Chapter 10
Storm
I turned the water to scalding and stood under it until my skin burned, but it didn’t wash away the feel of his arm locked around my torso, or the way he’d pulled me back so fast it’d pushed all the air out of my lungs.
The memory of his body pressed tight against mine while he kicked us away kept looping — hard muscle, controlled strength, the way he’d shifted me behind him without even a tiny hesitation.
My nipples tightened under the spray, one of my body’s many reactions to the memories of his hands on me, handling me. So easily controlling me.
Part of me wanted to be offended that he’d put his body at risk to save mine, but I couldn’t find it in me to be upset. I was relieved, and I didn’t especially like what that said about me, but it was the truth.
Also, it made me want to jump him even more, which wasn’t helpful. Neither was the memory of his hard, muscled body pressed against mine while he kicked us backward, or the way he’d held me after — tight enough to tow me away but loose enough I could breathe.
And then those few seconds of devastating eye contact, our faces only inches away from each other before he’d pushed me away. Or maybe he’d pushed away from me. In the water, I’m not sure you can tell one from another.
I washed and conditioned my hair, dried it, and was still horny as fuck. No way was I going to get to sleep like this, so I grabbed my vibrator from my suitcase and went to bed naked.
His bedroom was right fucking beside mine, and the vibrator sounded way too loud when I flicked it on, so I turned it off, found the remote, and turned the television on.
The recommendations weren’t great, so I turned a music station on and then flicked the vibrator to medium and stroked all around my clit, preparing it for what was to come before I went at it directly.
Sometimes, that’s enough, but it wasn’t tonight.
I replayed his arm around me in the water, the two of us kicking, our bodies pressed together — and then the way he’d looked at me in the water — faces inches apart, his hand still at my waist, holding me up like it cost him nothing.
I fantasized about him taking control, closing the distance, and his mouth was suddenly on mine, taking me and owning me while we floated, while one of his hands stayed banded across my back and the other slid lower.
I flipped the switch to high and shoved the vibrator inside while imagining it was his fingers, and came almost immediately, rolling to my side with my thighs locked around my wrist while my hips pumped, the vibe humming deep while I curled my lips in and sealed them closed to stay quiet.
The release rolled through me in long, shaking waves, but the second it eased I was already restless again, already needing more while I lay panting on top of the sheets.
The second orgasm took longer. I had to work harder for it, fucking myself slow and steady with the vibe while I remembered his calm, annoyingly patient voice the day before demanding, “Again.” How I’d had to keep wiping the glass down, keep repeating the job until he was satisfied, and every time he’d said it I’d felt the same hot, liquid clench between my legs.
I have no idea how I ended up on my back again, my legs spread wide while I timed the thrusts to that single word, my hips lifting off the bed in desperation while I chased a release from the torment of his voice, his gaze, his damned authority.
His absolute assumption that I would unquestionably obey had gone straight through me and was still lodged in my entire lower torso now, hours later, while I fucked myself into a frenzy and tried not to make a sound.
When I finally came this time, I rolled to my stomach and pressed my face into the pillow, humping the bed with the vibe wedged inside and my fingers still working my clit.
But sometimes an orgasm just works you up more instead of providing release, and there was no way I was going to manage sleep in this state.
So I let a new fantasy build slowly this time, and I moved the vibe just as leisurely, teasing myself while I imagined him finding a watermark on the shower door. A single drop I’d missed, and it’d dried to leave a mark.
I imagined his eyes going flat. Disappointed. “How, exactly,” he’d ask with that voice made of gravel, “does one wipe it down, then use glass cleaner, then polish it with a microfiber cloth, and still miss a drop?”
But when I moved to try to fix it, he’d stop me and demand I admit I’d taken shortcuts.
And of course I’d have to be honest and admit, “I took shortcuts, Sir. I skipped the glass cleaner and went straight to the final cloth polishing,” while he stood over me without anger, just a look that demanded compliance — and then a cane would magically be in his hands as if it belonged there, while that calm fucking voice casually ordered me to strip, and then, “Bend over and brace your hands around the damned mark.”
I’d follow his orders, but he’d say, “Bend your arms. Eyes two inches from that godawful watermark, so it fills your vision.”
There’d be no way to look away, no way to make it so my ass wasn’t higher than my head and fucking vulnerable.
I hate pain, but the idea of it is the best aphrodisiac in the world, so I imagined the first stripe of the cane landing across the backs of my thighs in a sharp explosion of agony while that calm, deep voice told me shortcuts will always be punished in this house, and the cane struck again and again.
I fucked myself harder with the vibrator, fingers rubbing fast circles on and around my clit while the fantasy kept going — his voice steady, the cruel cane deliberate, my body shaking while desperately trying to hold the position he’d ordered me into.
Eventually, I came so hard I couldn’t breathe, the orgasm dragging on in long, helpless pulses while I tried not to make any sounds that might carry through the wall, but I worried my heavy breathing might while I gasped around my racing heart and fought to bring more oxygen into my lungs.
When it finally subsided, I lay in the center of the bed, vibrator turned off and still in my hand, heart slamming, and entire body trembling while I stared up at the ceiling.
