Forbidden Fires

by Jodie Griffin

  Her eyes softened, and a single tear slipped over the edge, tracking down her cheek.

  “C’mere, babe,” he said softly, patting the mattress with his good hand, then holding it out for her.

  She practically flew to the bed, but she took care not to bump against his arm. Always looking out for someone else, his Delia. One of the things he’d loved most about her, and it looked like that hadn’t changed. She curled into his side, resting against his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head. “I don’t want to make the same mistakes we made last year.” His hand clenched reflexively, his fingers pinching her side.

  “Oh,” she sighed, scooting closer, goose bumps breaking out over her skin.

  “Like that, do you?” he asked, moving his hand from her back. He couldn’t be injured too badly, because her breathy moan of protest and the way she tried to climb inside him threw the switch on his arousal. He wound his hand in her hair and tugged her head back, hard enough to make her squeak, and that only added fuel to the fire in his gut. “Open for me,” he ordered, crushing his mouth against hers in a demanding kiss.

  When she did, there was nothing gentle or calm about it. Two mouths, him taking and her giving. She didn’t fight him, didn’t try to take over. He wouldn’t have let her, anyway. The fierce relief that she was safe and whole overtook him, bringing out the Dom he’d never known existed.

  He controlled the kiss, pulling back when she tried to move things faster.

  “Please, Colin. I need more.”

  “That’s not your call,” he murmured. “Is it, brat?”

  Her eyes widened at the backhanded endearment, and then went soft and yielding. “N-no, Sir.”

  Suddenly he felt much, much better. Clearer head, and what pain? The only ache he felt right now was in his cock, and that was a good ache. He couldn’t get too gymnastic with his broken arm, but he needed Delia. Wanted to be inside her, touching her, feeling the breath in her lungs and the beat of her heart.

  Affirmation of life.

  This time, he kissed her sweetly, sipping from her lips. “Good girl.”

  A tiny, desperate cry came from her mouth, fanning the flames of need. He released her hair and broke the kiss. “Up. Over by the mirror. I want you to face it and take off your clothes.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She stood and walked to the mirror, sniffing. “God, I showered and I still smell smoky.”

  He caught her eye in the mirror and grinned at the break in her role as sub. “That you do.” He laughed when she glared at him. “No big deal, babe. You’re going to get naked, then I’m going to get naked, and then we can both get showers.”

  “You can’t get that cast wet,” she warned, meeting his eyes fully. He loved how she was completely in control and in no way, shape or form submissive when it came to work and giving him hell. She saved that secret part of herself for sex, and wasn’t that a huge turn-on?

  “That’s why you’re going to help me. Think of it as a modified sponge bath.”

  Her eyes lit up, dipping to the floor. “Yes, Sir.”

  “But first, take off the shirt.”

  She pulled one of his old fire marshal T-shirts, one he’d thought he’d lost at the gym last year, over her head.

  When her naked ass came into view, he shuddered. “Jesus. You’re not wearing panties.”

  Her face turned pink. “They’re in your pocket, remember? I confronted a crazy woman barefoot and commando. I dragged you out of a burning building, commando. And I spent three hours at the hospital waiting for you, commando.”

  He blinked. “Why didn’t you put any on when we got here?”

  She smiled serenely. “Because you ordered me not to wear them the rest of the weekend, Sir.”

  He thought his heart—and his cock—would burst. “You are something else. Turn around so I can see you.”

  She stood there with a tiny, satisfied smile on her face, leaving her hands loose at her sides, waiting, just waiting. For him to tell her what to do next, he realized. His dick throbbed.

  “My turn,” he said thickly, pointing at his slacks. “Come here and help me with these.”

  She did just that, her movements almost clinical as she adjusted the sling to take off his shirt. She only faltered once helping him get undressed, her hand hovering over the button and zipper in his pants, and then he was naked.

  And hotly, heavily aroused.

  He pushed himself off the bed, carefully, and took a moment to be sure he had his feet under him.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, worry in her beautiful, expressive eyes. “Stay there and I’ll bring a washcloth.”

