Page 119 of Stolen By the Billionaire
He caught her arm as she walked by, and where his palm and fingers connected to her wrist, all her attention zoomed to those few inches of her skin.
The warmth from his hand seeped into her, and she didn’t feel caught so much as held.
Blaze lifted her chin with one finger again, and she was stretched between where he’d captured her wrist and where he suspended her jaw. He said, “Don’t touch yourself in the shower.”
But if she didn’t touch herself, how would she wash? The soap, the washrag, the—
Oh.
He meant—
Oh.
Yeah, after what he’d done to her in the garage, she wasn’t a hundred percent sure she’d ever really known how to do that to herself, anyway. “Okay.”
He stepped closer to her, the warmth of his body radiating onto her bare arms. “If you touch yourself in the shower, even a little, even just until you’re hot and needy for me, I’ll know, and I’ll punish you.”
Her skull felt floaty, and one of her knees started to tremble. “Punish me, how?”
Blaze bent at his waist, and he had to bend a long way to whisper in her ear because he was so much taller than her. “I’ll use those ropes to tie you down until you can’t move, and then I’ll shove my cock down your throat until tears run down your face.”
Little muscles in her stomach tightened. “That sounds . . . awful?”
“Yes, doesn’t it?” His warm breath brushed her shoulder. “But if you do that and make yourself come, if you feel that throbbing ecstasy by yourself, I’ll beat you with my belt. I’ll leave deep welts that will be torture when you sit in the car tomorrow all the way to New York. That orgasm is mine to give to you or withhold if you’re naughty. That is not negotiable. Do not brat too close to the sun, kitten, or you’ll get burned. Now is not the time to test my limits. Do you understand?”
She nodded.
He straightened and released her wrist, but he dragged his whole hand down her throat to her collarbones before he let his hand drop. “If you are a naughty little girl in the shower, come back into this bedroom naked, and I’ll make sure you regret it.”
Sarah picked up the duffel bag with her clothes and fled through the living room and bedroom to the bathroom.
The hotel room’s bathroom was the size of one of the bedrooms of her old farmhouse and surfaced with cold gray stone. She turned on the hot water and shucked her clothes.
The water steamed instantly, unlike at home where the water pipes took forever for the cold water to rinse out. She slid the glass door aside and stepped into the wide shower bigger than the walk-in closet her father had framed from the back of the primary bedroom.
Rubbing the herbal hotel soap filled the washcloth with suds, and then Sarah was scrubbing off the terror of the break-in the night before off her body, the stickiness under her pits and leg creases sluicing away with the flower garden-scented soap. She scoured her skin, using the white washcloth like steel wool to scrape off the fear-stink and long day of sadness and agitation.
Her skin became more sensitive as she scrubbed the scalding water and sage-green soap foam across her limbs and torso.
Her breasts became rounder as she passed the rough washcloth over them, cleaning every bit of her.
Blaze had run his hands over her like this, cupping the heavy swells.
The nubbly washcloth strayed lower, washing downward, cleaning, then touching, then arousing.
Blaze’s tongue had caressed her like this, his mouth rough on her skin when he sucked and forced the tsunami to roll up her body.
Every stroke through her folds was a caress that lifted her, making her bite her lip and hold onto the shower’s grab bar as the pleasure spiraled in her body, tightening her core.
She dropped the washrag right before she flipped over the top and braced her legs, balancing on the crest, until the energy subsided rather than ripped her apart.
Air rushed through her mouth as she panted, water streaming off her long hair around her face. Her hair looked pitch-black when soaking wet, not even her subtle hints of mahogany reflecting the light.
The tension eased without a cresting wave, and Sarah’s shoulders drooped.
She turned off the water and stepped out of the shower.
The insanely thick towel had been almost silky before she’d gotten into the shower, but now the inch-deep terrycloth felt like she was rubbing burlap over her arms and back.