I needed a better outlet than this, and the frustration hit almost as hard as the orgasm had. I couldn’t do this every night, imagining him dominating me while I masturbated with the warm-blooded man of my fantasies asleep in the next room.
But there was no way I could walk into a kink club while I was hiding out from people who wanted me dead.
I was stuck here without options, but the prospect of living in the same house as the sexiest, most naturally dominant man I’d ever met while he corrected my work with all that implicit authority, making my body light up with just a measured look…
Fuck me.
The man didn’t even have to work to get me so hot-and-bothered I couldn’t see straight. Just that quiet, absolute expectation that things would be done his way was enough to make me want to go to my knees and promise obeisance.
Something had to give, but he’d already been more than clear about not starting anything fun while he was protecting me.
- - - ? - - -
Magnum
I lay with my dick grasped in my lotioned hand, slowly jacking myself while I listened to the sexy-as-fuck human woman in the room beside me get herself off once, twice, and then a third time that felt fucking devastating.
The house’s HVAC is designed to waft scents through the house, so I know, in the back of my mind, what’s going on outside my bedroom at all times, and this meant I could scent her arousal, her submission, her motherfucking surrender while she worked herself up to three damned orgasms in a twenty-minute span.
She’d had to fight for that last one, at first, but once she’d gotten into the groove it’d been like a naughty little cunt begging to be fucking punished.
And the music didn’t drown anything out. I knew when the vibrator was on her clit and when it was fucking inside of that tight little cunt. I could even hear the waves of sound when her pussy convulsed around it, the sounds ever-so-slightly lower and higher.
It was clear to me this wasn’t going to work, her with a vibrator and me with my hand, night-after-night.
We had chemistry out the wazoo, and we’d be able to focus on our task at hand a helluva lot better if we just accepted it and put it into a schedule.
It would solve another problem, too. She’d known I wasn’t telling the entire truth when she’d asked how I’d seen the snake, and I’d be able to head those questions off better from a place of earned authority.
Ignoring the attraction was causing more problems than it fixed, which meant tomorrow morning was going to go completely differently.
There are two ways to start a power exchange relationship — the safe, boring, PC way, and the completely risky but sexy-as-fuck natural way.
And my gut told me I could make the latter work with this woman who was begging me to take control. The way she’d reacted to the anal and fisting questions told me all kinds of fun play would be possible, and her reactions to orders meant she clearly wanted to submit.
So I made plans in my head, deciding on rules and times while my hand went faster and faster, until I had the basics of a plan in my mind, and I finally came so hard my balls felt emptier than they’d been in damned months.
I’m not big on all the lifestyle safety precautions, but I needed to weave us through making sure this was consensual without spoiling the illusion of it just being me taking control and using her however I want, so I went through the stages I’d need from her.
Scent would be my primary marker, but I’d be watching her face and listening to her sounds, too.
If I got even a tiny clue she wasn’t on board with it, I’d back off and have the damned conversation, but everything I’d learned about this woman told me she’d rather go into this without having to ask for it.
- - - ? - - -
Magnum
I’d debated with myself over whether her bedroom would be off-limits to me, and I’d decided against it. No place safe from my absolute rule. No refuge. No escape.
And so, when I woke the next morning, I went into her room and made enough noise to wake her upon entry.
“The rules have changed,” I told her, keeping my voice low and quiet. “Did you think the music covered the sound of the vibrator? The tiny little sexy sounds you made while you got yourself off three motherfucking times?”
I strode to her bed and breathed in her scent — mortification followed by relief. She was embarrassed I’d heard for a split second, and then happy I had. Interesting.
I pulled the sheet and blanket off her and was pleased beyond words to discover I wouldn’t need to fight with pajamas, because she was completely naked.
But it was important she didn’t see my cock until after it’d been inside her.
Most shapeshifters have normal-looking cocks, but turtles do not.
The head of mine is larger than normal and more of a deformed ball than a defined shape.
The shaft is a little thinner than the head for about two inches and then gets thick at a sharp angle, and the base of my cock is saucer-sized.
It’s why I’d asked if she’d ever been fisted, because even women who can take a fist have trouble with the last four inches of my cock.
I’ve learned from experience it’s better if they feel me inside them before they see my dick, or they sometimes go running away so I never have the chance to sink inside their heat.
And the human parts of me might be warm-blooded, but the turtle inside me still loves basking in the heat of a warm cunt or asshole.
I’d put loose shorts on to come to her, and hadn’t bothered with underwear, so I dropped the shorts and slid over the top of her all in the same motion, my weight on top of her before she knew what was happening, my legs between hers, forcing her open.
The spicy scent of her arousal came through loud and clear, but I needed her way more desperate before I sank into her, so I started with a kiss.
My mouth came down on hers, my lips forcing hers apart, and she opened to accept me with a hungry little moan. My tongue pushed past her lips and claimed her mouth while my hand slid up to claim her breast, fingers spreading wide, thumb stroking around her nipple in slow, proprietary strokes.
My hips moved of their own accord, dragging the base of my cock across her slit, rocking over it while I plundered her mouth, and my cock pulsed with every little sound she made.