Daniel Part Two - Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven - Sex, Lies, and Bathwater This chapter is dedicated to my sexy webmaster Mark Lidstone who is single-handedly responsible for making my website and blog so beautiful. Follow him on Twitter @marklidstone .
Anya followed Daniel to his bathroom and didn’t say a single word the entire walk there. Not a word of complaint. Not a word of insult. A big part of him already regretted his brash words. For her to be that silent in his presence could only mean one thing—she was terrified.
Good. Daniel forced his pity and sympathy down. Let her feel a little fear. Maybe being alone with a male Dominant strong enough to snap her in half with one hand would make her think twice about going through with Kingsley’s auction. And nothing would happen tonight other than she’d get to see what he kept under his oxymoronic designer jeans.
In the bathroom he shut the door and turned off the taps.
“Scared?” he asked, facing her across the steaming bathroom.
She lifted her chin.
“Non. Of course not.”
She clasped her hands nervously in front of her and rubbed an invisible speck of something off her thumb.
“I have three brothers. I changed their diapers and helped them dress for school. You don’t have anything that will surprise me, Daniel.”
Daniel grinned at her in a way he hoped made her even more nervous than she already was.
“You’re submitting to me for the next two hours. When you submit to me, you call me, ‘Sir.’ Comprenez, ma petite?”
“Your accent is terrible.”
Daniel aimed The Ouch at her.
“What was that?”
Anya swallowed audibly and shifted from foot to foot.
“Your accent is terrible…Sir.”
“Better. Now come here.” Daniel snapped his fingers and pointed at a spot in front of him.
Anya crossed the floor so slowly, so gingerly, one would have thought she’d been walking barefoot across broken glass. It took everything he had not to laugh out loud at her nervousness.
“No sex, remember,” Daniel said to assuage her fears. “Nothing’s going to happen against your will. Do you have a safe word?”
Slowly she nodded.
“Fleur-de-lis,” she whispered.
“Very pretty. Did you know the Fleur-de-lis symbolizes the Virgin Mary?”
She shook her head. “Non. I like lilies. That’s why I chose it.”
“It does. Symbol of purity and chastity.”
For once she actually looked impressed by him.
“How do you know that?”
“I’m a librarian. Now undress me.”
Anya’s eyes went wide—comically wide.
“You said you helped dress your brothers for school. Surely you helped them undress before baths. Just think of it as that.”
Slowly Anya reached out and laid her hands flat on his stomach. Curling her fingers, she grasped the fabric of his sweat-stained t-shirt.
“You have beautiful hands,” Daniel said, noticing for the first time her delicate fingers, so graceful and well-formed.
She shook her head.
“Non, pas du tout. See?”
She released his shirt and turned her hands over letting him see her palms. All over her fingertips he saw small calluses and small pinpricks from her sewing needles.
Daniel took her gently by the wrists and raised her hands to chest height. “Still beautiful…but you work too hard.”
He lifted one hand to his lips and kissed the center of her palm. Anya breathed in sharply as his mouth met her skin. Under his thumb he could feel the rapid beating of her pulse.
“Now…continue.” He reluctantly released her wrists and she once again grasped the fabric of his t-shirt.
“You’re disgusting, Sir.” She started to pull the shirt upward. “What were you doing?”
“Was someone chasing you, Sir?”
“Not that I saw.”
“Then yes, madness. Lift your arms, s’il vous plaît.”
Daniel didn’t move a muscle.
Anya sighed with obvious irritation.
“Lift your arms…please, Sir.”
“Good girl.” He raised his arms and let Anya pull his shirt completely off. As she took it off she turned around and held the sweaty garment out in front of her.
“What are you doing, Anya?”
“Looking for an open flame so I can burn this.”
Daniel laughed and took it from her.
“We’ll have a bonfire later.” He tossed the shirt into the corner of the bathroom. Anya flinched. Daniel had seen her apartment. Damn neat-freak. He waited, saying nothing as Anya came back to stand in front of him again.
“You’re staring at the floor, Anya.”
“It’s very nice. What is it?”
“Look me in the eye and I’ll tell you.”
