Page 13 of Love by Design (Club Rapture: Risk Aware #1)

SILAS

M arshall’s tongue licked a hot line up the side of my neck.

My cheek pressed into the sheets. My hips still arched from the pillows he’d shoved between me and the bed. My body had never been so thoroughly used.

Every touch was electric, half an inch too far over the line of pain to be pleasurable anymore, my skin reduced to nothing more than nerves and need. His strong hand kneaded my ass cheek, and I whimpered for him.

“I could so easily become obsessed with you,” he whispered, easing out of me, but even for all his gentleness, it felt like being split in two.

I bit as much of the bedding as I could get into my mouth, hoping it would stifle the sound of my unhappiness.

“I know. I know.” Marshall petted his hands down the small of my back. “Rest now.”

So, I did.

I closed my eyes and let him take the pillows away, let him uncuff me from the bed, from the spreader bar. His fingers were skilled as he undid the clasps on the cuffs themselves, his mouth soft as he pressed kisses over the ones he’d sealed in at the start of the night.

“No more multiplication tables?” I mumbled, rocking my head side to side before landing back on my cheek.

Marshall—who was still fully dressed—helped move me onto my side, wrapping his arms and one leg around me like an entirely different and more affectionate sort of bondage from earlier.

“You’re more present now than you were then.”

I hummed, tilting my head up and back to try and get a look at his face, but his hold made it nearly impossible to wriggle away. I tested my shoulder against the spread of his arm, and he lifted enough that I was able to untangle myself to turn and face him.

“Am I?”

Marshall hummed, stroking my embarrassingly sweaty hair away from my face. “A bit,” he murmured. “Do you have a shower in you?”

I reached out tentatively, pressing my hand against the middle of his chest. His heart beat hard and steady, pushing up against my palm with every pump.

“Alone or?—”

“Not alone,” he said.

“Then yes.”

He smiled, a fleeting thing I wanted to chase after.

Marshall helped me into a seated position, then slowly slid my legs over the edge of the bed until my feet hit the floor.

We stood up together, and he didn’t even give me an option besides leaning my body weight into his.

Marshall supported me and my shaky legs out of the bedroom and into the en suite bathroom which was just as modern as the rest of his house.

“Is that a steam shower?”

“Yes,” he said. “There’s a bench in there too. Go sit, and I’ll be right behind you. ”

“I don’t get to watch you get undressed?”

“Did you want to?”

I angled my head to the side. “Why wouldn’t I want to?”

He made a thoughtful sound, then gestured toward the shower with his chin. “Go sit down. I’ll be right there.”

If I had more energy—or more stamina—I would have pouted.

Instead, I did what I’d been told…which was kind of the whole point.

After shuffling into the shower, I sat on the bench, wincing and readjusting my weight to lay off the ache in my ass and my thighs.

There were definitely going to be bruises, and I wanted to see them, but I’d have to wait.

Marshall followed after me, reaching in to turn on the water and the steam feature before pulling the door closed and sealing me in.

Resigned to wait, I dropped my head against the tiled wall and closed my eyes, wondering if I’d somehow slipped and woken up in some kind of alternate reality.

There weren’t enough words for the things Marshall had done or the way those things had made me feel.

The negotiation had been so clear, the expectations of the scene planned but not predictable.

Just thinking about the ways he’d bound me and touched me had blood thickening my cock again, which should have been near impossible considering the way he’d drawn out my pleasure in his bed.

I dropped my hand into my lap, my fingers making a loose fist around my cock, and as if he had a sixth sense, Marshall opened the shower door and caught me, making a noise in the back of his throat that sounded far more pleased than it did disappointed.

I slid my hand off my cock, opening my eyes and blinking him into focus.

The shower had already started to fill with steam, but the gust of air from Marshall’s entry cleared enough of it for me to make out the thick swell of his thighs, the v-cut of his hips, and the smooth planes of his stomach.

His cock hung long and hard between his legs.

He handed me a bottle of water, the plastic crinkling loudly in my grip.

I took a trembling drink, then closed the bottle and set it beside me on the bench.

“Still horny?” he asked, eyeing me curiously after closing the shower behind him.

Suddenly, the space felt so much hotter than before.

Smaller.

I didn’t know what to say, so in reply I lifted my hips from the bench so he could see my quickly growing erection.

“Obsessed,” he said under his breath, and then he sank down to his knees with the grace of a man who knew how good he’d look once he was there.

Steam whirled around him, and water rained down over both of us, and Marshall spread his hands apart against the insides of my thighs and pushed my legs wider to make room for his shoulders.

“You don’t?—”

“Put your hands behind your head, Silas. Thread your fingers together and don’t fucking move.”

Marshall took my whole cock into his mouth and his throat like he’d never even heard the words gag reflex before, let alone have one.

I cried out, bucking up from the bench even though he’d told me not to move.

Tightening the hold I had on my hands, I willed myself back down, my desperation turning into not much more than breathy moans and whimpers as Marshall tried to suck my sanity out of my dick.

