Sex Retreat(45)

“Mitch,” she whimpered.

“I will not forsake you, Trixie,” he continued.

“Mitch, you don’t have to make any promises to me.” She rolled her head to the side and accepted his ravenous, tongue-driven kiss.

“I’ll hold you, Trixie,” he whispered, sliding down to the floor. He knelt behind her and dragged a washcloth and bar of soap with him. He cleaned her from front to back, using the soap between her pussy lips before moving to the crevice behind them. Then, he repeated the same process with the rag, rinsing her thoroughly.

Shards of electric sensations tantalized her nerve endings. She gripped the metal shower bar and braced for the best of Mitch.

He eased his way around her body, positioning himself in front of her pussy, eye level to her cunt. Trixie stared down at him and as if totally on reflex alone, her body jolted. Her hips pumped forward.

“I will have you, sub,” he rasped, that dark and guttural edge surfacing. He blew a steady stream of hot air over her clit and smiled up at her. “Tell me, sub. Tell me who you belong to.”

“You, Sir.”

He shook his head. “I’m not Sir. Who am I to you?”

He blew again and her breath caught in her chest. She looked up at the ceiling, trying to think of how she should address her objection to calling him out as she’d referred to him in the past. He’d betrayed some level of trust and because of that and the fact that she would never give him a title suggesting she held him in higher regard than perhaps Brock or Rory, another name would need to be established.

“You’re my Dom,” she said.

“And how will you address me?” he asked, standing. He searched her eyes. “I asked you a question. I want an answer.”

“How would you like to be addressed?”

Mitch planted a tender kiss upon her lips. “You know what I am to you, sub.”

He raised his hand and swatted her pussy. A loud wallop resounded. Her folds were saturated, completely damp as she struggled to maintain her balance.

Mitch rubbed her vagina with the heel of his hand. “Tell me, my little submissive woman. Who am I?”

Trixie bit her lip and swung her lower body to him once more. “You’re my Dom.”

“Master,” he whispered, kissing her belly. “I’m your Master.”

“No,” she objected, shaking her head vehemently. “You’re my Dom, Mitch.”

He slowly dragged his fingers through her folds and watched her. Her body trembled under his touch. “Have you forgotten how much you enjoy me, sub?”

“No. I haven’t forgotten.”

He stuffed his middle finger inside her vagina and twirled the digit higher as he blew on her hard clit. “Why then won’t you refer to me as I’ve requested?”

Trixie’s shoulders rose and fell as he fingered her. He blew against the knoll between her legs, and left her with a multitude of sensations as much as distorted emotions. “You know why, Mitch.”

“I’m your Master!” he yelled, jerking her hips forward and dragging his tongue through her pussy lips.

Trixie’s back bowed and she rolled her head from side to side. “Dom. You’ll be referred to as my Dom.”

“That’s not a show of respect,” he complained. He propelled his arm behind him and slapped her pussy again. “You’ll follow my wishes, sub.”

Incredible heat washed over her. Fiery sensations tapped at her clit as his tongue slivered over her pussy lips again.

“I can make you see things my way,” he promised, standing before her once more. Gripping her shoulders firmly between his large hands, he added, “I can make you love me again.”

“I do love you, Mitch, but—”

His cheek twitched. He set his square jaw. “But what?”

Trixie stumbled backward as she observed the darkened shadows under his eyes. She wasn’t afraid, but rather alarmed. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she had caused him pain because he knew, down deep he had to have known, she didn’t trust him. Mitch would view the fact comparable to betrayal.

“Mitch.” She dragged her fingertips across his bottom lip. Those kissable lips were still as tempting as any other part of his body. She’d always had a difficult time defying Mitch. He was the epitome of perfection in looks. In delivery, he was exceptional, always able to carry through on the ultimate of intimate pleasures.

“You don’t trust me?” he asked.

She stared at him.

“Answer me.”

“I do not trust you,” she said firmly. This time, she wanted to make sure he heard her.

They stood there silently for a moment before he said, “Finish your shower. Then, get dressed.”