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At her touch, Josh shut his eyelids, clenched them into tight folds of skin. At her words, his fingers became fists on his knees, but he nodded once, a quick jerk. Tears sprang to her eyes, startling her. In all the time she had spent with him, Jonathan had never shown such an obvious desire to please, coupled with a rage to devour.
Passion. He had never given her passion. Josh was passion in human form, undiluted, protected on an island that was about sensation and the genuine substance behind it.
It was demoralizing, how the strongest woman could be reduced to insecurity in the absence of passion.
She had not realized until now how she had begun to doubt her beauty and self worth. Passion was a flower with a fragile bloom, easily collapsed by frost. It was fortunate that it also had strong roots, able to survive in darkness for lengthy periods without dying away completely. Under the heat of Josh's passion, the flower was opening.
Lauren realized she felt like a goddess, her every movement sinuous and worthy of worship. She was fascinated by the beauty of her own skin, the soft touch of her hair on her shoulder blades, the long, graceful curve of hip and thigh. She was more than worthy of desire. She was worthy of begging, of adoration.
Lauren raised her face with an incoherent murmur as Marcus brought the sprayer to her neck. She moved her face through the water, drowning the tears.
Marcus chuckled, though his eyes were intent, showing he had not missed the emotions crossing her face. He conscientiously squeaked a strand of her hair to ensure it was free of soap, and managed a light touch of her chin at the same moment. Lauren gave a slight nod. She was fine.
"Ah, the unspoken fear of all men," he voiced the thought behind his laughter, "that a woman with a hot bath and a good shower head will have no use for a man. "
Lauren smiled. "And a woman's greatest fear is that the cable company and La-Z-Boy will create the combination of channels and recliner options that will render her unnecessary. "
"You mean they haven't already?"
Lauren snorted and spla
shed him with water. "I'm ready to get out of here. Marcus, will you bring me a towel?"
She rose, water pouring off of her, and stepped out of the tub, one hand braced on Josh's shoulder as Marcus went to comply. Josh's gaze stayed on her feet. She knew his eyes opened as she rose. Even looking at the floor, he would have enough of a view just above the rim of the tub to see a quick slideshow of wet breasts, navel, hips, and water gleaming off the ends of the neatly trimmed triangle of soft downy hair between her thighs. His lips parted, his tongue touching them, and it was easy to imagine him sucking every drop of water away. The image was so strong; it tightened the coil of longing in her body at each vital point and weakened her knees so her grip on his shoulder increased for balance. His muscles shifted beneath her touch and she blocked the sudden desire to lean down and press her lips to the bump of shoulder blade. She thought if she did, she might wind her arms around him and never let go.
She wrapped the towel around her and hobbled over to the sink. "I think I'll just get ready for bed now, if you guys want to go do the same," she managed, avoiding her own gaze in the mirror. She caught Marcus's nod in the corner of her eye. He shifted past her and touched Josh's elbow. Lauren raised her gaze to the mirror as Josh rose. He gave her a long look. She could not summon a smile to lessen the seriousness of his expression, so she just stared back at him until Marcus touched him again and he turned away, preceding his friend out the doorway. Marcus turned in the frame, pressed his own fingers briefly to his lips and sent the gesture to her, gentle approval in his gaze.
She wasn't sure if it was merited. A Mistress took away the places for a submissive to retreat, made him vulnerable to her by patient, tender eradication of all emotional shields, until there was nowhere he could hide from her. It worked hand in hand with proving to the sub that he could trust his Mistress at the very deepest level, making those protections unnecessary.
Jonathan had wanted a Mistress who would treat the "breakdown" process like an amused predator cutting off a rabbit's every path of escape. Perhaps if she had loved him better, she would have been willing to go against her own nature and provide him what he wanted. No, even then, she could not have done it. It just wasn't in her to be vicious. That wasn't the kind of Mistress she was, and for the process to work right, the Dom had to let go of her shields as well, perversely be as open and exposed to the sub as she demanded he be to her. She hadn't been the right Mistress for Jonathan, the right person, the right woman.
"Go on to the guest bathroom, I'll use it after you. "
She heard Josh's footsteps retreating, and then Marcus was leaning in the doorframe, watching every shift of her expression with those brilliant green eyes. "You know," he commented. "You are very appealing, for a woman. "
"That's because you get turned on watching another Dom at work, as I do. " She pursed her lips, considered him. "I wonder if I'm being too unkind, if I shouldn't ease up a bit. I could be taking this too far, much too fast. "
He considered that, studied the ceiling, then brought his eyes back down to her face. "However cliche it sounds, my dear, you know and I know that a Master is cruel only in order to be kind. It's a very, very important rule. "
The silence drew out between them and she never let her gaze drop from his. "But I don't know him well enough. In a dungeon, there's room for mistakes. I've never moved this fast with any sub. "
"Don't you dare lose courage on me now," Marcus admonished. He stepped forward, touched her face, but his expression was one of understanding, not condescension. "I have extensive experience with many rebellious youngsters," a slight smile curved his lips. "But I know, as you do, sometimes there's an instant click. You are doing very well with Josh. If you follow your instinct, I believe there is very little you will do wrong. And I am here, just in case. "
She considered that, nodded. "Okay," she said, the one word quieting her worries, for now.
It felt good, the sense of support, but as soon as the door closed behind Marcus and Lauren faced the vision in the mirror alone, she lost some of her confidence. The dominant siren she had projected became a suffering, fragile-eyed woman with haunted features.
She had not sacrificed her whole being to Jonathan's bullshit, damn it. She ran her tongue over her teeth, picked up some of Lisette's perfumed body cream and dropped the towel. Watching herself, she spread the lotion over her breasts, rubbing it into the aureoles, over the nipples, watching them respond to her touch, already stimulated by the evening's events.
She had one or two friends with whom she was affectionate enough that occasional sex was possible, but it was mutually accepted that the emotional bond was based on friendship alone. It was something to be enjoyed, like a sport. Sports played well provided a synergistic lift when the game was in full swing, when you forgot everything but the momentum of that interaction, the playing. But you couldn't compare sex to racquetball or golf, or a good set of tennis, even under those circumstances. If anything, it was more akin to a sport that interacted with nature. Leaning back, hiking out as a sailboat surged up to ten knots close-hauled, the water bathed in the golds and reds of sunset that was more like it. You looked over at your friend and your faces reflected the shared ecstasy of that moment. That moment became part of your bond, deepened the friendship, but it was still just friendship. It was not the stripping of the soul, daring it to touch the bared soul of another.
Sex with someone who drew you down that path of vulnerability could make you believe that a never-ending love might lie at the end of it. That click Marcus was talking about, that too-intense feeling she had around Josh, a virtual stranger, was making her feet turn to ice while other parts of her exploded the thermometer. Maybe that was the problem, not the dysfunctional bullshit baggage she was carrying from Jonathan. Maybe she was just scared.
Didn't she keep telling herself she should stop thinking so much? Maybe she needed to jump off the hamster Habitrail of her mind and say fuck it. Or, fuck him, rather. Josh was a fascinating, attractive guy.
What was wrong with a fling? Never mind her adamant insistence to Maria that one night stands were not her thing, that they sucked her soul dry. It wasn't what she ultimately wanted, but maybe it would be enough for just this weekend. Dissatisfied, she picked up the brush and blow dryer and went to work on her hair. Unfortunately, the drone of the appliance did not drown out her thoughts.
Her ex-psychotherapist had used the term D/s (once Lauren had introduced her to it) in a tone that suggested the doctor thought it was a disease. It had taken awhile, but Lauren at last had regained enough of her confidence to disagree, and dump the therapist.
