Knight (An Impossible Novel) (12 page)

The water had soaked Master.  Little glistening drops of it clung to the curling ends of his hair, dripping down his tanned neck to race in tiny rivulets down to his chest.  His sodden t-shirt was molded to his muscles like a second skin, and for the first time I could clearly see the hard, flawless lines of his body that had been obscured by his clothes.  Helplessly drawn to his perfection, I leaned into him.

He hissed in a breath when I tentatively brushed my lips against his exposed collarbone.  Emboldened by his reaction, I traced the line of it with my tongue, savoring his unique flavor that infused the water that was beaded on his skin.

He jerked away from me with a low curse.

“Don’t do that.”

The fear induced by his furious glare was tempered by his desire-roughened tone.  Still, I knew I had pushed too far.

“I’m sorry, Master,” I apologized.

But I wasn’t sorry.  I was thrilled that Master had allowed me to touch him, even if it had been cruelly brief.

His chest swelled as he heaved in several deep breaths, mastering his lust.  “It’s okay,” he said, his tone clipped.  “I know this must be confusing for you, but all I want is to take care of you.  I don’t want anything else from you.”

“Don’t you?”  I asked softly, hardly believing my daring.

His brows drew together.  “No,” he bit out.  His eyes assessed my body, clinically inspecting me.  But I didn’t fail to notice that they had shifted to a darker, steely shade.  “I think we’re done,” he declared, his voice tight as he tore his gaze from me.

He reached around me to turn off the water, careful not to touch me.  Then he opened the shower door and gestured for me to step out.  I frowned at his sudden distance, but I said nothing.

Soon,
I thought.  Master would take me soon.  And then I would be his completely, irrevocably.

As I compliantly covered my body with the towel Master offered me, I savored the taste of him that lingered on my tongue.

Chapter 10

I slept peacefully beside Master that night.  Despite his evident discomfiture with what had passed between us in the shower, he kept his promise not to leave me alone.  He had lain stiffly beside me on the bed for a long time, but he had allowed me to press my body up against his side.  I kept my eyes closed and my breathing even, but I didn’t allow myself to fall asleep until his muscles relaxed, his arm snaking around me to hold me close.  The reassuring heat of him and the calming rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my cheek kept dreams of my dark past at bay.

Although the room was windowless, I was awakened by the pale sunlight that slanted under the door and filtered into the room.  I remained perfectly still, savoring the strength of Master’s arm wrapped around my back, his large hand gripping my hip.

My eyes greedily drank in his sleeping form, openly admiring every detail of him as I was unable to do when he was awake and watching me.  He had changed out of his soaked clothes before joining me in bed, trading them for a t-shirt and sweatpants that matched my own.  I relished the way his oversized clothes engulfed my body, encasing me in his comforting scent.

Then my eyes fell on the impressive bulge that tented his sweatpants, and my pulse ratcheted up to outpace his.  He had ordered me not to touch him sexually, had said he didn’t want that from me.  But his body plainly told me what he wouldn’t admit aloud.  My mouth watered at the prospect of bringing him pleasure, of watching his handsome face as I gave him perfect ecstasy.

My fingers shook slightly as I reached for him, my concern for displeasing him with my defiance making me jittery.  Steeling my resolve, I stilled my trembling and tentatively brushed my fingertips over the bulge.  His cock jerked under my touch, straining towards me, inviting more.  Encouraged, I stroked the length of him with greater surety.  Even through the thick material of his sweatpants, I could feel him harden further in response to my ministrations.

The sound of his low groan made my heart soar, my gratification only increasing when his hips lifted, causing his cock to grind against my palm.  My touch trailed higher, my fingers dipping beneath the hem of his shirt to trail through the line of dark hair that disappeared into his pants.

His savage growl and his sudden, fierce grip on my wrist elicited a small, shocked cry from my lips.  He jerked my hand away from his skin and quickly shifted his body away from me.  He was
abruptly on his feet, his expressive eyes glaring down at me from where he towered over me, his teeth bared.

This time, my quivering had nothing to do with either excitement or hesitancy; I was terrified.  I knew Master would never hurt me, but the fury etched into his features made me fear
that I had done something unforgivable.

“Please, Master.  I’m sorry.  I thought…”

“You thought what?”  He barked, livid.  “That you could break a rule and there wouldn’t be consequences?”  I tried to shrink away from him, but his hand on my wrist held me fast.

The lines of his face softened ever so slightly in the wake of my distress.  “What were you thinking?  Tell me, girl.”

