Page 63 of Compulsion

We step into a massive ensuite bathroom, and he turns on the shower. Water sprays from three directions, and he tests the temperature with one hand.

When he’s satisfied that I’ll be comfortable, he leads me inside and closes the glass door behind me. We’re still in our bathing suits, but they’re already wet from the rain. The shower immediately chases away the chill that’d settled beneath the surface of my skin, and my muscles fully relax as my goosebumps subside.

His deft fingers find the ties at the back of my bikini, and within seconds, my sodden top falls to the tiles beneath us. My bottoms drop next to it, and I fist his swim trunks to tug them down his legs.

We’re both naked, and for a few delicious seconds, we simply stare at each other, hungry eyes raking over what’s ours.

Because even though I signed a contract giving myself to Dane, he’s all mine too.

You make me feel things I didn’t know I was capable of feeling.I recall his intense confession.

This connection between us is more potent than anything I’ve ever known, and I’m desperate to be impossibly closer tohim. On the beach, he started to open up to me more about his fraught relationship with his family. One day, I might be ready to tell him about mine too.

But for now, I don’t want that negativity to taint the sweetness of our new relationship.

He grasps my hand and directs my palm face-up so that he can fill it with sea salt-scented body wash. It’s a masculine smell, but I don’t mind the idea of imprinting some of his signature scent onto my flesh.

He puts more of the clear gel in his palms and rubs them together to create a lather. Then he starts skimming his soap-slicked hands over my body.

“Touch me,” he rumbles.

I don’t need further encouragement. I finally indulge myself, slowly exploring the swells of his corded muscles. They flex and bulge beneath my tender, reverent touch, as though he’s under some unseen strain.

His hands massage my shoulders, and I tip my head back on a low moan of pure contentment.

His mouth crushes to mine, and he devours the sound of my raw pleasure. Our tongues tangle in a heated duel, each of us fighting to prove how much we want the other.

In the end, he fists my hair, and he wrenches my head back to expose my throat. His teeth graze the line of my vulnerable artery before sinking into the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder.

Pain blooms beneath his possessive bite, but my core pulses with lust. Wet desire that’s slicker than the water slips down my inner thighs, and I can’t help pressing my hips to his thigh in a wanton attempt to stimulate myself.

I remember the way he commanded me to rub against his leg last night while he fucked my mouth. My cheeks heat with delicious shame and arousal. I marvel that this man can use melike his personal fucktoy but also make me feel utterly safe and cherished.

“Is my pet horny?” he murmurs against my throat, soothing away his bite with a flick of his tongue.

“Yes,” I whine, griding myself against him. I’m his needy pet, his plaything. And I’m eager for more of his cruel passion.

He pinches my nipple in sharp reprimand, and I cry out.

“Is that how you address me when we’re together like this?” he drawls.

“Master,” I say quickly. “I’m sorry, Master.”

“Better,” he allows, brushing a doting kiss over my cheek. “I’ll tame your mouth again if I have to, but I want your cunt today.”

I swallow hard and tip my head back, meeting his sparking eyes with an open gaze, allowing him to see straight into me. “I want that too. I want you, Dane. My Master.”

My hand trails over his rippling abs, but before my fingers reach his hard cock, he grasps my wrist to stop me.

“I’m not nearly finished playing with you, pet. I won’t be done with you for a long time. You’ll be weeping for me by the time I finally fuck you.”

My stomach flips—equal parts trepidation and lust.

He traces the shape of my parted lips before capturing me in a quick, fierce kiss. Then he pulls both of us under the cascade of water so that the last of the soap is washed from our bodies.

He turns off the shower and leads me onto the heated tiles. Even his towels are expensive, white and fluffy as clouds. He wraps me in one and insists on drying me off himself rather than allowing me to do it. He’s almost fanatical about taking care of me, just as he vowed to do when he signed our contract.

The fact that we both agreed to this in writing allows me to give myself permission to just enjoy being with him. I don’t have to stand on my own two feet. I don’t have to insist that I can takecare of myself. Dane knows I’m capable, but he wants it to be this way between us.

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