Page 24 of The Possession

It might take another hour for her to truly awaken, and I’d be here, ready to hold her, to comfort her, to ensure she was fully recovered from the physical trauma of being taken by three men.

I washed every inch of her, then took her into the shower tocontinue the protocols of taking care of her. She stood on her own, her only indication of being aware, but she still didn’t speak while I shampooed her hair. She didn’t move while I soaped her off once more. And didn’t acknowledge me as I conditioned her dark strands.

It wasn’t until I had her in a towel and seated beside me on the couch that she finally stirred, her eyes blinking back into awareness as she searched the room in sudden alarm. When she realized where we were, she began to relax again, her hand going to my thigh as if needing to touch some part of me.

I picked up a comb and ran it through her hair, giving her the time she needed to acclimate.

Then I studied her when she eventually turned toward me.

Neither of us said anything.

This was her recovery time. She ran the show now. I merely assisted in her return to reality.

Her eyes dropped to my mouth. “Kiss me.”

I wrapped my palm around the back of her neck and pressed my lips to hers, not needing to be told twice. Her lips parted for me, her tongue tasting mine as if for the first time, and then she climbed into my lap, her legs straddling my thighs.

She wrapped her arms around my neck and devoured me as if I were her lifeline, her only chance to breathe. And I allowed it, knowing she needed this reaffirmation of our bond to help cement her claim over me.

Her teeth dragged over my lip, her kiss intensifying.

Then the tears came, not of pain but of relief, as she shattered against me in a blissful wave of hope and adoration.

I held her through it, kissing her softly, murmuring words of encouragement into her ear, telling her how much I adored her and how thankful I was for her gift of ultimate submission.

“I love you, baby,” I whispered. “I love you so damn much.”

She hugged me tightly. “I love you, too.”

We weren’t in Master/slave mode now.

This was the real us.

The quiet pair that only existed inside these special walls.

Outside, we wore different masks. My proclivities were well known. Everyone who saw us together noted the collar she wore in public, aware that she was mine. But it went so much deeper than that.

Our hearts beat as one.

I worshiped her just as much as she worshiped me.

Which came out now as I helped her come down from the emotional high of what we just shared. I carried her to our bed, laying her down between our sheets, and slid inside her. She was already wet for me, her legs wrapping around my waist in a welcome embrace.

But we didn’t fuck this time.

Instead, I made love to her.

Slow, passionate, thorough love.

This was about rejoining our spirits, celebrating our relationship, and demonstrating our devotion to one another.

Her body came alive beneath mine, her pleasure a ripple of satisfaction that quickly consumed me. It was always like this with her, always passionate, always perfect.

I throbbed inside her, my release hot and wicked and intense, as she milked me with her swollen walls, her body falling apart in a climax that left her in tears.

I kissed her through the pain.

I held her through the night.

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