“I thought you wanted me to.”  My voice was barely audible.

His brows drew together forbiddingly.  “I’ve told you I don’t want you to touch me like that.  But you chose to defy me.  Why?”

“I…  I’m worried you won’t keep me if I don’t show you what I can do for you.  I want to please you, Master.  I want to give myself to you.”

His frown deepened, but disquiet replaced the anger in his eyes.  “You can’t do that, sweetheart.  I can’t keep you forever.  I’m just taking care of you until we can find your family.”

His words hit me like a blow to the gut, making my insides writhe as agony tore through me.  “But you…  You said I was yours,” I insisted faintly, unwilling to accept his words.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he countered roughly.  “I’m sorry.  Shit.”  His hand clenched to a fist.  “I’m just trying to help you, sweetheart.  You’re not my slave.”

Oh, god.  I had pushed him too far.  I had disobeyed him, and now he was rejecting me.

“No!”  The word was a wrenching sob.  I flung myself off the bed, kneeling at his feet in a show of supplication.  I couldn’t allow him to let me go.  “I’m sorry, Master.  I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry…”  The words ran together, devolving into a pained whimpering as terror gripped me.

He knelt before me, his arms enfolding me.  “Shhh.  It’s okay, girl.  You can stay with me.  But so long as you’re here, you’ll obey my rules.  Can you do that for me?”

I stared up at him, clinging to his order like a lifeline.  “Yes, Master.  I’ll be good.  I’m sorry.”

He pressed his finger to my lips, his eyes troubled.  “That’s enough apologizing,” he told me.  “
I
need to apologize to you.”

My jaw dropped.  What could Master possibly have to apologize for?  He was my Master; he could do no wrong.

“I promised you I would always be honest with you, but I lied to you last night.  You asked if I wanted anything more than to take care of you.”  He drew in a deep breath, his lips twisted as though he had bitten into something distasteful.  “As much as I wish that were true, I can’t help reacting to you.  You’re a beautiful woman, and my sexual tastes…”  He shook his head slightly, grimacing.  “My body is used to reacting certain ways to certain stimuli.  But I can’t act on those impulses when it comes to you.  I won’t take advantage of you like that.”  His glowing eyes speared me to the core, and I was shocked to find that the light in them was beseeching rather than demanding.  “Don’t touch me like that again, no matter what you think I want.  My body might react to you, but I never want that from you.  Understand?”

I was silent for a moment, my mind reeling as I struggled to process everything he had just said.  He wanted me, but he didn’t want me. 

I shook my head, clearing it.  I didn’t have to understand.  All I had to do was accept his order and cede to his will.  It was my only chance of securing him as my Master.

“I won’t do it again, Master.”

Something twisted inside me as I made the promise.  But my discontent was quickly chased away by the sweet sensation of his lips brushing the top of my head.

“Good girl.”

I sighed into him, my muscles going limp with relief.  He shifted my body so I was cradled in his arms where he knelt on the floor.  We stayed there for a long time as he murmured reassuring words and held me tenderly.

When he finally helped me to my feet, my muscles were still watery from the terror that had taken hold of me at his rejection.  He steadied me with his hands on my waist, guiding me to the bathroom.  This time I took care of my business without begging him to remain with me.  I would be stronger for him.  I would be better.

Much of the morning’s tension eased as I cooked breakfast for the two of us.  Sweet memories of our laughter the day before buoyed my spirits, and the act of preparing something for Master calmed me.  After breakfast, I resumed my place on the couch beside Master.  He half-heartedly tapped away at his laptop, but most of his attention was focused on the films we watched.

In the afternoon, Master commanded that I exercise.  He worked out alongside me, continuing long after my own muscles gave out.  I leaned back against the wall, content to watch his muscles bulge and ripple as he toned his body.  Afterward, he insisted that I shower on my
own.  The prospect made me anxious, but I focused solely on pleasing him, resolutely ignoring my scarred reflection as I went about my tasks. 

When I emerged, he rewarded me by holding me close, stroking his fingers through my damp hair as he told me how proud he was.  I glowed at the praise.

The next day was much the same.  The only difficult part was when my clothes arrived in the mail in the late afternoon.  The delivery prompted Master to follow through on his order that I pick out my own clothes.  Mercifully, he helped me through the challenge by giving me options.

“What do you like?”  He asked as he opened up his web browser. 
“Slacks or dresses?”

“Dresses,” I answered automatically.  Dresses were feminine and flirty.  They made me feel pretty.  And a cute dress made picking out an outfit ridiculously easy.  One article of clothing and I was done.

