Burn Me Anthology

by Shantel Tessier

  “I’m not scared. Just nervous.”

  “Why are you nervous?”

  I want to drop my head but he won’t let me. “You want all the reasons or just one?”

  “I want everything.”

  His words fuel me to be completely honest. Tomorrow, when I think back on tonight, I’ll blame it on the heavy narcotics. “The last time I was in a bathtub, I almost died.” His face softens and he nods for me to continue. “That was also the only time anyone has ever seen me naked.” His nostrils flare and his eyes heat with possessiveness. “And I have to pee again.” He smiles.

  “I will be here with you. If there’s a fire, you’ll never feel it’s heat or breathe it’s smoke. I like that I’m the only one to ever see you naked and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hard at just the thought of seeing all of you. As for you having to pee, well…we both know the last time didn’t bother me. So there’s no reason to be nervous about that anymore.”

  He releases my chin and my gaze moves to his crotch and the large bulge there straining his jeans. When he picks me up, I can feel it against my hip and moisture gathers between my thighs.

  “Wrap your legs around my waist, baby.” He shifts me and I do as he says and rest my arms on his shoulders. “Good girl.”

  My belly flips.

  “I like that.”

  “What do you like?” he asks, divesting me of the blanket and then the robe.

  “When you say good girl.”

  “Then I’ll say it more,” he says, as if it’s just that simple.

  He sits me on the toilet and this time kneels by the tub with his back to me as he turns on the water. I relieve myself finding it not nearly as humiliating as last time.

  What about when I have to…

  No. I won’t think about that.

  He comes to kneel in front of me and removes the bandages from my feet. Then my hands. Then he’s pressing on my back and I lean forward as he makes quick work of drying me. There’s nothing suggestive in the way he touches my privates. It’s almost clinical. But there’s a tenderness to his touch that makes me feel cherished.

  With only my hospital gown separating us, I start to feel a little panicky. What if he doesn’t like what he sees? What if he laughs at how small my breasts are? Or how I don’t shave my pubic hair?

  Don’t be ridiculous, Mila. Shane would never laugh at you.

  “Look at me, sweetheart.” I do. And God he is the epitome of the perfect man. “You’re beautiful. It’ll take all of my willpower to not run my mouth over every bared inch of your body.”

  I’m still reeling when he removes the gown, picks me up and deposits me in the tub. I moan at the feel of the warm water and my nudity is forgotten. I don’t even care anymore. This feels too good.

  Using a small, plastic pitcher, he wets my hair over and over. Then he massages shampoo into my scalp. I sigh and lean into his hands. Loving the feel of him touching me. I can’t remember anyone ever washing my hair. Though if I did, I can’t imagine it ever feeling this good.

  “My sweet girl is getting sleepy.”

  My eyes flutter open and he’s moved on to my body. His big hands moving the soft sponge over every limb. Every muscle. Every joint. He doesn’t wash my hands or feet, but both are submerged beneath the water.

  “Spread your legs for me, baby.” I sober at that and inch them apart. “Little wider…That’s it…Just relax…I’m going to lift your bottom…Keep your knees open. Good girl.”

  He drags the sponge through my cheeks and it’s all I can do not to pull away. His hand on the lower part of my back elevates me so he has full access to everything. When he brings the sponge around and slides it across my sex, I jerk and let out a moan of pleasure. Blood rushes to the point of contact and something awakens inside of me. It’s so surprising, I try to pull away but he won’t let me.

  “Calm down. I’ve got you.”

  Tears prick my eyes when he makes contact with my clit again. I’m hypersensitive. The stimulation is too much. I want it, but it terrifies me. And it shames me more than anything else we’ve done.

  “Shhh…it’s okay, baby.” He lowers me back to the tub and pulls his hands away. I whimper out of both desperation and wanton humiliation.

  When I’m out of the tub, he dries my skin with a warm towel. Careful not to rub too hard but quick so I don’t catch a chill. I silently cry the entire time. I’m not sure if I’ll ever stop. Or if I’ll ever know the true reason for my tears.