I was tired and sore and pleased and wanting, and in the thick air of the shower, it was easy to get lost in the heat of Marshall’s mouth, the all-consuming feel of him.

My next orgasm knotted itself together, a ferocious and violent thing at the base of my spine, and seconds before my body fell into the release Marshall’s throat promised me, he rocked back onto his heels, breathing heavily and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

I banged my head backward, grateful for the padding of my own knuckles and the equally angry erection I could make out between Marshall’s flexed thighs.

“Drink some more water,” he said, which was the actual last thing I’d expected to come out of his mouth.

My hands went for the bottle, opened the cap, raised it to my lips, all on their own. My brain was tangled up with the need to protest, lost in the shock of an orgasm denied. I set the bottle back down on the bench and returned my hands to their place at the back of my head.

“It’s barely after ten,” he told me next, standing and bringing his cock to eye level.

Sucking him earlier, when I’d choked around the length of him while he spanked me, had been one of the hottest blow jobs I’d ever given, and I was eager for a repeat, but Marshall didn’t give me that instruction. “We’ve got another hour at least before I need to bring you all the way back down.”

“I don’t have to go home at midnight,” I protested. “I just need to check in.”

“What are you proposing?”

I hated how often I found myself at a loss for words with this man, how many times he forced me out of my comfort zone to give voice to my needs and my wants. It was an embarrassing thing to speak up, sometimes.

“Nothing,” I said.

Marshall frowned, reaching for a scrub puff and a white bottle of something I assumed must be soap. “Don’t lie.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “I don’t know. I wasn’t.”

“What do you want?” Marshall lathered the soap and cleaned his chest, his stomach, and lower still. The steam made it hard to see, harder to breathe, or maybe that was just…

“I wanted to stay, but it’s not my pl?—”

“Then stay.”

“Not my place,” I finished.

He added more soap to the puff and pulled me to my feet.

Instead of washing me, he brought our chests flush and rubbed against me a little bit like a cat.

His erection dug into my stomach, and only after he’d transferred almost all of the suds from his body to mine did he turn me around and use the puff on my back.

When he reached my ass and my legs, he switched to his hands, using his fingers to press and prod at the tender muscles.

His mouth grazed across my ear, and he whispered, “Whenever you’re with me, sweetheart, it is very much your place to ask for whatever you want.”

“I want to stay,” I said. “And I want to come.”

He smiled and brought his soapy hands between my legs, leisurely and loosely stroking my dick.

“You can stay,” he said, “and you can come, but not yet.”

“Marshall.”

“I like you a little desperate.” He walked us one step over and the water rinsed both of our bodies clean. “I like the way you look on the edge.”

“Are you going to spank me again?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes, but…” I trailed off, swallowing past my doubt. “But like the way you said before.”

He dragged his hands lower, hefting me off balance by the insides of my thighs until one foot was propped on the bench. If we hadn’t agreed to use condoms he could bend me over and thrust right inside.

“You want me to take you over my lap and let you slide your cock between my thighs until you come?”

“Yes,” I rasped, sounding so terribly breathy.

“You have no idea how much I want that.” With one arm still around me, Marshall turned off the water, leaving us in the steam. “But not tonight.”

“You said to just ask.” The words came out sounding so whiny I wished I could catch them in my hands and shove them back into my mouth.

“Your ass is a kaleidoscope of all my favorite colors, Silas. I don’t want to overdo it.”

“I can take it.”

“I know you can, but there’s two of us here, right?”

He wrapped me in his arms again, rested his cheek against the side of my head, and I melted into him with a content little purr.

“Right,” I agreed.

“So let me wrap you up in the softest, warmest towel I can find, let me take you back to bed so I can kiss every single one of the bruises you let me give you.”

He was already walking me backward out of the shower, only breaking away from me long enough to source a towel to wrap around my shoulders. “And we can talk about what we want to do together next time, and the time after that, and?—”

“Can I still stay?” I asked, cutting him off.

“You can stay.”

“In bed with you?”

Marshall huffed out an amused breath. “Where else would you stay if not with me?”

“I don’t know, like a guest room or something.”

“If you’re with me, you’re with me.” He walked me back into the bedroom and sat me down on the edge of the bed. The cuffs were strewn across the floor, the spreader bar discarded near the condom wrapper. The sheets were sweaty and twisted into knots.

Marshall surveyed the mess we’d made, the corner of his mouth tipped up into a curious look that might have been a satisfied smile, but I was too tired to be sure.

He’d been right with the decision in the bathroom.

Even though I wanted him to spank me again, even though I wanted to come.

I was beyond exhausted, already crashing from the high of our scene.

“I’m going to go get your cell phone so you can check in with Lincoln, then I’m going to get fresh bedding so you can tuck in under the covers. Is that all right, or do you want me to stay?”

I squinted, shocked at the choice, even more floored at my answer.

“Maybe stay for another minute,” I said quietly, and then Marshall was beside me on the bed, and I was curled safely again in his arms.