After the Fall Ch. 03

Thank you to YukonNights for editing this chapter. DeathMarch4, thank you for review and feedback. All the assistance is greatly appreciated.

_____________

Twice during the night, Michael woke to the reassuring warmth of Mariah's body and the gentle cadence of her breathing. The third time he woke, it was morning. He reached for her, but something felt wrong. It wasn't Mariah next to him. He was instantly swamped with an undefined dread. When he opened his eyes, he found Henry looking back at him. He was flopped on his back with his head on Mariah's pillow. Michael's arm was draped over Henry's side. He sat up abruptly, his heart pounding. Henry looked at him reproachfully.

Mariah was not in his bedroom. Reminding himself that the house was secure did nothing to quell the vague fear that something awful had happened to her - or that she had left him. He hurried to her bedroom to check for her there. His anxiety ratcheted up another notch as he surveyed her empty room, but he still had her bathroom and closet to check. When he reached the seating area in her bedroom, he heard the sound of the shower running in her bathroom. Relief washed over him, and the tension left his body so fast that he needed to sit down on the divan.

Mariah was safe, as he had known all along that she must be, but knowing and feeling are two different things. Chastising himself for his foolish and unfounded fears did nothing to alleviate them. Even now, knowing that she must be in the shower, he decided he would feel better once he actually saw her.

When he stepped into the bathroom, he could hear her singing. He didn't recognize the tune and he couldn't make out the words over the sound of the water. The acoustics of the shower gave the last notes of her song a sweetly haunting quality. He watched her through the glass shower enclosure while he waited to see if she would sing again. When she didn't, he cleared his throat to announce his presence. She didn't react, so he tapped on the glass wall of the shower. She shrieked and jumped back.

"It's just me."

"You scared me!"

He joined her in the shower. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

With his arms wrapped around her, the angst finally faded, replaced with a growing awareness of her body against his.

Mariah hid her disappointment over the interruption of her shower. Yesterday had been emotionally demanding. The much-needed solitude of the shower was her first opportunity to let her thoughts sort themselves out. At least it had been until Michael showed up. She needed some time to herself, but his hands roaming over her body made her doubt she would get that any time soon.

She took a deep breath and tried to relax and focus on her goal. Her priority was ensuring the launch of the project to bring people into the compound. She refused to let her irritation with Michael's boundary issues get in the way of accomplishing that.

She allowed herself to be distracted by his hands moving over her skin. She rested her head against his shoulder, but his erection poking against her backside jarred her out of her efforts to relax. When didn't the man have an erection? None of her prior relationships involved being around her partner all the time. She had always been able to retreat to her own space after sex. That was the way she preferred it.

It wasn't that she didn't enjoy sex or that she wasn't attracted to Michael. The wet heat building between her legs was testament to that. The problem was that being around him all the time made it difficult to keep the appropriate emotional distance. It was especially difficult in the constant, breathless state of arousal he had been deliberately provoking.

When he pushed her into that mental space, everything slowed down and she felt like her brain was floating in molasses. It became hard to hold onto her thoughts. She wasn't sure whether Michael's campaign to keep her in a sex-addled state was intended to prevent her from thinking straight, or if he did it because he thought she wouldn't be responsive enough to him otherwise. Maybe he was just playing with his new toy. If that were the case, his level of interest should drop once the newness wore off.

There were advantages to Michael's preoccupation with sex, the first of which was the sex itself. He was either a very intuitive lover or a naturally perfect match for her. She hadn't realized until now that it was possible to feel simultaneously sated and aroused. Her body had never felt so good. Her mind was another matter.

The preoccupation with sex also had the benefit of forestalling conversations that were sure to end badly. Michael constantly tested her boundaries. He kept wanting to know what she was thinking or feeling. It was intrusive. While he might feel he had known her for years because he had been spying on her through the security feeds, she had only known him for three days.

