Chapter 14 Damon
She's still pressed against the wall where I left her, looking at me like she's not sure whether to run or stay.
"You said you wanted to know what it means to belong to someone like me," I say.
"I did."
"Then come here."
She hesitates, then steps away from the wall. When she's close enough to touch, I reach out and trace my fingers along her face. She leans into the touch despite herself.
"First lesson," I say. "When I tell you to come here, you come. No hesitation."
"And if I don't want to?"
"Then you tell me. But you don't play games about it. No maybe, no hesitation, no making me guess. Yes or no. Simple."
She nods slowly. "Okay."
"Good girl." The praise makes her flush, and I file that reaction away for later. "Second lesson. I take care of what's mine."
"What does that mean?"
"It means you're sore, and I'm going to fix that."
"How?"
"Hot water. Slow hands. Things you should have had last night if I'd known what I was dealing with."
I take her hand and lead her toward the bathroom. She follows without resistance, though I can feel the tension in her fingers.
The bathroom is all marble and glass, with a shower that's big enough for four people. I turn on the water, adjusting the temperature until it's just shy of too hot.
"Take off your clothes," I tell her.
"Damon—"
"You want to learn what belonging to me means? This is part of it. I take care of you. All of you."
She stares at me, then slowly pulls her shirt over her head. Her shorts follow, and then she's standing there in her underwear, arms crossed like she's trying to hide from me.
"All of it," I say.
"You too."
The demand surprises me. Most women I've been with are happy to let me stay in control, let me set the pace. But Viviana isn't most women, and something about her refusal to be completely passive turns me on more than it should.
I drop the towel.
Her eyes widen slightly as she takes in my body, and I see the heat building in her gaze.
She reaches behind her back to unhook her bra, and I watch as she reveals herself to me slowly. She's breathtaking, all soft curves and smooth skin, exactly the kind of woman who could make a man forget everything else that matters.
The kind of woman who could get me killed if anyone knew what I was thinking about her.
And doing.
"Come here," I say, stepping into the shower.
She follows, and when the hot water hits her skin, she makes a small sound of pleasure that goes straight to my cock. I reach for the soap, working up a lather in my hands.
"Turn around."
"Why?"
"Because I said so."
She turns, presenting me with the long line of her back, and I start washing her slowly. My soapy hands move over her shoulders, down her spine, learning every curve and hollow.
"This is nice," she says softly.
"It's not supposed to be nice. It's supposed to be necessary."
"Why?"
"Because you're mine now, and I always take care of what's mine."
My hands move lower, over the curve of her ass, and she tenses slightly.
"Relax," I murmur against her ear. "I'm not going to hurt you."
"I know. It's... this is new for me."
"Having someone wash you?"
"Touch me like they own me."
"I do own you. Don’t forget that."
The words slip out before I can stop them, more honest than I intended to be. But instead of pulling away, she leans back against me.
"Do you really believe that?" she asks.
I think about the question. Do I believe I own her? Or do I want to?
"What do you think? Do you doubt me?"
"I think you're used to getting what you want."
"I am."
"And you want me."
"Obviously, I do. The question is why you want me back."
She's quiet for a moment. "Because I need to know if this is about me, or if I'm just convenient."
I turn her around to face me, and the vulnerability in her eyes causes me to pause. She's asking me to be honest with her, to give her something real instead of just possession and control.
"You really want the truth?" I ask.
"Yes."
"The truth is, I've been with a lot of women. Pretty women, experienced women, women who knew exactly what they were doing and what they wanted from me. And none of them made me feel like I was losing my fucking mind."
"Is that good or bad?"
"I haven't decided yet."
I continue washing her, my hands moving over her breasts, her stomach, between her legs. She gasps when I touch her there, still sensitive from last night.
"Sore?" I ask.
"A little."
"I'll be more careful next time. Take it slower."
"Will there be a next time?"
I know the answer to that before I speak. After one sweet taste of her, there’s no way I’m walking away.
"There'll be a lot of next times. You're not going anywhere, and neither am I."
I reach for the shampoo, working it through her long dark hair. She closes her eyes and leans into my touch, and something about the trust in that gesture gets to me.
"Can I ask you something?" she says. "Have you ever done this before? Taking care of someone like this?"
I think about it. Have I ever washed a woman's hair? Taken the time to make sure she was comfortable, that I hadn't hurt her?
"No," I admit.
"Why me?"
"Because you're different."
"How?"
"You're mine."
"That's not a real answer."
"It's the only answer you're getting."
I rinse the shampoo from her hair, my fingers gentle against her scalp. She makes that little sound of pleasure again, and my body responds immediately.
"Damon?"
"What?"
"I can feel how much you want me."
She's right. My cock is hard against her hip, and there's no way she can miss it. But I'm not going to apologize for wanting her.
"I want you to always know how much I want you. Because it's the truth. Because I'm tired of pretending otherwise."
She turns in my arms, pressing her body against mine, and I have to grit my teeth to keep from taking her right there against the shower wall.
"Viviana,” I warn. "You're playing with fire."
"Maybe I like getting burned."
She reaches between us, wrapping her hand around my cock.
"Is this okay?" she asks timidly.
The warm water cascades over her skin, mingling with the droplets already clinging to her. I pull her close, my hands resting on her hips.
"Have you ever done this before?" I ask.
She shakes her head. "No. I've never... touched a man like this. Show me how you like to be touched.”
“You want to learn how to please me?” I ask.
She nods. “Yes, please.”
The combination of innocence and boldness nearly undoes me.
"Then I'll teach you. I'll show you exactly what I like."
I take her hand, guiding it to my cock, already hard and straining against her palm. She gasps at the feel of me, the velvety softness over the steel-hard length. I cover her hand with mine, showing her how to grip me, how to move her hand up and down my shaft.
"Like this," I murmur. "Firm but gentle. Not too fast, not too slow."
She nods as she mimics my movements, her hand sliding over my length. I groan, my head falling back, my eyes closing.
"Fuck," I growl, my hips moving in time with her strokes. "Just like that. You're a natural."
Emboldened by my words, she experiments, varying her pressure, her speed, watching my face for reactions. My breathing grows ragged, my body tensing, and I know she's doing something right.
"Fuck, Viviana," I groan, my hand covering hers, guiding her movements. "You're driving me crazy. I've never felt anything like this."
She looks up at me, her eyes wide with wonder. "Really?"
I nod. "Really. You're so innocent, so pure, and yet you're touching me like you own me. It's intoxicating."
I move her hand faster, showing her the rhythm I like, the pressure that makes me lose control. I swell in her hand, my body tensing, and I know I'm close.
“Is this good?” she whispers. “Am I doing it right?”
“Fuck, yes.”
With a final, firm stroke, I come, my body shuddering, my cock pulsing in her hand. I groan her name, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure.
As I come down from my high, I pull her close, my arms wrapping around her, my lips capturing hers in a deep, possessive kiss while the water rains down on us both. She melts into me, her body molding to mine.
“Was that okay?” she asks hesitantly, her fingers tracing patterns on my skin.
In that moment, I realize something the dynamics has changed between us.
I wrap my hands in her hair and pull her head back to look into her eyes. “Yes, you were a very good girl.”