Anya bit her bottom lip and raised her eyes slowly to his face. Her gaze roamed up the wall in avoidance of his naked chest before coming to rest squarely on his nose.
She took a deep breath and met his eyes.
“It’s Quartzite,” he said.
“Is it difficult to keep clean?”
Daniel took her wrists in his hands again and pressed her shaking palms into the middle of his chest.
For nearly full minute Daniel said nothing, simply letting Anya’s anxiety build. He wanted her anxious, afraid. For her own good.
“Your hands are shaking. You’re white as a ghost. Think about how you feel right now. Imagine, Anya,” Daniel said in a low voice prompting Anya to close her eyes. “Imagine being with someone you’ve never even met before and doing this. Or worse. Any man who wins you will own you for the night. He might already have you tied to the bed at this point. He might already be inside you. Feel how afraid you are right now and multiply that by a thousand. At least a thousand.”
Anya finally looked at him, really looked at him. First at his eyes and then his lips. From his lips her eyes roamed down his neck and across his shoulders and chest, up each arm and down his stomach before grazing up his body again to look once more into his eyes.
“I’m not afraid,” she whispered. “That’s not why I’m shaking.”
“Not afraid? Really? Then why are you shaking?” he demanded. He had to get through to this girl before she made the worst mistake of her life.
“Because…Sir…you are…” She stopped and swallowed again and stared at something over his shoulder.
Daniel lifted a hand to her face and caressed her neck under her ear.
“Answer the question, Anya. Why are you shaking?”
“Because…I want you.” She lifted her eyes to his. “Sir.”
Daniel didn’t speak, couldn’t speak at first. Those were the last words he expected to hear from her.
"Say it again," Daniel ordered.
Anya closed her eyes.
"I want you, Sir."
"Is that why you act like you hate me?" Daniel continued stroking her face, her neck just under her hairline and was rewarded with a shiver.
"Non, I do hate you, Sir. So much."
If Daniel hadn't been so aroused he might have managed a laugh. Instead all he could do was gently grasp her chin and force her face up to his.
"I hate you too."
He brought his mouth down onto hers and waited. He didn't have to wait long. Anya parted her lips and let her body relax into his. Tenuously at first she kissed him. And while everything in him wanted to push her against the wall, force her lips wider, and take full possession of her mouth, he held back and let her do most of the work. He cupped the back of her head and allowed himself the liberty of pushing the tip of his tongue against hers. She moaned softly in the back of her throat and that moan carried so much need, so much hunger that Daniel couldn't stop himself from pressing his hips into hers and letting her feel just how much he desperately hated her.
Finally he wrenched his mouth from hers. He'd pull her down and take her right on the quartzite floor if he didn't get himself under control again. She watched him with her amber eyes wide as a frightened deer.
"No more delays," he said, remembering he was dominating her right now. Supposedly. He refused to let her see how much that kiss had affected him. Her virgin lips both scared and brave had only kissed his lips, but somehow the kiss had touched places inside him he'd forgotten were there. "Water will get cold."
Daniel crossed his arms over his chest and stared her down.
Anya's hands still shook as she knelt down on the floor in front of him. Now Daniel had to glance away. If he looked at her on her knees in front of him all hope for continued self-control would be lost. He felt her fumbling with the laces of his running shoes. He raised one foot, then the other as she pulled them off along with his socks. She must really be scared as she made no commentary about his sweaty footwear.
As the seconds passed, Anya seemed to fall into her submissive role. She sat his shoes aside neatly and tucked the laces into them. She put his socks with his sweaty t-shirt. Daniel lost the battle of wills with himself and started watching her again. A veil seemed to fall over her eyes as the angry, scared, temperamental Anya disappeared and a new placid, contented, submissive Anya took her place. At that moment, Daniel wasn't sure which Anya he preferred.
Submissive Anya reached up and started to pull his track pants down.
She kept her eyes respectfully lowered as she brought his pants all the way down. Daniel studied her as he stepped out them.
"You're good at this," he said. "Eleanor said you were the only good submissive she's met in a long time."
A tiny smile appeared at the corner of her full pink lips.