He treated her more like a girlfriend than someone he had coerced into a sexual arrangement. While it was more pleasant being treated like a courtesan, she wasn't blind to the risk it posed. If he treated their arrangement like a romantic relationship, she might start to feel like it was one. Every instinct was warning her that she must not allow him to blur those lines. If it were an option, she would have solved the problem by staying away from him.

Michael interrupted her thoughts. "What were you singing earlier?"

"You heard that? How long were you there?" Realizing he heard her singing in an unguarded moment left her embarrassed and annoyed. She enjoyed singing, but she didn't want to do it in front of people.

"I just heard the last little bit. It was pretty. I didn't know you could sing."

"Everyone can sing."

"I meant... Never mind. What was the song you were singing?"

"Just an old ballad. Could you hand me the shampoo?"

Instead of handing her the shampoo, he started washing her hair for her. His fingers moving in circles over her scalp relaxed her. By the time he rinsed her hair, her irritation faded. She realized that she had to stop letting herself react to every little thing he did that rubbed her the wrong way. It was counterproductive.

The insistent voice of reason reminded her that she needed to focus on developing her mental defenses, but Michael was currently sabotaging those efforts. He had moved her hair aside and was kissing the back of her neck. Her shiver gave away her reaction to his touch there, and his arms tightened around her. With one of his arms crossed between her breasts and the other wrapped from the top of her ribs to her waist, she was firmly caged against his chest. His exertion of physical control triggered another warning in her mind, but then his teeth grazed the side of her neck, and she felt the stupefying pull of arousal again.

The weight of his cock nestled against the cleft of her ass caused her mind to wander. She remembered the way it felt in her hand, how smoothly the silky skin slid over the solid core. The memory summoned an image of his precum welling up in a crystal-clear bead before it yielded to gravity.

Michael's lips brushed her ear. "What are you thinking about, kitten?"

"Huh? Oh, I was thinking about the shower tile." She named the first thing she saw.

He nipped her earlobe. "The tile, hmmm?"

"Yes. It's very tasteful."

His hands slid over her wet skin to fondle her breasts. He kissed the side of her neck. "Tell me what you like about the tiles."

"The color." Her breath caught when he licked the water from her neck.

"Just the color?" He nibbled his way down the side of her neck.

"The shape is very modern." She was sure he was teasing her, but she was stuck in her poorly chosen lie.

"You mean rectangles?"

His fingers were strumming across her nipples now. She struggled to think of an answer. "It's the proportions."

He smiled to himself. She was such a terrible liar. The tension in her body rose every time she told him another silly installment of her story about the tile. Her head tilted subtly away from him, unconsciously signaling the discomfort lying was causing her. Tempted by the bend of her neck, he closed his teeth over the curve where her neck met her shoulder. Her breath caught, and he sucked at the delicate skin there. When he released her neck, he raised his mouth to her ear.

"You know what I think, kitten?" He pinched a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. "I think you weren't thinking about the tiles at all. Do you want to know why I think that?"

She shook her head no, and he chuckled. He spent a moment playing with her nipples, tugging and twisting lightly.

"I don't think thoughts about the tiles made you start rubbing your ass against my cock."

She looked back at him in shock. Had she really been doing that? She looked away quickly.

"Oh, I don't mind, kitten. I love feeling your ass wiggling against me like that. I just wanted to know what you were thinking about that made you do it."

She tried to cross her arms, but his hands were in the way. When she tried to start washing so she could get out of the shower, he took the soap from her. He kept her trapped in his arms while he soaped his hands and began bathing her. He massaged her arms as he washed them, until she relaxed under his touch. When he reached her neck, her chin tipped up and her head fell back against his shoulder. Her eyes closed and she seemed to have forgotten about her little lie.

His hands slid down her chest to soap her breasts. "Don't you think you'd better tell me?"

Her eyes opened. "Tell you... oh, about the tiles?"

"No, you already told me you like the tiles because they're pretty-colored rectangles. Don't you think you'd better tell me what you were really thinking about?"

"I don't remember."

"Really?" Amusement shaded his voice. "Do you need me to help you remember?" He slowly rocked his hips so that she could feel his cock rubbing against her ass.