His approving smile elicited an answering grin from me.  Suddenly, I regarded my task with eager anticipation.  I wanted to look pretty for Master.  I became aware that I felt extremely frumpy in my shapeless sweatpants.

“We’ll have to start at square one, sweetheart,” Master said, his eyes twinkling.  “Believe it or not, I don’t often shop for women’s clothing.”

I couldn’t hold back my giggle.  Master smiled at the sound as he turned his attention to the computer.  A quick Google search for “day dresses” brought up modcloth.com as the first hit.  I was instantly in love.  An hour later, there were ten items in the shopping cart.  I cringed when my eyes fell on the total price.

“That’s too much, Master,” I protested.

He waved a dismissive hand at me.  “You’ve been very good; you’ve earned it.”

“But -”

He shot me a hard look, silencing me instantly.  “I want you to have these.  Are you questioning me?”

“No, Master,” I said quickly.  I wasn’t about to defy him again.

Master also insisted on purchasing jeans and a few blouses for me.  I was overwhelmed by his generosity, again struck by the disquieting feeling that I didn’t deserve it; he did so much for me, but he allowed me to do so little for him.

Our shopping done, Master closed the laptop and selected a new movie for us to watch, and our pattern from the previous day resumed.

Two more days passed in what was rapidly becoming a predictable fashion: I prepared out meals, Master and I cuddled on the couch watching movies, we exercised together, and I showered afterward.  The routine was comforting, providing my life with structure.  Master would ask for my opinions about food and the films we watched, but I never had to make any important decisions about what we did for the day.  And Master slept beside me every night, holding me close.  His hard cock would nudge me awake in the morning, but I never tried to touch him again.

But on the third morning, I was awoken by the ringing of Master’s phone.  He retreated into the living room to take the call, but I didn’t fail to notice the bulge of his erection as he quickly walked away from me.  His tone was agitated as his muffled words drifted through the closed door.

“Who was that?”  I asked when he finally returned to me.

“Just Clayton being an asshole,” he said dismissively.  “Apparently I’m not doing enough of his goddamn paperwork.”

I said nothing.  Master had agreed to do something he disliked immensely just so he could stay home and look after me.  The thought made me realize the impermanence of my situation; Clayton assumed Master would return to work once they found my family.

But I didn’t have a family.  The woman who had been taken by that Bastard had a family, but she didn’t exist anymore.

Besides, even if she did exist, I didn’t
want
to be her.  I wanted to be Master’s.

It didn’t matter.  Clayton and Reed wouldn’t find that woman, not without my help.  And I had buried her too deeply for them to ever find her.  I would stay with Master.

Later that day, my dresses arrived.  I was eager to try on the new clothes, but I was distracted by the other delivery that came along with them.  Master set a gorgeous bunch of deep purple irises in a crystal vase, placing it before me where I sat on my customary barstool.  My fingers trembled slightly as I reached out to brush the soft petals, marveling at the cheerful, bright yellow heart nestled in the center of the flower.

“While you were picking out dresses, I noticed that you like purple,” Master rumbled from behind me as I stared at the flowers reverently.  “Do you like them?”

I turned to him, blinking away the tears that obscured his visage.  “I love them,” I said fervently.  “Thank you, Master.”

“You are more than welcome, little one.”

His eyes burned with an intensity I didn’t quite understand.  Whatever it was entranced me completely; I couldn’t have torn from his gaze even if I wanted to.  And I definitely didn’t want to.  I barely breathed as I stared up at him, waiting.  For what, I wasn’t sure.  But I wanted it desperately.

He blinked, breaking the intimate connection.

“I like seeing you happy, sweetheart,” he said gruffly.

I bit back my instinct to protest when he put distance between us, returning to the couch to retrieve his laptop.  I silently followed in his wake and settled down beside him in my usual spot.

After exercising that afternoon, I went to take my customary shower.  As I washed myself, my fingers brushed over the fine hairs that covered my legs.  I frowned.  I was going to wear one of my pretty new dresses for the evening, and I didn’t want to appear at all untidy.

My mind made up, I darted out of the shower, dripping wet, to search for a spare razor.  I quickly found what I was looking for in one of the cabinets beneath the sink, and I tore the razor from its packaging before stepping back into the shower.  I slicked soap over my legs and meticulously shaved them.  I took care of my underarms as well, vaguely disgusted to realize I hadn’t done so in a long time.  How could Master have possibly called me “gorgeous” when I was so unkempt?