Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Nikolett felt off-balance, and it had nothing to do with the cast, which she’d only put on because it felt a little like armor.
Eric left her sitting on the sink and he went to turn on the water.
Given he was wearing a towel, and his hair was damp, she assumed he’d showered earlier, but apparently they were going to have a shower.
Or maybe a cold shower was her punishment?
No, that couldn’t be, because he’d brought her in earlier, before punishment was mentioned.
It was probably pathetic and perverse how relieved she was at the idea of punishment offering absolution.
She’d lain in bed with Eric, at first dozing with her head on his chest, but as the bliss of finally, finally being with him faded, all the questions and problems reared their ugly heads.
Some of them she had solutions for—solutions she’d started working on years ago.
Some, like her kissing Gus, there were no solutions for, because she should have told him this morning.
As the hours passed while he slept, she’d wound herself tighter and tighter with worry and shame.
Now, he prowled back to her, the bathroom already starting to fill with steam.
Eric cocked his head to the side, studying her. “Why the cast?”
“It feels like armor,” she admitted.
“Trying to hide from me?”
Before she could tell him that no, she wasn’t trying to hide from him, he yanked her off the counter.
Her cast squeaked against the floor as he spun her, first putting her back to his front, then turning them both to face the large, low tub separate from the steaming shower. Above the tub was a massive guilt-framed mirror. Their images were reflected back from mid-calf up.
“This looks like you’re hiding from me.” Eric’s hands traced down her body, pressing her sweater hard against her flesh. “Covered from neck to toe.”
She wanted, desperately, to submit, but she couldn’t simply give in. It wasn’t who she was.
“Maybe I was cold.”
“If you’d stayed in bed where you should have been, you wouldn’t have been cold.”
“You may enjoy napping in the middle of the day, but I don’t.”
“I needed rest because I haven’t been able to sleep. I thought I lost the love of my life.”
Nikolett softened, leaning back into him. “The love of your life?”
“Yes.” His gaze met hers in the mirror. “One of the things I had to work through in therapy was the fact that I love you more than I ever loved either of my wives.”
Nikolett’s lips parted in shock, but he didn’t give her time to focus on that because a second later, he’d unbuttoned her pants and shoved them down to her knees.
Then he released her and stepped back, circling around to sit on the edge of the tub, so she was looking at him and her own reflection.
“Take off the sweater.”
Slowly, she obeyed, pulling it off while being careful of her balance, given her pants were trapped at her knees. He certainly liked using her own clothing against her.
Beneath the sweater, she wore a simple taupe bralette and black underwear.
Eric cocked his head to the side. “Why are you wearing underwear?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because when you’re alone with me, you wear nothing under your clothes.”
Nikolett swallowed hard.
“I’d like to say I’ll keep you naked, but that can get cold.”
She mustered some bravado. It wouldn’t do to make this easy for him. “And you decide what I am and am not allowed to wear?”
“When we’re alone. Yes.”
She looked at him, saw the gleam in his eyes that said this was half real, half a game.
“Strip,” he commanded.
His voice was just a bit deeper, just a bit rougher than normal. That was enough to make her panties wet.
Nikolett looked down at her pants and the cast. “This isn’t ideal.”
“You mean you’re going to have trouble getting undressed by yourself?” He raised his hands, palms up. “Then ask for help.”
She grimaced.
“I know you don’t want to. I know you will only ask for help when it’s the logical thing to do.”
“Is there something wrong with that?”
“When it comes to us, yes. You will ask me for help not just when you need help but when you want it.”
“And what if I don’t want your help.” Nikolett bent, working the top closure of the cast. She tried to bend all the way to get the second one, but in one bare foot she was too off-balance and had to jerk upright before she toppled forward.
She expected to see Eric on his feet hovering, waiting to catch her. Instead, he was still casually seated on the edge of the tub, arms crossed over his bare chest. The towel had fallen partially open, exposing most of one thickly muscled thigh.
She could do this on her own—pull up her pants, walk back to the counter. Sit on it, put her foot up so she could easily reach the other clasps.
Or she could ask for help.
“Eric?”
“Yes, Nikki?”
“Would you please help me?”
He only nodded, no gloating, then crouched at her feet to undo the cast. He eased it off, then helped her step out of her pants.