  He whispers reassurances to me. Kisses my head. Brushes my hair. Dries it. Wraps my hands. My feet. Pulls a T-shirt over my head then lifts me from the counter and carries me to his bed.

  “I’m going to take a shower. I’ll leave the door open, so you call out to me if you need anything.” He tucks me in and still I cry. What is wrong with me?

  The pained look on his face at seeing my tears should be enough for me to stop them. I don’t want him upset or worrying over me. At least not any more than he already has. I almost wish he’d threaten to spank me if I didn’t stop crying. Maybe then, I could find the will to quit.

  I listen to his every move. The sound of him opening a cabinet door. Closing it. Removing his boots. The rustling of his shirt. But it’s the sound of his belt that has me clenching my thighs. The clang of metal on metal as he unbuckles it. The swoosh as he pulls it through the loops. The clatter of the buckle as he drops it to the floor.

  Would he spank me with his belt?

  The shower starts and I close my eyes. Envisioning him beneath the spray of water. Naked. His length long and hard. Thick and erect. His hand pumping up and down his shaft.

  My hand slides between my legs and I groan because I can’t even pleasure myself. Everything inside me feels like it’s coiled too tight. The tension is brutal. Punishing. Worse than the burn in my throat and the heaviness in my chest. At least I know this time what causes the fresh tears that slide from my eyes and soak into my hair—frustration.

  Shane walks out and the sight of him steals my breath. He’s shirtless. Wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung pajama pants. I can see the outline of his cock pressing against the soft fabric. I follow the trail of hair from his V to his abs that ripple his stomach. The muscles in his arms flex and tighten as he rubs the towel over his hair.

  When he looks at me, he flashes me a smile and a wink. My sex waters. I can feel my arousal on my thighs. Soaking the sheet beneath me. I’ve never had reason to be embarrassed by how wet I get with desire. Then again, I’ve never had to share a bed with a man who might notice.

  I struggle to pull my shirt down as low as possible. It’s a difficult task considering I don’t have fingers, but I manage to cover myself a little bit more and have the blankets pulled back up by the time Shane comes out.

  He saunters over to the bed and takes a seat on the edge, looking down at me thoughtfully. “You’re still crying.”

  I nod, unsure of what to say.

  “Is it because of what you felt in the bathtub? When I touched you?”

  More tears. I pull my lip between my teeth to keep from biting it.

  “There’s nothing wrong with feeling aroused, Mila. You’re lying in my bed, hurt and crying and my cock is so hard, I’d come if you touched it. I shouldn’t find pleasure in this moment, but you’re a very beautiful woman. And my body responds to you. It’s okay if you feel the same.”

  I chance a look and sure enough, his cock is hard and straining against his pants. It’s also so much bigger than I imagined.

  “Do you feel the same, Mila?” His fingers drag up my leg and swirl a pattern over my knee. Even through the thick blankets, I can feel the fire in his touch. “Do I turn you on?” He palms my thigh and I feel it in my core.

  “If I put my hand under this blanket, spread your knees and slipped my fingers between your thighs, would I find you wet?” I groan and twist my hips. More of my desire drips from my sex and coats my lips and the sheets below. “Do you want me to spread you open and touch that
pretty pussy of yours? Tell me now, baby. Don’t hold back. Ignore the shame and focus only on how good I can make you feel.”

  His words.

  His hands.

  His…mouth.

  “Yes or no, Mila. Yes and I’ll make you come so hard, you’ll shatter in my arms. No and I’ll turn out the lights and just hold you while you sleep. Either way, I want you to say it.”

  His look is so penetrating. So promising. I want him to make me feel good. To relieve all this tension inside me. But I’m not sure I can say it. Then to my surprise, I do.

  “Yes.”

  Chapter 8

  Shane

  Yes.

  The word plays in my head over and over. I knew she wanted it. Knew she needed it. But I never thought she would say it. I’m beginning to think I don’t know her at all.

