of me, in nothing but boxer briefs. I'm flattered by the visible bulge between his legs. Flattered and excited.
"Lean back and spread your legs."
I cast him a puzzled look, and blush when I realize what he's asking of me. I scoot forward until I'm almost sitting on the edge, before I lean back and reluctantly spread my legs before him, placing my feet on the sofa as best I can.
"Wider!" he barks, his expression hard and unyielding.
I mewl in protest, but manage to scoot a little farther, spreading my legs a bit wider. I avert my eyes in shame, remaining in this vulnerable and exposed position, allowing him to study me from above. He has seen every inch of me, several times now, but I've never yet bared myself to him like this.
The heat of embarrassment only grows stronger when he drops to his knees in front of me, placing his hands at the inside of my thighs and pushing them apart even further.