Standing before him in the simple, everyday underwear, she wasn’t nearly as confident as she had been when dressed in matching lace.
“If you don’t take off those panties in the next thirty seconds, they’re going in your mouth as a gag.”
Nikolett stared at him, shocked and aroused. Eric arched a brow.
She scrambled to take her panties off, not wanting to be gagged. Then she took off the bra, throwing it to the side.
They stared at one another in silence for a moment before she reached up and undid her bun, tossing the hair tie and handful of hairpins onto the counter.
“Good girl.” He moved to stand behind her, taller and wider, making her feel delicate rather than small. Steam from the running shower billowed around them, giving the moment an almost-ethereal air. She watched him watch her.
“Why are you being punished?”
“Because I need it,” she answered without having to think.
“Nikki. My Nikki.” He leaned down, face in her hair, and inhaled. “I will always give you what you need when it comes to this.” He inhaled again, then looked up, meeting her gaze in the mirror. “I knew it was you.”
“When?”
“This morning. Before they took the bag off my head. I could smell you.”
Before she could worry about personal hygiene, he added, “I don’t know if it’s your shampoo or perfume, but I know that smell. I knew it was you.”
“That’s why you were smiling and didn’t look surprised.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, realizing she hadn’t apologized, “for having them kidnap you.”
“Don’t be. I’m not planning to apologize for what I’m about to do to you.” His hand slid up into her hair, for now just massaging her scalp. “Anything I need to know?”
“Please don’t slap me,” she whispered.
He froze.
“My face, I mean. Don’t slap my face. No belts or switches.” She didn’t think punches or kicks were used in these kinds of bedroom games, so she didn’t mention them.
For a moment, she thought she’d killed the mood by effectively admitting to being abused, but Eric only nodded.
Standing behind her, he wrapped one arm around her, hand cupping her breast. “You want absolution for the crime of letting someone else touch what’s mine.” His other hand cupped her jaw, thumb stretched to rest on her lower lip.
“That’s not—” she started.
“If you let anyone touch what’s mine again, I’m afraid I’ll have to punish you.”
Some part of her was objecting. Pointing out that they shouldn’t even play with the idea they belonged only to one another.
Nikolett reached back, and with one yank, had his towel on the floor. In the next second, her hand was wrapped around his cock.
“The same rule applies to you.” She squeezed gently, feeling him harden from semi-erect to fully erect in her hand, the head of his cock against one ass cheek.
His eyes were half closed as he enjoyed her touch.
“You let someone else kiss you.”
“I didn’t just let him kiss me. I kissed him,” she countered. “I think I even tried to get him to touch my pussy.”
Eric’s eyes glittered with fire and possession. “Then I better remind you who you belong to.”
A second later, his hand was in her hair, and he was dragging her down to her knees. He’d turned so they were side-on the mirror, and she could see their reflections out of the corner of her eye.
“Open your mouth.”
She obeyed, keeping her mouth open as he worked himself with the hand not in her hair.
“Tongue out.”
He tapped the head of his cock against her extended tongue, and she felt the faintest taste of salty pre-come.
“You’re going to take my cock in your mouth. Tap my leg if you need a break, but I will make you take more than is comfortable.”
A shiver of pure submission skipped down her back. She nodded, mouth still open. His cock bobbing up and down as her tongue slid against the underside of the head.
Eric adjusted his grip, gathering her hair into a tail at the back of her head and holding it there with his fist.
Then he thrust into her mouth, cock passing over her tongue to bump the back of her throat. She gagged, but he kept going, filling her throat until she felt the girth of him opening her the way he’d opened her pussy.
Her eyes watered and she gripped his thighs, nails digging in.
“Tap if you need a break,” he commanded.
She squeezed his thighs indicating she heard, then took in great gulps of air as he pulled back until the head of his cock was at the front of her mouth.
She looked up at him. No longer a god but some merciless warlord, and her the spoils of war. His to use and abuse as it pleased him.
He thrust in again, past her gag reflex until he was in her throat. She felt like she was choking. She was choking. She couldn’t breathe; tears started to leak from her eyes.
He pulled back.
She whimpered a little, but then squeezed his thighs to let him know she was okay. That she needed to be used this way.
Again and again, he thrust in deep, holding himself at the apex of the thrust for just a moment, before pulling back.