He pushed me away and then shoved me into the shower. I hadn’t realized how much I missed a simple shower until the warm water cascaded over my skin. I quickly forgot where I was as my sore muscles began to relax and the spray of water cleansed the past few days away. I tilted my hair into the flow and wished I could run my fingers through it, but I settled for the small pleasure.
In my imagination, I was alone in my shower at home. I was running through my mother’s garden during a rainstorm. I was anywhere but here where everything was obscure. It was the first time since I’d been here that I fantasized of being elsewhere. But he wouldn’t give me that for long. I froze as his hand touched my back. His fingers were slick with soap as they glided over my skin. I stopped breathing. Tried to stop thinking and return to that garden where I didn’t have inappropriate reactions to a man who had snatched me off the street. A man with intentions of using me to get what he wanted from my dad.
I had to remember those things. And I did. It was my body that didn’t understand. It had become a whore to his touch. He stepped in behind me still fully clothed. The wet fabric of his clothes clung to my back. His hands were on my breasts, pinching and pulling my nipples. I gave him nothing. He gave me everything, sensation after sensation cascading through my system. But still, I stood stock still, the only indication of my arousal hidden between my thighs. He soothed the abused buds with his thumbs. His breath was at my ear, his cock hard against my ass.
God, I shouldn’t want him so much.
He kept one hand at my breast while the other slid down my torso. I pressed my legs together because once he touched me there, he’d know. He tried to pry them apart, but I refused access.
“Spread your legs.”
I shook my head. He smacked my ass so hard fire raced up my spine. I growled. “Is rape part of your job?”
His fingers froze and he stood behind me motionless for several minutes before he released me, turned the water off, and then wrapped me in a towel. I breathed a sigh of relief as he hoisted me over his shoulder and dropped me unceremoniously on the bed. I scrambled to right myself, but he grabbed my wrist and quickly secured me to the bed. He hadn’t given me any clothes, and I was afraid he’d leave me naked from now on.
The bed shifted as he climbed in, and I tensed. He parted my legs effortlessly this time. “Let’s see how quickly you cry rape.”
What? I’d cry rape the moment he touched me. I tried to push my legs together, but they might as well have been tied to the bed, also. I wasn’t prepared for his touch. I’d expected his fingers and had been prepared to fight hard, but the moment his tongue ran across my clit, my body jolted. Hot, wet, strong flicks of his tongue over my sensitized bud had me moaning in seconds, yet still I tried to shut my legs. I squeezed his head so tight with my thighs that he delivered a sharp tap to my ass to get me to obey his command to spread myself.
I’d only been with one man who I realized now was but a boy. King did things with his tongue I didn’t know were possible. His lips moved across my pussy, and when he pushed two fingers inside me, it made my back bow. The stimulation made me forget I didn’t even know his real name. I could barely remember mine. I was a massive ball of need, and I no longer fought it. I pushed into him, pushed my clit wantonly into his mouth. He sucked it and battered it with his tongue repeatedly. His fingers jabbed the same spot within me over and over. My pulse was out of control. I tossed my head against the pillow. My nipples were so hard they hurt. I was on the verge of the biggest orgasm of my life. My legs shook and my pussy throbbed. I was so wet and hot it was on the tip of my tongue to beg him to fuck me. He scraped my clit softly with his teeth then licked the underside, and it was over. I cried out, my body convulsing from the blinding moment of release. He pulled wave after wave of pleasure from me, moaning against my flesh as if he could taste the ecstasy he dished out.
I was shattered, completely wrecked when he pulled away. Without his warmth, I felt cold and exposed. Ashamed of how easily I’d let him own me. And he did now. My body was buzzing, exhausted, and still ached for more. Long after the door shut and the lock clicked into place, I allowed myself to cry. Nothing made sense, and trying to reason with my mind and body put one at war with the other. I didn’t trust my body, and my mind was constantly trying to justify my body’s actions by digging into his past. I was looking for an excuse for his actions and then I could logically explain why my body wanted him so much. But there’d never be a suitable reason for any of the feeling he brought on.
Chapter Thirty-One