Kiss Me in the Dark Anthology - Monica James Page 0,22
shower and turn the faucet to hot, I fold and relish in the feel of washing away my sins. The water runs red, but I coax it down the drain with my big toe.
My muscles uncoil from the warmth, and I melt into the feeling of being clean once more. The water feels wonderful, but when I turn, and the spray hits my ass, I flinch. Peering over my shoulder, I flush as bright as my ass cheeks when I see the red prints left by Saint’s hands. I still can’t believe he spanked me, but what’s most disturbing is I can’t believe my response.
Tears threaten to break past the floodgates, but I don’t have time to grieve.
Saint said ten minutes, and I know he won’t give me a second more, so I hurried to wash my hair and condition it as I lathered the vanilla soap over my body. I’m clean with two minutes to spare, so I turn off the water and dry hurriedly.
I’ve applied deodorant, some body lotion, and brushed my hair when I hear heavy footsteps up on the deck. He’s coming.
Stepping into my underwear, which fit, I thread my arms through the bra, and although the cups are a size too small, I hook it and arrange my breasts so they don’t pop out. Just as I reach for my dress, the hatch opens, and Saint appears.
I attempt to throw it on over my head, but he stops me.
“Wait.”
With my arms raised in the air, I pause, my chest rising and falling quickly as I catch my breath.
“Come here.”
There is no point in arguing with him, so I remove the dress and place it over the edge of the basin and walk toward him slowly. I stop when I am a few feet away.
Bashful to be standing in nothing but underwear, especially a bra that barely fits, I cast my eyes downward, unable to look at him. I bite my lip, unsure what he wants me to do.
“Kneel,” he commands.
Although every fiber of my being is demanding I fight, I know this will be over a lot quicker if I just surrender…so I do.
Gradually, I drop to my knees, averting my gaze as I’m embarrassed to be seen this way. But something changes in Saint. His exhalations are deep as he takes his time before he reaches down and caresses the cross at my throat.
My skin breaks out into goose bumps, but I remain passive, unsure what comes next.
“You look…beautiful,” he says painfully slow while I snap my chin upward, locking gazes with him. I was not expecting him to say that.
The feral look reflected in those green depths has me instantly dropping my chin. My cheeks blister. Using my hair as a veil, I hide behind it as I sit back on my heels, measuring my breaths and wringing my hands together.
Although this could be looked at as sexual, as Saint dominating me, I don’t feel objectified. I feel empowered as I’m the one in control. That doesn’t make a lick of sense, but neither does any of this.
I stay this way, awaiting his next move, and when I hear the distinct shutter of a camera clicking, one on a phone, I realize I’ve just found another means of communication. Him slipping up is slim to none, but stranger things have happened—like him leaving his key for me to uncuff myself with or…calling me beautiful.
“Okay, you can get dressed now.”
This is bizarre, to say the least, but I don’t argue.
Standing, I flick back my damp hair, aware he’s watching me, but I quickly make my way into the bathroom and slip the dress over my head. I don’t know what happens next. So I make my way over to the seat and extend my hands, ready to be cuffed, but he shakes his head.
“You’re coming up on deck.”
“I am?” I ask, surprised.
“Yes,” he replies firmly, peering down at my grazed wrist. “You need some sunshine. And you need to eat.” The mere mention of food has my stomach growling.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to mention I look anemic because he’s locked me down here for four days, but I decide against it. The thought of feeling the sunshine on my Vitamin-D depleted skin is too good an opportunity to pass up.
In regards to food, I peer over at the poorly stocked shelves and frown. “Do you have anything that isn’t canned?”
He sweeps his hand outward, gesturing I’m to look for myself.