"That is a compliment. She's amazing. I didn't think at first...she's so..."
"Feisty? Spirited? Obnoxious?"
"Dominant. Mais...when she's with him, it's like she's a different person. Is beautiful to see."
Daniel nodded his understanding and didn't add that he knew first hand how beautiful Eleanor became when she slipped into her submissive role. For some reason he didn't want to talk about Eleanor or think about her. She'd walked away from him and disappeared into his peripheral vision. All he could see, all he wanted to see right now was Anya on her knees.
"You're beautiful to see. Just like this."
She whispered something in French and Daniel cursed himself for spending the last year and a half perfecting his Spanish and Portuguese. He even knew how to ask, “Which is the safest bush for pissing on?” in Quechua. Instead he should have been learning some damn French.
"In English," he ordered and decided to start brushing up on his French first chance he got--that day preferably.
"Vous aussi," she repeated. Anya looked up at him from the floor and the fear had disappeared from her gaze and now only innocent trust remained in her wide brown eyes. "You also."
Daniel said nothing, merely let her words hover in the air. He stepped away from her and sank into the steaming bathwater. Without even waiting for his order, Anya stood up, took off her shoes and came to the bathtub. He leaned forward and she stood behind him in the water and sat on the ledge. Daniel leaned back, forcing Anya to spread her legs so he could sit between her knees. When she reached for the bath sponge he turned his head and bit her lightly on the inside of her thigh. She flinched and kicked water.
"So much for the submission." Daniel grabbed a towel and wiped water off his face. “Was nice while it lasted.”
"You could have warned me you were going to bite me."
"It's not as much fun if you know it's coming."
Anya huffed peevishly.
"I'm sorry. I'm trying my best, Sir. I'm...nervous."
"And I'm not making it easier on you, am I?"
"Non, you are not. You're very attractive and very...big. Tall."
"I'm five-eleven. One inch shorter than Kingsley, remember?" he teased. "Although we're fairly well-matched in one other area."
"Is that so?" she asked. Iz zat so? Could her accent be any sexier? Daniel thought about it, decided the answer was "no."
"This is Kingsley Edge we're talking about. There are only three people in the city who haven't seen him naked. And they've all been in comas since the late eighties."
Anya laughed as she started scrubbing his shoulders with the sponge. He leaned forward again to give her access to his back.
"Monsieur is so strange to me. His French is parfait. It's obvious he is from France. But his name isn't French."
"Kingsley's French last name is as long as his...it's a big name. He earned Edge as a last name when he first set up shop in New York about thirteen years ago. Maggie said-”
“My wife. Late wife. She was one of his early conquests. She told me it came from his old nickname. Very into certain areas of edge-play."
Daniel chuckled softly.
"I'll tell you later. If I tell you now, I might end up showing you. And that'll get us both into trouble."
"His first name isn’t French at all. There are no K's in French. Not a single French name begins with K. I can’t even think of a single word in French with a K."
"I think he told me once his mother was American. He doesn't tell many people that. Rather ashamed to be only half-French."
"Ahh...now I have something to tease him about. Half-American? That's worse than being French-Canadian."
"Absolutement," Daniel said, eliciting another laugh from her. She had such a musical laugh. It tinkled like the scattered melody of wine chimes. "But don't be too mean to him about it."
He looked up at her.
"I'll get jealous. I'm the only one I want you being mean to."
Anya smiled down at him. Then she wrung the sponge out on his face.
"Case in point."
Daniel tore the sponge from her hands and rubbed it on her face. Squealing, she raised her arms to block his assault as she let loose a stream of words that he felt reasonably certain constituted some of the worst insults in the French language. Finally he relented and threw the sponge on the floor all the way across the spacious bathroom.
"You're dangerous with that thing," he said.
“Mais…how am I supposed-"
“Use your hands.”
Anya mumbled something under her breath as she picked up a bar of soap and lathered it up in her hands. Slapping her hands hard onto his wet shoulders, she began to knead his taut muscles.
“You might get better access if you joined me in the bath,” Daniel said and wished he could see her face.
“I would get wet.”