"I can't remember when you do things like that."

He pinched her nipples and tugged them until they slipped from his soapy fingers. "Things like that?"

She nodded.

His hands slid lower to her slick heat. He soaped her slowly. His finger slid up and down over her clit. "What about things like that?"

She nodded again. He gave her clit a pinch, then turned her to face him. "Look at me."

He watched her eyes as his hands slid over her back. The black of her dilated pupils was swallowing up the warm brown of her irises. "Are you listening to me?"

She stared back at him just a fraction of a second longer than it should have taken her to answer. "I'm listening."

He rubbed her shoulders and started working his hands down the muscles on either side of her spine. "I want you to tell me what you were thinking about."

"When I—?"

"Mhmm. When you were rubbing your sweet little ass against my cock." He soaped his hands again and started massaging her buttocks.

"Are you going to tell me?"

"No."

He raised his eyebrows. "I think you will."

She shook her head.

He pulled her suddenly against him and slid his finger down between her buttocks to press against her puckered opening. She squealed and jerked against him.

"How about now?"

She was squirming away from his finger, but she wasn't answering, so he wrapped an arm around her waist to hold her against him and pushed his soapy finger into her. She yelped and tried to get away from him, but she still wasn't answering him. He started pushing his finger deeper.

"Michael, please, it burns!"

He frowned. He had barely penetrated her past his first knuckle, but she was squirming and pushing against his chest. Maybe the soap was burning her. He was already withdrawing his finger when she told him what he had wanted to know.

"Your cock. I was thinking about your cock. That's all, I swear."

He pulled her against him and reached for the detachable shower head to rinse her. She was trembling against his chest. He didn't understand what was going on and wasn't sure what to do. Something was wrong; this wasn't how she ordinarily reacted to pain. He had seen her get hurt several times on the video feeds. He remembered each time with sickening clarity, but he had never seen her even acknowledge pain. So why was she acting like this now over something that could not possibly have been very painful? Her reaction seemed genuine, but it didn't make any sense.

He stroked her back. "I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I'm not hurt," she contradicted her earlier claim, bristling like a wet cat.

He kissed her forehead. "Well, I'm sorry, anyway."

Her teeth were starting to chatter, so he turned the water temperature up and guided her to stand beneath the showerhead while he washed himself. Her disproportionate reaction concerned him, and he needed to get to the bottom of it. He also wanted to know why she never wanted to admit it when she was hurt or scared. The obvious answer was fear of looking weak, but that didn't really seem to fit. She was confident. In fact, she was entirely too confident for his peace of mind. She took way too many risks.

Simply asking her to explain wouldn't work. She wouldn't answer him if he asked. The last thing either of them needed was another interrogation session, but that's what would happen if he asked and she refused to answer. He was unwilling to let her get away with refusing to answer and disinclined to punish her while she was upset, so his only choice was not to ask.

He turned on a second showerhead so he could rinse off without moving her out from under the warm water. If she had just told him what she was thinking about, they could have been having steamy shower sex right now. Instead, she was standing under the water looking like he was trying to drown her. On top of it all, he was still rock-hard, which just seemed wrong, even to him. In his defense, she had just confessed to fantasizing about his cock. That was a fact that was not going to leave his head any time soon, no matter how inappropriate the timing was.

He looked over at her. She was beautiful and he wanted her, but she was in her own little world right now, thinking thoughts she would never tell him about.

"Kitten?" He just wanted to get her attention. Calling her "kitten" was a slip of the tongue.

Her eyes swept over him, lingering on his erection. The last thing she wanted right now was for him to fuck her, so she took the initiative and knelt in front of him. Her lips were wrapped around his cock before he had time to react.

He pulled her away from his cock. "Mariah, I didn't mean to call you 'kitten.' You don't have to- "

"Just let me."

He probably should have refused. He probably shouldn't have watched the water running down her face and breasts in rivulets. He definitely shouldn't have waited to see her tongue sliding over her lower lip.