  “Just making sure I don’t face-plant in your carpet. That would ruin the mood.” He took a tentative step, then another and another until he felt steady. “Nope, I’m good.”

  She walked beside him to the bathroom, and then waited, shifting from foot to foot. “What now?”

  He dropped gingerly onto the closed toilet. “You get a shower. I watch as you wash and do whatever else I tell you to do. In you go, brat.”

  She turned on the shower and waited for it to warm up. “I’m not going in a cold shower.”

  His eyebrow arched. “Is that a limit like McConnell talked about?”

  “Hell, yes. A hard one.”

  He laughed. “So noted.”

  She reached in and felt the water, then climbed in, leaving the curtain most of the way open so he could see her. When she tipped her face up into the water, she moaned. “This feels so good.”

  Shit, he wasn’t going to get that for at least six weeks. The last time he’d broken his arm, he’d missed a full, whole-body-under-the-water shower almost as much as he’d missed Delia. Not quite, but almost. “Oh, sure. Rub it in.”

  She picked up the soap and washed her face, then did the whole shampoo and conditioner thing. As she washed herself, he was mesmerized by the suds sluicing down her body, sliding into dark crevices where he wanted his hands or his mouth or his dick. He stroked himself slowly, not wanting to rush this.

  He looked up at the showerhead. Yeah, he’d remembered that correctly. “Hey, brat.”

  She looked over at him, wiping her face with a washcloth. Her eyes drifted down toward his still-moving hand. “Yes, Sir?” she asked, her voice husky.

  “Lean against the wall.”

  She hesitated for longer than a heartbeat, so he used the tone he’d heard Gabe McConnell use, the stern one that seemed to get her all quivery and wet and wanting. “Now, Delia. Feet wide. And hands behind your head.”

  She moved into place quickly, her pulse pounding furiously in her neck. Perfect.

  “Don’t move.” He stood and came closer to the shower. “Don’t speak, unless it’s to use your safe word. Don’t do anything but wait for my next command.”

  “You’re going to get that cast wet,” she warned, breaking the rule he’d just laid out for her.

  He lifted a towel with his left hand and flicked it into the shower, catching her just at the crease of bare mound and thigh. He’d had good aim with the towel flick in high school. Who’d have thought he’d use it as an adult?

  She gasped, bending slightly. “God, Colin.”

  He did it again, snapping it against the other side. “I appreciate the concern, but I said no talking. And no moving.”

  Her whole body was quivering and she pressed her lips together, holding back words he could practically hear her shouting at him. The fire in her eyes was inferno hot. She loved this, loved giving herself over to him. No doubt in his mind.

  What a fucking rush.

  He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his cast to protect it from any back spray from the shower. He wasn’t going in, not right now, anyway. For that, he’d wrap it in a plastic bag. No, for now, he just needed to get a little bit closer.

  “You’re still soapy,” he murmured, pulling the shower massager out of its holder. “I can fix that.” He fumbled it and the spray washed over her left breast, across her stomach, barely glancing her
mound.

  Her nipples beaded and she let out a tiny, almost inaudible whimper.

  He got a better hold on the handle and pointed it toward the floor. He knew where she expected him to direct it, where she wanted him to direct it, and he’d get there. Just not yet.

  He started at her calves, taking his time, moving the stream up to midthigh, then back down again to her feet. Some bruises were already coming out on her legs, and she had a handful of small nicks on her feet, but otherwise, she was unharmed from the fire. Thank God for that.

  He moved the spray to her torso and arms, avoiding all contact with her breasts. She was breathing hard, her chest heaving, and she had her lip clenched between her teeth.

  He played that way for a while, watching her get wound tighter and tighter, and then he aimed the water between her breasts, letting it flow down her sternum, across her belly. A stream of water trickled between her thighs, but then he moved the spray across her body, over her left breast and then her right one. A hiss escaped from between her lips, but otherwise, she followed directions.