  I pull back the cover and see she has my shirt that she’s wearing stretched almost to her knees. Her legs are pressed together tightly, arms at her sides as she lays stiff as a board. Goosebumps pepper her skin and she shivers. I grab the remote on the nightstand and adjust the temperature in the room. Hopefully, by the time I’m finished, she’ll be sweating.

  The smell of her arousal is strong. Sweet. Mouthwatering. I wonder if she can smell it too. I rub her ankles. Take my time massaging her calves. Her knees. She squirms beneath my touch. A lovely blush covering her neck and face. To my surprise, she doesn’t look away. Her big, brown eyes lock on mine. Full of uncertainty and something else.

  I slide my hand under the hem of her shirt and ghost my fingers up her thighs. When I try to slide my hand between them, she clamps her legs tighter and squeezes her eyes shut. I understand her embarrassment, but she wants this. She said so. And I aim to give her what she needs.

  “Open up for me, Mila.”

  She gives me a quick shake of her head, biting her lip so hard I’m sure she’s broke the skin. I move my hand and continue to draw circles on her soft flesh. Giving her a little more time to do as I say before she earns something else from me.

  “I asked if you wanted me to pleasure you and you said yes. I’m not going to let you deny yourself of something you so desperately need because you’re embarrassed. I’ve told you there’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  She whimpers but doesn’t budge.

  “Last chance. I don’t want to spank you tonight, sweetheart. But if I have to tell you again, then that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” I apply pressure with my fingertips to the crease between her legs. I’ll stop if she asks me to, but she relaxes a little and her trembling thighs part just enough for me to see the slick sheen of her arousal.

  So that’s what has her so nervous…she’s soaking wet. Even the sheets beneath her are drenched.

  “Look at me, baby.” I keep my hand still and wait as she slowly makes eye contact. “Has any man ever touched you here?”

  “No.”

  “Then you wouldn’t know that seeing you this wet…smelling your sweet essence…having it on my sheets…dripping down your thighs…is the sexiest, most erotic fucking thing a man can witness and a woman can give.”

  She moans, her back arching from the bed. “When you talk like that…I just…I can’t stop it.”

  “Don’t stop it.” For God’s sake, don’t fucking stop it. “Relax. Feel. Enjoy. Trust me when I tell you that I think you’re perfect. And that I’m a very lucky man.”

  Her reluctance lasts only a few seconds before her legs spread and the glistening lips of her pussy come into view. Something between a groan and a growl escapes the back of my throat.

  I lift her right leg, placing it over my lap so she’s fully exposed to me. My finger slides between her lips and circles her clit once. Her body bucks and I still my touch. “So responsive.” I meet her eyes. “I’m going to make you come now, baby. Be a good girl and just let go.”

  Without waiting for her reply, I dip my finger into her tight opening and rub my thumb over her clit. I’m barely a knuckle deep inside her and can feel the thin barrier of her virginity still intact. I almost come in my pants.

  She writhes and moans. Jerks and pumps her hips against me. But I don’t press inside her further. When I take her innocence, it won’t be with my finger. It’ll be my cock buried inside her. Her arms around my neck. Her legs around my waist. Those lips on my lips. Her tight cunt contracting around me as her pain morphs to pleasure.

  “S-Shane!”

  Her orgasm is powerful. She screams my name over and over. I lighten my strokes and delight in the view of her flooding my hand. My bed. Her sweet come soaking her core and dripping down the sweet cheeks of her ass.

  “That’s it, sweetheart. Good girl. Let it go.”

  The aftermath of her orgasm leaves her in a tangled mess of damp sheets and sweaty limbs. As the fog dissipates, I feel her tense. And as I expected, the tears are quick to follow when she notices the mess she’s made.

  “Shhh,” I soothe, pulling her leg from my lap and standing. “You were perfect, baby. Just like I knew you would be.” I kiss her lips. Her nose. Her birthmark. “I’ll be right back.”

  I wet a washcloth with warm water, grab a dry towel and return to find her with her legs pressed tight together and little sobs shaking her body. “None of that, now. You’re okay.” I take a seat next to her and easily pull her legs apart and clean her using the wet cloth before drying her. She mewls at my touch and I can see her arousal flowing again.

