Page 8 of Painting Her Fate

“Now, where was I?Ah- yes.”

Sliding ever so slowly down his body, he watches intently at my next move- wordlessly begging me to quicken my pace.

All in good time, love. Don’t you worry.

Steam builds in the room as I take his thick girth in my hands and lazily stroke him up and down, teasing him until he’s rocking his hips and begging for my mouth. His hands ball into fists and he sucks in a sharp breath the moment my tongue flicks his tip.

“Bloody hell, woman,” he gasps, “can we end the game so I, *grunt* can fuck your dirty mouth instead?” He growls low as his hands leave the wall and begin combing through my wet hair.

Bad move.

I pull back, my hands leaving him, displeasure laces my every word.

“Tsk. Tsk.” Another finger wave, “You’re not following orders tonight, pet.” I shake my head back and forth, “Must I remind you what happens when rules are not obeyed?” My lips twitch and his eyes widen just a bit. Zane is a little fearful at the queen’s next move, “I feel showing you should fix things.”

His Adam's apple bobs, and his breathing is short, his hands untangle from my hair and go back to the wall, all without vocal response.

Good boy.

Rule number one: no touching unless I say.

You would think after two years, he would have mastered this. Is hewantingto be punished this go-around? Either way, I win. *Merrily*I always win.

The shower room is big enough for me to stretch out, so, for his defiance, it’s what I plan to do. Zane will have to stand and watch as I get myself off. This is a first for me, and I feel only further empowerment at the action.

Taking the extended showerhead, I lay back on the warm tile floor, spread my legs open then position my body so he has a full view and so that the water from the shower wand falls exactly where I most desire.

If he touches himself whilst I get off, he knows the night will end without my assisting him, something he most craves.

I do enjoy being cheeky time to time.It’s far too easy with Zane. I need more of a challenge- someone to give me a spark of what I’m secretly begging for; someone to take control- not one hundred percent, just enough to satisfy, and someone who is passionate about having their woman demanding control as well. A balance of give and take.

Well, this showerhead will do it for me tonight.

I begin circling my clit with a finger and let out a moan at the foreign sensations; the pounding of the warm water swiftly spikes my arousal and allows for the feeling of an audience to fall away from my mind. The sleeping pill is kicking in and doing its magic. I insert a finger, then two and, *moans* -oh, yes, it feels so good. The pulsing stream as it hits my clit makes my fingers move quicker, delve deeper, and drive in harder as I near that precipice.

Suddenly, my body arches as I toss my head back, squeeze my eyes closed, and release a throaty groan that echoes in the confined space.

I can’t tell you the last time I orgasmed.

Yes, I know, I know. No need to pester me. I’ve been a little- busy. I’m in need of finding myself again.

We can thank the sleeping medication for muddling things, because this never happens- ever. As in, never in the presence of another have I been able to fall over the edge into bliss.

The Lili Zane knows, the madame, - the controlling, dominating, sex-

driven woman in front of him right now, this Lili is not the real one. She’s an imposter- someone playing off other’s emotions and taking what she never had the opportunity to have in the first place. I’m playing a role, one that I no longer want any part of.

I have a secret, a few to be exact.

One deep, dark secret is that I, Liliana Hayes, despise sex. I proudly use it to gain control- when before, I had none.But I’m tired.The shattered pieces are making my heart ache more, each and every day. I want out. Far away from all this- whatever this is anymore.

As I come down from the high, I open my eyes and stare at him through wet lashes, my breasts heaving up and down, my thighs quivering, and head floating somewhere in the clouds. Zane’s hands are balled into fists against the wall and his breathing is short. His cock juts out, as he gives it a twitch in my direction; the pierced head damn near winking at me in its silent pleading.

I raise a brow and gather myself. The mistress is prepared to bring this man to his knees. If she must.

“Have we learned our lesson, Mr. Morrison?” I say as a teacher would ask a disobedient student. My lips tilt up on their own accord. His answer is a creased brow and a nod, then a bite to his pierced lower lip. No other words are used.

There’s a sexy smile as I say, “Good boy.”

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