Free The Only Choice (The Choices Trilogy #3) by Dee Palmer Page B

dominance, needing him. One hand strokes my cheek, tilting my chin firmly so he can kiss me without fear of rebuttal, not that I could. I couldn’t deny him a single thing right now. I cry as he pushes deeper, changing his angle and using his other hand to grip my knee moving it higher to get just that little bit deeper and he does. Christ, I choke out a scream as he touches something so deep it sets my core alight, sending fire sizzling through my nerve endings and leaving me a panting trembling wreck.
    “Oh fuck, ah . .ah yes God, yes.” I exhale, limp and quivering. He looks down into my eyes with a wicked smirk.
    “We are going to keep doing this until you remember to ask for permission to come.” He kisses me lightly on the nose and pulls his hips back and plunges hard causing a sharp cry in the back of my throat. My breath is ragged, my skin a slick sheen of fresh perspiration and my muscles are in a constant state of nervous twitching, alert and exhausted in equal measure. He leans up on one elbow and takes one hand to where we are joined. His thumb sweeping small delicate circles on my exposed nub of nerves and sensing the instant build of pressure he drives deep again, relentless and hard. All the time he lunges and grinds, pushing my body like an expert, talented and intuitive he holds my eyes with his dark pools of liquid lust and passion, raw and real. He takes my breath away and he’s going to make me come, again. I cry out this time.
    “Please, please sir . . . please may I come?” My frantic plea is almost too late as I can feel the ripple of contractions begin at the base of my spine. He chuckles knowing how close I am.
    “Oh you do like living on the edge.” He slows the tortuous roll of his hips and I can see he is struggling too as beads of perspiration gather and fall in rivulets down his temples. “Come for me.” He whispers and I let go before he finishes his consent. He throws his head back on an animalistic roar so loud. I am for the first time glad he has cleared the office floor. Following me with his own release he sinks deep and collapses onto me pushing my breath from my body with his weight.

WE LAY ENTWINED and immobile for, I’m not sure how long and I would still be there if Daniel hadn’t moved and carefully carried me to his bathroom. I watch silently as he readies the shower and strips the rest of his clothes. My body is too exhausted and my mind too frazzled to process how I feel but I am looking forward to that shower. Clouds of billowing steam rise and mist the glass of the shower door and the mirrors on the walls. He holds my hand and leads me in, standing, held in his arms as the hot rods of water pummel my aching bones and I sigh because I think I must be in heaven. He takes some soap in his hands and begins to massage and wash my tired body, delicately worshiping every inch and I can feel my eyes pool when I realise I am actually in hell. This is too much . . . it has to stop. He has to stop. “Blue.” I struggle to mumble my safe word because it sticks in my throat and the noise of the shower muffles the sound.
    “What’s that baby?” He still has one arm wrapped around my waist as he cleanses me with the other and he leans his ear to my mouth. I am glad the water is hiding the tears I can now feel flow freely down my cheeks.
    “Blue.” I repeat and everything stops. He steps back, hands in the air like I have a gun to his chest. An interesting analogy, because he blasted my heart to smithereens when he walked away last week. His jaw clenches as does his fists but he turns, leaves the shower and leaves the bathroom without a word. I sink to the floor, my cries drowned out by the noise of the falling water. What the fuck was I thinking; that I could be that detached I could just fuck him without feeling something, without having all this hurt just heaped upon me once more. I’m not a robot and nothing’s changed. He didn’t even want to see me. If I hadn’t