“That would be the plan.”
Anya groaned and stood up. She walked around him through the water and came to sit on the ledge at his side.
Daniel raised a leg out of the water and put his foot in her lap.
“No tickling,” he ordered.
“This dress wasn’t meant to get wet, you know…Sir.”
“You could take it off.”
She glared at him.
“Just a suggestion. Not an order.” Daniel winked at her. “You know, for someone who claims poverty and supposedly sends all her money to her brother…you dress rather chic.”
“I make all my clothes. This dress-”
Anya stuck her tongue out at him.
“Oui, zis drezz only took a day to make and maybe...ten dollars? Fifteen? Maman and I made all the little one's clothes.”
Daniel studied her dress with an appraising eye trying to ignore how beautiful it looked on her and instead simply at how beautifully it was made.
“You’re incredibly talented. Have you thought about going to design school? Or starting your own line?”
She bent over and gathered water in her cupped hands. Pouring it over his calf and foot she merely shrugged.
“Once all the children are through school, then I will think about it.”
“How old is the youngest?”
“Seven? You’re going to wait fifteen years before going to school?”
Making no reply, Anya lathered up her hands again and ran her soapy fingers up and down his legs. He noted that she stopped at his knee seemingly fearing to move farther up his leg. Probably a wise decision. Her delicate fingers on his skin both moved him to arousal and also simply moved him. This girl was so much younger than him, so inexperienced. Had he ever been with a virgin before? No. Never. Even Allie, the girl he’d lost his virginity to, had been with one person before him.
“I’ll be thirty-seven,” she said, smiling. “And I think that’s a perfect age.”
She released a sigh of pure disgust.
“Terrible. I’ll have to make you a cane.”
At the word “cane” Daniel reached out and grabbed Anya by the wrist. With one tug he had her in the water. First she struggled but stopped her fighting when he forced her knees to straddle his thighs and let her feel against the lace of her panties how much he wanted her.
“Never say ‘cane’ around a Dominant.” Daniel wrapped his arms around her lower back and whispered the words into her ear. “You’ll put dangerous ideas into our heads.”
She tried to pull away but he held her against him. Until she said her safe word, he wouldn't back off an inch.
“Do you fantasize about that?” Daniel asked as he ran his hands possessively up her back, feeling the fabric of her dress dampen with his touch. “About getting beaten?”
She closed her eyes tight and rested her forehead on his shoulder. Higher his hands slid on her back until his right hand once more cupped the back of her neck. She didn’t answer in words but he felt her nod a “yes.”
“You said when you were fourteen you told a friend about the thoughts you had.” Daniel slipped his other hand under her dress and let it rest high on her thigh. Her soft skin felt so smooth and warm in the steaming bath water. What he wouldn’t give to have her naked against him. “What did you tell her you dreamed of?”
Anya let out a low groan.
“Answer me.” Daniel squeezed her thigh and let his hand inch a little higher. “That’s an order.”
Slowly Anya wound her arms around his shoulders. He felt her hands balled into nervous fists finally start to unclench.
“Touch me,” he said into her ear. “That’s also an order.”
Anya laid her hands flat on his back and with her fingertips caressed his shoulderblades.
“Now answer the question. I won’t even make you look me in the eyes.”
Her fingers traveled from his shoulders to the center of his back.
“She asked me...my friend Lea...what I thought it would be like.”
“Neither of us had even been kissed yet. I made a mistake. I answered first.”
Daniel moved his hand from her thigh to between her legs. He pressed two fingers gently against the lace of her panties. Even through the fabric he could feel her swollen clitoris. Anya stiffened but made no protest.
“What did you tell her you thought sex would like?”
“I told her I thought it would be...” she flinched as he started kneading her clitoris.
“I told her...I wanted to be held down hard while when he made love to me. I told her I wanted to be able to see bruises on my wrists the next day. I said I thought he might even tie me to the bed...that he would tell me what I had to do and he might slap me if I didn’t do just so...And that he’d make me say things to him about how much I wanted him...he would make me tell him all my secret thoughts even if telling them made me cry. I’d heard virgins always felt pain. I told her I looked forward to how much it would hurt. I told her...” Anya pulled her head away from Daniel shoulder and looked into his eyes. “I wanted it to hurt.”