  “You are just full of surprises, Mila girl,” I tease. I instantly regret it. I’m not used to someone being as sensitive as she is. It’ll take some time on my part. And a lot of trust on hers.

  “W-what’s wrong with me?” she cries, her last word falling on a whimper.

  “Absolutely nothing.” I switch off the light, pick her up and move to the other side of the bed. She clings to me as I lay down and turn us on our side so her back is to my front—my body separating her from the large, wet spot behind me.

  “Hush now.” I kiss her hair and pull her closer. “Sleep, baby. I’m here.”

  Always.

  Chapter 9

  Mila

  I’ve never come so hard in my life.

  All the times I thought it felt good when I touched myself are nothing compared to the way he touched me.

  The humiliation of being so wet for him only made me want him more. It was confusing. Overwhelming. I’d cried so much my head and eyes hurt. Yet cradled in his arms in my post orgasmic bliss, I felt nothing but love.

  I’d been analyzing the events that happened last night as I lay awake in his embrace. One arm slung over my waist, the other behind his head, I wasn’t pinned beneath him. But I wasn’t exactly free of his hold either.

  Now, as the sun makes it way over the horizon, I can’t ignore the pressure in my bladder anymore. Shane’s deep breathing and light snores behind me proves how tired he must still be. Not wanting to wake him, I slide one leg off the bed and place my foot flat on the floor. Applying a little weight, I test the ability of my bandaged foot. With the gauze so thick, I barely feel anything at all.

  I lift Shane’s arm and sit on the side of the bed. He doesn’t stir. I smile down at his handsome face. Full of peace and free of emotion. He’d spent days taking care of me in the hospital. It would be so selfish of me to wake him since I was sure I could make it to the bathroom on my own.

  I stand slowly, feeling a pinch in my heels as I take a tentative step. When too much weight lands on a particularly sore spot on the ball of my foot, I reach out for the bedpost for support. But the bandages on my hands allow me little grip and I end up crumpling to the floor to avoid the pain in my feet.

  “Mila?!” Shane’s panicked voice is nothing compared to the terror on his face as he bounds from the bed and falls to his knees on the floor next to me. “What happened, baby? Are you alright? Did you fall out of bed?”

  Lie, Mila. Lie, lie, lie.

  “I had to pee.”

  Idiot!

  The fear in his eyes dissip
ates as they darken to anger. “You got up on your own? You tried to walk?”

  “I didn’t want to wake you. You were sleeping so good. The nurse told me you hadn’t had any rest. You’ve done so much for me already.”

  His gaze softens a little. Once again, I read his mood in his eyes. He’s not scared. Not angry. He’s disappointed in me. And it settles like a heavy weight in my belly.

  My eyes well with tears and he shakes his head. “No, ma’am. Dry it up. There’ll be plenty to cry over in due time.”

  “Shane, I’m sorry,” I say, blinking to hold back my tears so I don’t disappoint him further.

  He lets out a long breath. “You’re not sorry, Mila. Not for the right reasons.”

  I want to ask him what he means. But he scoops me up and carries me to the bathroom. He leaves me to do my business while he sorts through the supplies he’d brought from the hospital.

  When I’m finished, he returns to clean me not bothering to look at me at all. Once more I’m in his arms and he’s carrying me to the counter. He makes quick work of unwrapping my hands and feet—surveying the bottom of one foot then glaring at me. I don’t care if it is in anger. At least he’s looking at me.

  “We’ll wrap these later. The blisters need some time to breathe. If I wrap them in the state they’re in, it’ll be painful for you. Not that you don’t deserve it, but you’ll be miserable enough without the added discomfort.”

  What did he mean?

  I’m too scared to ask. I don’t want to push him. I’ve already failed him. The best thing I can do right now is keep my mouth shut. Seems every time I open it I get myself into more trouble.

  In the bedroom, he lays me down on my stomach. When I try to turn over, he stills me with a hand at the small of my back.

  “If you could stand, I’d have you in a corner. But for now, you’ll lay here and think about what you did. How you intentionally harmed yourself—“