  And he wanted to make her break the rules. Wanted to be able to punish her with his hand on her ass.

  He moved the water in circles over one breast, making sure that some of the stinging spray landed directly on her nipple. She flinched and he knew he had the right spot, so of course, he stopped.

  She thunked her head back against the wall and her entire body trembled.

  When he’d tortured her just as equally on the other side, when she was unable to hold back her frustrated moan, he stopped, directing the water at the floor of the tub.

  His dick was hard as steel, this teasing as much a torment for him as for her. Well, maybe not quite as much, but the freedom to abuse her so erotically with her permission was the most potent aphrodisiac ever.

  “Turn around. Cross your arms and lean your head against them on the wall,” he said thickly. “And feet spread again.”

  When she was in position, he started with her legs again, coming close but never touching the swollen folds between them. Then up to her head, where he let the water run down her neck and over her shoulders. Finally, he allowed some of the water to trickle between the cleft in her cheeks and he was rewarded with seeing her muscles bunch and clench.

  “How are you doing, brat?” he asked softly. When she didn’t answer, he chuckled. “Good girl, but I really want to know. You can answer this.”

  “You’re killing me, Sir.”

  “Good.” Satisfaction filled his soul. “Back to no talking, unless I ask you a direct question or you want to use your safe word. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Step back from the wall and bend over. Put your hands on the side of the tub.”

  She looked over her shoulder as she backed up, and the pure need in her eyes, the blinding arousal, nearly did him in.

  “Jesus, Delia. I am never letting you go again. I was a fucking idiot.” He cleared his suddenly tight throat. “You’re mine, now and always.”

  She blinked, and he didn’t think she was blinking away water from the shower. “You’re mine too. I love you, Colin.”

  He was going to give her a free pass on that one, because those words filled every single needy space in his heart. “I love you too.” He grinned wickedly. “Now, bend over like a good girl, and maybe I’ll let you come.”

  She turned back to the wall, but not before he saw a matching grin on her face. She took her time bending over, wiggling her ass. Being the brat he’d nicknamed her. He loved it. He wouldn’t want her totally compliant, not without some fight. The fight made the submission sweeter.

  He’d bet she was expecting him to go the torture route again, but he liked keeping her off balance. He aimed the spray directly between her spread thighs, zeroing right in on the sweetest part of her.

  “Oh, God. Colin!”

  He would’ve loved to smack her ass for that, but since he only had one hand to use and it was holding the shower massage, he leaned over and bit her cheek.

  She cried out again, her whole body shaking as she trembled on the verge of orgasm.

  “No coming,” he warned, moving the spray back and forth as if the massager was a giant tongue, licking her from anus to clit. “Reach behind you and hold your cheeks open for me, brat. If you feel unsteady, lean your head against the wall.”

  She looked back at him again, her face red. Whether it was from being bent over or from embarrassment, he didn’t know. He didn’t care. She wasn’t using her safe word, and he wanted this. She wanted it too, if the way she bit her lip was any indication.

  “Pull them open so I can see all of you. I want to see what’s mine.”

  She did it, using the wall as counterbalance, and he stared at the rosette of her anus, so pretty and tight and waiting for a kiss. He set the massager down on the floor so it was spraying up, directly against her swollen core. This freed up his hand and it also made her legs tremble and gave her goose bumps. Tipping the body wash over, he collected some in his palm.

  He rubbed the gel against her back, creating suds, which he drew down into the crevice she held open for his pleasure. He pressed lightly against her anus, and she moaned. “Does that feel good, brat?”

  “Y-yes, Sir.”

  He dipped his slick finger inside and when she didn’t call for a stop, he added a second finger next to the first, stroking the stretched edge lightly with his fingertip.

  She shuddered.

  “Doing okay?”

  “Y-yes, Sir.”

  Her voice was low, throaty, dick-hardening. He didn’t think it could get harder, but it did. “Good girl.”