Daniel pushed his fingers in harder, moved them faster against her. Anya gasped and pressed her hips forward.
“And she said you were crazy?”
Anya’s head fell to the side.
“Yes. She said I was fou. Très fou.”
“Why?” Daniel thought nothing in the world sounded more erotic than taking this beautiful young woman’s virginity just as she’d dreamed at age fourteen...holding her down, tying her to the bed, ordering her to submit to his will, letting her writhe from the pain of the first penetration before making her writhe again and again from the pleasures he would inflict on her all night long.
“She said it shouldn’t be like that. A man should always be gentle and loving.”
“Love isn’t always gentle. Sometimes love is rough and brutal. Sometimes it needs to be.”
“I want it to be.”
“Do you?” Daniel brought his mouth to the hollow of her throat. His fingers made tight circles against her clitoris as his other hand gripped the back of her neck with bruising force.
Anya had seemingly lost her ability to speak. Her chest rose and fell with her rapid breaths; her small, taut nipples showed against the wet front of her dress. Over and over she thrust her hips against Daniel’s fingers.
Daniel remembered the first time he fantasized about Anya in Signore Vitale’s shop. He imagined fucking her from behind against the mirror. He’d vowed to himself...
“Say something nice about me,” Daniel ordered. “You don’t get to come until you say something nice. Now.”
“I lied.” The words came out immediately, hungrily.
“Lied? About what?”
“Monsieur...he didn’t punish me by sending me to you.” She closed her eyes tight and bit her bottom lip. “I just wanted to see you again.”
Her confession sent whatever tiny shred of restraint he had left packing. Wrapping both arms around her, he lifted her out of the bathtub. Water poured off them both as Daniel carried her to his bedroom.
Without a trace of gentleness he put her on her back and yanked her panties down her legs. He tugged her dress up and heard it tear as it came off her and ended up in a wet pile on the floor.
Anya arched underneath him as he took a pale pink nipple into his mouth and sucked on it while his fingers found her other nipple and kneaded it. Daniel felt Anya’s hands sliding up his shoulders. He pulled back, grabbed her arms, and pinned her to the bed by her wrists. Using his knees Daniel wrenched her thighs wide open. Only when Anya stiffened in obvious fear underneath him did he stop. Closing his eyes he took a deep slow breath to calm himself.
“Tell me this you want,” he said in a low voice. “Say it.”
“I want you, Sir.” Her voice sounded so small, so scared. "I want you inside me."
Daniel inhaled sharply. He had condoms, lube...what he needed was a little self-control here or he’d rip this girl open. Before opening his eyes, Daniel took three more deep breaths. One to remind himself that Anya’s fantasy about losing her virginity might be better left in the realm of fantasy. The second breath was to slow his heart’s frantic pounding. He hadn’t been this aroused in years. Not even finding Eleanor on his bed a few nights ago had affected him as viscerally as this beautiful young virgin giving herself up to him. And during the third breath he remembered...Kingsley’s auction.
Opening his eyes, Daniel bought his mouth to Anya’s. She opened herself up to his kiss, to his tongue, to his lips. Her mouth tasted like as sweet and intoxicating as a dessert wine.
“Any price,” he whispered into her mouth. “I’ll pay it.”
He smiled against her lips.
“If I take your virginity you won’t be in the auction. I’ll pay you whatever you want for it.”
Anya tried to pull her hands away from him. He didn’t let go.
Something in her voice warned him he’d somehow said the wrong thing.
“I didn’t mean it like that. Only-”
Anya tried pulling away again.
“Anya, stop. Please listen. You’re worried about money, about your brothers and-”
“You think I want to give myself to you for money?” She yanked again but Daniel wouldn’t let her go.
“No. But you were in the auction for money. And I know you want money and God knows I have more of than anyone needs. I’ll just pay you-”
Daniel almost didn’t understand her what she said. But the look in her eyes told him exactly what she meant.
He released her immediately and Anya pulled her knees tight to her chest in a sudden display of modesty.
