Page 23 of His Keepsake

“My new pet is dirty. I wouldn’t want to let her up on the furniture without scrubbing her down a bit.”

“If I’m dirty, it’s because of what you did to me last night.”

“You mean what you signed up for?”

“I didn’t sign up for anything with you.” I shifted my arms higher to cover my breasts, trying to pretend it was because I was annoyed rather than shy. He was…looking. Appreciating—but not the way a man appreciated a woman he saw at a bar. More like a man admiring something he owned.

“And yet, you let me do anything I wanted last night.”

“Like you gave me a choice?”

“You didn’t put up much of a fight. I may have a bruise, but I doubt it.”

“I’m not good at self-defense. That doesn’t give you permission to do what you did.”

“Your unauthorized orgasm leads me to believe you don’t have anything to complain about.”

A bottle of shampoo and another of body wash stood on one of the fancy wicker-and-glass patio tables.

“What are you doing?” I asked again. “You’re not going to make me shower in your backyard, are you?”

“I’m not going to make you do anything except stand still.” There was something in his hand, but my brain didn’t catch up before he pulled the trigger, and I was doused with freezing water. I shrieked, and tried to block, but he just followed me, hosing me down until I was soaked and shaking with the cold. I couldn’t go far with the leash still in his hand.

“Come here,” he said, sounding impatient. “Such a little princess. It’s just water, and you’re not made of sugar.”

“It’s freezing! Why can’t I use your shower?”

“Showers are for people. A man washes his toys outside. Just be glad I didn’t decide to do this in the driveway instead. I don’t get a lot of traffic out here, but there’s a chance someone might see you from the main road. Not that you have anything to be ashamed of, even covered in goose bumps and looking like a drowned rat.”

He reeled me closer, and I fought the leash, clutched it, but I was no match for his strength. The chain hurt me when it slid across my palm. The grass was slippery under my feet, and slowly he won the battle. He soaped me up with impersonal hands, rinsed me, then shampooed my hair and rinsed that, too. I was angry at the rough treatment—insulted and frozen stiff—and yet turned on as his hand traveled over me as he sluiced me with clean water. His hand was warmer than my skin, but when he parted my pussy and forced one of his big, cold fingers inside me, I mewled with distress.

I curled forward and plucked at his wrist. He growled.

“Hand off me. Stand up.” His finger shoved painfully high and hard until I obeyed.

God, the cold against my heated core, and the impersonal way he was handling me had no business turning me on the way it did, but I was helpless to stop myself from feeling what I did.

All of my screeching and protests came to nothing. He did exactly what he wanted. When he was satisfied, I was dripping and clean, and my teeth chattered as I shook from head to toe.

He turned off the water but kept hold of the nozzle and the leash. His free hand roved over my body, raising extra goose bumps between the ones I already had. His hand drifted lower again, and I tried to jerk back, but his grip on the leash was sure, even though it was as wet as I was and had to be slippery.

“I have to make sure I rinsed you thoroughly enough.” He aimed a spray of water directly at my clit.

“Please, no more. Please stop.”

The water shut off again, but his frigid hand was still checking, his fingers probing and holding my pussy lips wider.

“We need to be thorough,” he murmured.

“Please…”

Despite how cold I was, my core was hot, and the dichotomy as he moved his finger inside me was enough to make me cry out and clutch his arm. Was I trying to push him away, or keep him close? Even I couldn’t tell.

The heel of his hand rubbed my clit as he did a thorough job of ‘checking me for more soap,’ and soon I shamed myself by humping his hand like a bitch in heat. When he worked a second frigid finger inside me, stretching me, I moaned with shameful pleasure.

Just when I thought maybe he’d let me come, he stopped and withdrew his hand.

No…no, no, no.

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