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He’d been right that the suit would get a bit more flexible as the material warmed up, but it was still awkward to move. She nearly fell off the far side of the table when she tried to sit on the edge and ended up falling backward. With shocking quickness, he switched his hold to her wrists, jerking her up so she didn’t take a nasty spill onto the concrete floor.
“I feel like a…like a doll,” she said.
“How so?”
“My arms, legs, and waist don’t really bend. I’m talking about a porcelain doll, not one of those cool articulated Barbies.”
He chuckled softly, then braced an arm against her shoulders and helped her lie down on the table.
Normally when she lay down, her breasts shifted, her legs naturally fell open, and her body generally relaxed. Not this time. The suit held everything in place, giving her this odd feeling like she was standing up horizontally rather than actually lying down.
Master Bennani reached under the table. He straightened and pulled on a fluffy black mitt.
“Vampire glove?” she asked.
“No.” He sprinkled liquid out of a white bottle onto the mitt. “Buffing glove.”
Then he started to stroke her. He ran the mitt in long lines from her ankles up her legs. Across her abdomen over one breast to her shoulder, then down the arm on that same side.
If she thought the suit was shiny before, that was nothing compared to the high-shine, almost metallic gloss left in the glove’s wake.
He rubbed every inch of the front of her body.
She couldn’t feel it.
The suit insulated her from the feeling of that soft-looking mitt, and he wasn’t applying enough pressure for her to feel the weight of his hand. It was like she was numb, and the sensation was enough to have her breath coming hard and fast.
“Josslyn.” He braced his hands by her shoulders and leaned over her. “Your breathing hard. Hot?”
“I can’t feel you,” she whispered. “I can’t feel your touch.”
“Of course you can’t,” he said simply.
“But I want to.”
Ilias raised a brow. “And is this about what you want?”
She closed her eyes.
“No, don’t close your eyes. Look at me. I asked you a question. Is this about what you want?”
“No, Sir.”
“What is it about?”
“The game. Rubber is one of our items.”
He lifted one shoulder. “Partly. But what is this really about?”
What you want.
The words were on the tip of her tongue. Her mouth was open, ready to speak them, but she stopped herself.
Because that wasn’t true. This wasn’t only about what he wanted. Everything she knew about him told her that.
“It’s about what we both need,” she whispered.
“That’s right.” He treated her to one of those rare smiles that made her feel like she’d accomplished something. “You need to submit, even if it means I turn you into a pretty, shiny doll.”