“My dress,” she said, her voice hollow and cold. “Please. And please put clothes on too.”
Daniel moved off the bed and picked up her sodden dress from the floor.
“Please.” Anya wouldn’t even look at him.
He handed her the dress and she held it to her chest and made no move to put it on. Then he realized she was waiting for him to leave, to turn his back. Just two minutes ago she’d been completely naked underneath him, her legs open wide, her body wet and waiting for him...now she’d pulled tight into herself, shut down, pushed him away. Tonight she’d finally lowered the bridge and let him get to her. But now he could almost see the drawbridge pulling back up and he was left alone on the other side out in the cold.
Daniel walked into the bathroom and found his pants. As he pulled them on he berated himself for saying, yet again, exactly the wrong thing to Anya. He’d only meant to help her, to comfort her, to take some of the pressure off of her. That’s why he’d offered to pay her...
“Fuck...” he breathed. No wonder she hated him right now. No wonder she safed out. He offered to pay her for her virginity. Like a prostitute. It isn’t what he meant. But that’s how she’d taken it.
“Anya!” Daniel stormed out of the bathroom and found his bed wet and empty. Calling her name again he raced to the living room. Wet footprints littered the floor. Throwing the door open he saw the elevator doors at the end of the hall closing. Had he been able to fly he still wouldn’t have made it to the elevator in time to see her before the doors starting to shut. But that didn’t stop him from trying.
A few feet from the elevator he stopped and called Anya’s name again. All she had to do was reach out and hit the Door Open button. But she had her arms wrapped tight around herself. She looked broken and beautiful, her dress wet with bathwater, her face wet with tears.
“I hate you. Stay away from me.”
In the bathroom, when she’d said, “I hate you,” he knew she was actually saying the opposite. Now he knew she meant every word.
The door shut in his face. And she was gone. And he knew chasing after her right now would only make things worse.
Daniel returned to his apartment and couldn’t even look at the wet mess of the bathroom, of his bed. He stayed in the living room all night stretched out on the couch going over every perfect moment with Anya in his head.
The second he had her in his arms, it felt like he finally knew why he had arms. The second he kissed her he understood why he had lips. The peaceful contentment in her eyes as she knelt at his feet made him understand why he’d been born to dominate in the bedroom. And when she lay underneath him in his bed he understood for the first time why Maggie had died and he had lived, and why Eleanor had left him for someone else leaving him free to pursue anyone he wanted.
He’d died when Maggie died and Eleanor brought him back to life. And now alive he knew exactly who he wanted on stage with him for Daniel, Part Two--Anya.
And that she’d lied to come to see him and had been willing to give up so much money to give her virginity to him instead of at the auction meant only one thing--she was in love with him. And he’d fucked it up completely.
He barely slept that night. Or the next. He called Anya every day and received no answer. He stopped by Signore Vitale’s and was told time and time again she was working at another shop--one he wouldn’t give him the address to. Even Kingsley was of no help.
“She told me she wants to be in the auction, mon ami. And she told me to keep you away from her.”
“When did you start taking orders from submissives?” Daniel had demanded of Kingsley.
“She threatened to tell everyone I was half-American.”
Daniel spent that night fantasizing elaborate ways of killing Kingsley. By morning he’d decided on the guillotine. Fitting for a Frenchman. And a traitor.
Three weeks passed without Daniel hearing a word from Anya or even being able to see her. And during those three weeks apart from her he realized he’d give every penny he had to be able to just kiss her again. That’s all. Just a kiss. Less than a kiss. He’d give every cent he had to know she was safe and wouldn't be giving her body to a dangerous stranger.
Every last cent.
That thought followed him to bed the night before Kingsley’s auction. It lay with him on his pillow and whispered to him until dawn.
And when he woke up the next morning he knew exactly what he had to do.
He picked up the phone and called Eleanor.
Stay tuned for the Conclusion to DANIEL, PART TWO - Friday, June 3rd!
Read the Prequel to Daniel Part Two: SEVEN DAY LOAN
Preorder your copy of THE SIREN: THE SIREN