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15

NATHANIEL

T his seems all too familiar. Just the other day I was watching her in my shower, now I can feel her watching me. Lathering my body with soap, I’m on a mission to remove any lingering pig shit smell from my body. This, by default, is also removing her phantom touch from my skin. The one thing that remains is the feeling left behind from the plug, a mixture of fullness and being stretched out is the only way I know how to describe it.

A cool breeze chills my back, the sound of the shower door closing follows. Turning around, I let the water fall over me as I take in her beauty.

The shower has multiple heads, two on the ceiling and a couple on the wall. Rylee steps in next to me, soaking her body and washing the day away. Her hair is pinned up so as not to wet it, a strand has fallen out, and it takes everything in me not to tuck it behind her ear.

“Does Darian and Cecilia know we are coming?”

“Yes, I told D we would be there within the hour.” Acknowledging me, Rylee nods her head. She looks tired, so much has been dumped on her these past days. I’m impressed she’s still standing. Many would crack from the pressure, but not her, she’s strong, taking it all in stride.

Following suit, soap is lathered all over her body. Spinning around, she makes sure it gets every inch. That’s when the same marks capture my focus. Squinting, my brow furrows. Some of these are fresh, new and reopened.

“What the fuck is this?” I’m infuriated. My hand holds her shoulder and I spin her around, pushing her up against the cool shower tile wall.

She gasps, shocked by my reaction. My feisty girl wastes no time slapping my face in response. The crack of her hand against my skin echoes, and the water running down my skin adds another level of sting to it. She would be happy to know this, but I show no reaction.

Rylee is well within her rights of slapping me; I’m not acting rational, and frankly, I’m elated she didn’t knee me in the balls.

I wear everything on my sleeve with her. Has she noticed? Did she suspect this reaction would occur once I saw the wounds, or did she forget about that before asking to join me in the shower? With anyone else, I wouldn’t bat an eyelash, but her… she is different. Rylee is able to get past the stone wall I have up with others outside of the family.

But that shit doesn’t matter right now; she is my priority, along with the lacerations decorating her back.

“Explain.” There is no need to elaborate, Rylee knows exactly what I’m pissed off about. My face is in hers as I look down, only mere inches from her lips. Our noses touch and lashes tangle in one another’s. Her breasts are pushed against my chest, our bodies connected while I box her in with one hand on either side of her.

Her eye contact remains steady, defiant, and her posture is strong.

“Help me understand, please.”

The pressure of the tile is too much, blood is dripping down behind her, pooling at her feet mixed with the water. Still, Rylee is unfazed.

I try a different approach. Instead of speaking to her like someone I care about, I speak to her like a business associate.

Time to bargain.

“I won’t ask you to stop. Hurt yourself until your heart is content, I don’t fucking care. But help me understand why someone who demonstrates such strength and power in public and with clients needs to do whatever the fuck it is you do to your back.” My teeth are clenched and nothing is kind about my tone. If she wants to be treated like shit, I will.

“You can’t bullshit a bullshitter, Sinclair.” She thinks she has me, which is laughable.

“I’m afraid you have forgotten. Yes, I am protecting you. With the current situation in our town, you need it. I have given you food, shelter, access to your family, and the ability to continue working on me. But I can take it all away. This is still an arrangement, Ms. Vandenberg. Once Dalton is handled, I will give you a stack of cash and send you on your way, just like the others.” I know this stings, because it fucking killed me to say it. My face remains stone, uncaring, but hers flinches. She is hurt.

She swallows back the feelings generated by my venomous attack.

Rylee pushes my chest. “Fuck you.” But I don’t budge.

“Tell me and I will go away.”

“I hate you.”

Winking, I smirk. “Good.”

A scream erupts from her; it bounces off the glass surrounding the shower and violently attacks my eardrums. I have learnt she can also be a tad dramatic.

“For some fucking reason that I can’t explain, my pussy likes you. I have lost control of her, and I never lose control. I always maintain discipline and restraint while in a session, but she,” Rylee points to her bare cunt, “has decided to stop listening to me. It enrages me.” Her tone is more serious as she continues. “I pride myself on my ability to be professional. The marks are from me punishing myself... lashings. I must do better; I will do better. Do you understand?” She winces, and I wonder if this is the first time she has said this out loud.

“If this were a casual hookup, it wouldn’t matter. But like you said, this is still an arrangement, I am on the clock, and this is unacceptable on my part.”

I hear what she’s saying. To a degree, I even understand it, but I wish it wasn't the case.

“This is the first time since I first started my dungeon, professionally working within this lifestyle, that this has happened to me. At the start, it did once or twice, but I trained myself, my body to behave unless it was a part of the session. And how my pussy has responded to you is not included in that small percentage.” It’s fair, she is trying to hurt me like I did her. I am why she is hurt, bleeding into the shower water, and I hate it.

My ex-wife popped pills ‘because of me’ but I didn’t give a fuck. But Rylee… She's different.

Our eye contact is still intact when the next sentence leaves my mouth before my brain can stop it. “We’ve never kissed,” I state matter-of-factly.

Rylee shakes her head slightly, her response short. “And we won’t.”

“Understood.” On the outside I appear unfazed. Internally, it fucking kills me to hear it. I know I’m the one who just laid into her because I am an asshole, but the need to understand outweighed being nice about it. Why does she have to be so fucking different?

We stand in silence, and warm water trickles down our bodies while neither of us move. Whether she admits it or not, this moment is intimate.

I’ve shown I care enough to then hurt her with words.

She has shared a vulnerable part of herself with me, then snapped back, putting me in my place.

Rubbing my lips together, she bites hers. They are so fucking sexy and full, I just want to bite into her bottom lip and suck it into my mouth. Her big eyes look at me, waiting for me to do something, anything. I can feel my cock getting hard. Shit. Flexing my toes, I try to redirect the rushing blood elsewhere to no avail.

“Hurry up, we need to get to the hospital.”

Breaking off from the sexual tension, I step back, freeing her from my hold, and leave the shower. This isn’t the last time that we will speak about this, and her self-discipline techniques, but for now I will let it rest.

I can hear her murmur, “Asshole,” under her breath as I grab a plush white towel from the heated rack.

“Yes, you were just there last night, darling,” I holler back, leaving her alone in the bathroom.