  A few minutes more finger play and water tormenting her sensitive tissues had her shaking so hard he was sure she’d come, but he didn’t want that. Not without her begging. “Do you want to come, brat?”

  “Please, Sir!”

  “You say that so prettily, but I don’t think you want it enough. Maybe I’ll make you wait.” The moan that tore from her throat shredded at his control.

  “Please, Sir. Oh, please, please, please may I come?” Her fingers dug into her ass and he could see her holding on to the last of her sanity.

  He twisted his fingers inside her anus once, twice, then thrust deep. “Come for me, sweetheart. Let go.”

  She came with a long wail, arching so violently she dislodged his fingers. He picked up the massager, rinsing the soap off her body, then directed the water up against her clit. She shuddered once more, then went limp against the wall, breathing hard, the harsh sounds loud in the intimate, steam-filled room.

  He turned the water off and grabbed a towel, rubbing it over her body.

  “Oh, God, please stop. My skin is so sensitive I can’t take it.”

  He laughed evilly. “Using your safe word?”

  She groaned. “No, Sir.”

  “Then I want to play some more.” He continued to drag the towel over her body, ignoring the obvious parts, until she was mostly dry. “Step out of the tub.”

  * * *

  Delia climbed over the edge of the tub on shaking legs, using Colin’s good shoulder for balance. She was as wobbly as a new colt, and felt as fragile as one too. Physically, and emotionally. He’d wrung every ounce of submission out of her, and it had taken will she never knew she had to keep from coming before he’d given his permission.

  “Hands by your sides.”

  He sat back down on the closed toilet and blotted the water from her breasts, rubbing the rough terry across her swollen nipples. When he finished with one, he moved the towel to the other, than covered her breast with his mouth, tonguing her until her hands clenched in fists against her thighs. He dropped the towel to her bare mound and drew the cloth back and forth across her still-sensitive lips and clit, then latched his mouth on to her other breast.

  Jesus.

  The rasp of the towel over her most private parts quickly brought her to the edge of insanity again and she clenched her muscles, fightin
g not to go over without leave to do so.

  God, she loved Colin so much. She’d thought about this kind of sexual relationship for so long but hadn’t ever imagined she could really have it. To have it with the only man she’d truly loved was like the answer to a kinky prayer.

  When he stopped, frustrated tears slipped from her eyes, and she loved those too. She didn’t hold them back, let him see how desperate she felt. He dropped the towel, leaned forward, and nuzzled her belly button.

  “My turn. Quick wash, and no playing,” he warned. “Or it will all be over before we hit the bed, and I want to come inside you.”

  She couldn’t argue with that. “Here, sit on the edge of the tub and I’ll do your hair first.” She made quick work of it, then had him stand. She soaped up a washcloth and drew it over his body, pointedly ignoring the fact that his cock was high and hard against his stomach. The temptation to lick him, to take him in her mouth and make him lose his mind, was nearly overwhelming.

  She must’ve stared at him too long.

  “Don’t even think it, bad girl,” he said with a strangled laugh. “Just having you touch me like this is hard enough.”

  Sighing, she rinsed him off, with the washcloth near his arm, and with the handheld on the rest of him. Once the thought crossed her mind, she couldn’t help but be bad. Before he knew what she was doing, she directed the spray between his legs, the water pulsing over his cock and balls.

  “Jesus,” he muttered on a groan, grabbing the sprayer from her hand. “Who’s in charge here?” He slammed the water off and hung the massager back up in its hook.

  She couldn’t hide the laughter bubbling up inside her, so she dipped her head. “You are, Sir.”

  “Brat.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  She helped him dry off, and hand in hand they walked to the bedroom.

  Colin lay down on his back in the middle of the bed, pulling a pillow under his head. “Come here, Delia,” he said, holding out his hand.

  She climbed up onto the bed and sat on her knees, palms up and eyes down, waiting for his directions.

  It was quiet for a long moment, and then Colin’s hand tangled in her wet hair. “Come on top of me, sweetheart. Take me inside you.”