"Mariah, look at me. You- "

Her mouth was already on his cock again. Maybe it would be okay to let her. It might help her calm down. He pulled down the towel that was hanging over the top of the glass enclosure. He folded it and handed it to her.

"You can kneel on this."

She ignored him.

"I'm not going to let you hurt your knees on the hard tile."

She just kept sucking.

He put his hands on her shoulders and eased her off his cock. "Stand up, Mariah."

When she didn't stand, he shifted his grip to pick her up. As soon as she realized what he was doing, she scrambled to her feet. He opened the shower door and she slipped past him to get a towel. He took it from her and dried her off. By the time he dried himself off, she had thrown on the bathrobe and was toweling her hair. He caught her worried glance in the mirror.

He kissed her damp hair and pulled her into his arms. "Everything's okay, sweetheart. Now, go ahead and blow your hair dry so you don't get chilled."

While he waited for her in her bedroom, he tried to decide how to handle her insistence on being so secretive. He didn't want to upset her further, but he had to put a stop to her habit of hiding things from him. He was also very displeased with the way she retreated into her own private world where he couldn't reach her. It had seemed spontaneous, but he could easily imagine her slipping into it whenever she wanted to avoid talking to him. A sound spanking would be a very satisfying way to snap her out of if she did it deliberately, but it was not the right way to deal with it this time.

The blow dryer stopped, but Mariah didn't come out. He found her sitting on the teak bench. When he moved to pull her up, she stood on her own. He slid the bathrobe off her shoulders and led her back to his bedroom. When they reached the bed, he turned back to her and found that she was calm and fully present, without a hint that anything had upset her. The sudden change was nearly as disconcerting to him as her earlier distress.

He sat against the headboard and pulled her onto the bed beside him. He held her against his shoulder and stroked her side as he chose his words. Without any better ideas, he risked a direct question, "Why are you suddenly okay?"

She leaned away and looked back at him with a frown. "What kind of question is that? Why wouldn't I be okay?"

"You were very upset just a few minutes ago."

She laughed. "You think I should still be upset because you didn't want me to suck your cock?"

"You know perfectly well that's not what I'm talking about." If she thought she could deter him by adopting an offhand manner, she was mistaken.

She laid back against his shoulder. "Are you still going on about that? It really wasn't a big deal, Michael. I wish you'd just let it go."

"Turn around and look at me."

"Why?"

"Because if you don't, I'm going to do it for you."

"Fine." She moved down to the end of the bed and sat facing him. He refused to take the bait.

"Nope, back up here." He patted a spot on the bed beside his thigh.

She shrugged carelessly and sat in the spot he indicated.

"Now, I want you to tell me just what it is you think you're doing."

"I think I'm humoring your inner control freak by sitting exactly where you wanted."

"Mariah—" he stopped when he realized he was raising his voice. The temptation to pull her over his knee for a nice, long spanking was rising. "Mariah, that's not what I'm talking about. Why are you suddenly acting like nothing is wrong when you were so upset just a little bit ago?"

"Because nothing is wrong. I wasn't that upset. I overreacted for a couple of seconds. You're making a big deal out of nothing."

He stared at her in disbelief when she dismissed her earlier reaction. What she was saying simply wasn't true, even if she did seem to believe it. She had been trembling against him like a terrified animal. It hadn't lasted long, but it was real.

She could see from the way he was looking at her that he refused to accept the truth. And it was the truth. The situation triggered her. She had a moment of panic, but that's all it was - just panic, unattached to the pain or anger of the triggered memory. Dealing with that sort of one-dimensional biological reflex was a simple matter of relegating it to a cobwebby corner of her mind to die a quiet death. That should have been the end of it, but Michael wouldn't stop poking at it. His intrusiveness was the only reason a brief moment of panic was stretching into a long and unpleasant conversation.

When Michael realized he wasn't going to be able to get her to volunteer anything, so he decided to test a theory.

"Were you afraid because you thought I was going to fuck your ass?"

Her eyes flashed up to his, but he didn't see anything more than annoyance in them. "Am I supposed to be? I told you before, I'm not afraid of you."