Odalisque

She loved him.

No. No. Of course she didn’t love him like that. She just loved the color of his skin, his beautiful eyes, his muscles and his cock still pressed firm and hot in her mouth. She felt some vibration under her fingers. Perhaps some groan or exhalation. He wished she could hear herself laugh.

She wished she could hear him come. Just once.

She felt almost mournful as he slipped away from her. Unthinking, again she slid her hand down between her legs. She was wet, her clit perky and swollen under her fingertips. When Constance looked up at him, Kai was buttoning his shirt and giving her an assessing look. She hoped he wasn’t wondering about the absence of blood. She didn’t want to have to explain the concept of a menstrual cup to him in sign language. Much less draw a diagram, for God’s sake.

But no. He was probably smart enough to have already figured that out. He was giving her a different kind of assessing look. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip.

“You like that?” he asked. “It turns you on, serving me this way?”

How could he doubt it? She curled her fingers away from her tingling clit to make one very simple and heartfelt sign. “Yes.”

“Masturbate for me then.” The predatory look on his face excited her. “Is that permissible? Can I make you do that at this time of the month?” His lips pursed in a half-smile. “Is that giving or receiving?”

She made a naughty looking sign. “Both.”

He chuckled, but she was still, feeling pinned by his direct gaze.

“Lie down on your back. Spread your legs so I can watch.”

Constance lay back right where she was, her shoulders on the soft deep pile carpet. Her legs tensed as she spread them slowly and braced her heels on the floor. He watched her from his full height, imperious now. Her Master.

“Masturbate and make yourself come.”

It was hard to be one hundred percent sure of his words from this angle, but she knew without a doubt what he wanted her to do. Her gaze never left his face. His lips moved slightly, but she didn’t think he was talking.

His eyes were her whole world.

She parted her slick pussy lips with eager fingers, stroking over her clit. Her hips rose of their own volition as the swarm of heat and desire in her center seemed to spread out to her whole pelvis. Her nipples tightened with a delicious ache. She imagined Kai pinching them, biting them. She stared up and remembered him hurting her and fucking her. Taking her. Her fingers moved faster, rubbing and pressing, seeking release for the hot lust that had overtaken her as she’d sucked her Master’s cock.

She wanted to draw this out, this glorious torment under his scrutiny. He was breathing even faster than before. She could see his chest rising and falling, and felt blood pumping in her ears like a drumbeat. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. She closed her eyes, ready to fall over the edge.

But then she felt him moving, felt his presence beside her. She opened her eyes and stared up into amber pools edged with blue-gray. Dark brows, and full lips parted over straight teeth. He was crouching beside her, and their gazes locked just as a shattering orgasm contracted within her. Her hands flew off her clit. The sensation was too much. She clutched at his arm and he swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in the column of his neck. His five-o’clock-shadow stubble rubbed against her hand. He was pressing her fingers to his face. For a moment he wore a look of pure animal violence.

Constance curled up on her side, needing to look away. He released her. If he said anything before he left the room, she didn’t see. She only remembered, like imprinting, the feel of his rough cheek scratching against her palm.

Chapter Nine: Perfect

Kai took an hour, a full hour, to calm down. Odalisque. Fucking hell. She had some kind of superpower to turn him into a mindless maniac. So brazenly sexual. So unashamed. So submissive to his will. She’d touched herself like nothing fucking mattered but making herself come. If he hadn’t left--if he hadn’t stood up and marched his ass out of the fucking room--he would have fallen on her until the saffron-colored shag carpet was running with red. Human sacrifice.

Goddamn period.

Well, there would only be eleven more of them to endure. Unless he renewed her contract for another year. And another year. Six fucking years. He’d sign on for all of them, the way he was feeling tonight.

But he had to find some kind of restraint and self-discipline for the rest of the evening. For tonight, they would just hang out and talk. He was determined on that account. No blowjobs, no hand jobs, no masturbating, no giving or receiving of any kind except him cooking her dinner and pouring her a glass of wine.

He made some stir-fry and then went to the odella to get her. Constance was curled up on the bed, writing in a notebook. She’d showered, and her hair was still a little wet, dark-shiny against her pale skin.

“Come have dinner with me,” he signed. He had to start signing to her at least some of the time if he ever hoped to get fluent. She nodded and smiled. She also raked her eyes over his body. Head to toe. She did it a lot. It made all those hours on the treadmill seem worthwhile, but she was going to turn him into a narcissist if she wasn’t careful. Even though he only had on some sweats and a faded UCLA tee shirt, she seemed pretty pleased with what she saw.

Hopeless narcissist. Yep.

“You might want to bring that notebook.” He was talking again now, too brain fried from her eye-raping to make coherent signs.

She shoved the one she had under the pillow and got a different one from the desk, then preceded him down the hall. His eyes were riveted to her ass as she sauntered down the steps ahead of him. It fascinated him, how comfortable she was in her nudity. He wanted to get nude too, just to see if he could be as nonchalant about it, but then he liked the power imbalance of being dressed while she was naked.

At the bottom of the stairs he took her hand and kissed it, and led her to the café table in the kitchen, beside the picture window with the view. The veggie stir fry was still steaming. He sprinkled some sesame seeds on top and served it with basmati rice. She took a few bites and then picked up the notebook.

This tastes awesome. How long have you been a vegetarian?

He read her loopy, scrawled hand and smiled over at her. “I don’t do it for any philosophical reasons. I just don’t like the taste of meat. My mother never made it for me when I was a child. She was from India. A lot of vegetarians there.”

Is Kai an Indian name?

He finished chewing a snow pea and picked up the pen. My real name is Kaivalyan. He wrote the name out. He would never have attempted to fingerspell it. He put the pen down and propped his head on his hand. “It means isolation, or aloneness. My mother picked the name out and told my father it meant ‘victorious.’ He was angry later. They were always doing passive-aggressive shit like that to each other. My mother was a very lonely and bitter woman.”

Constance picked up the pen. So was mine. Is your mother still alive?

Kai grimaced. “No. Cancer. My father remarried. He’s...somewhere.”

Do you have any brothers or sisters?

“One sister. Satya. See, she got a great name. Satya means truth. And my sister is very truthful. If you ever meet her, you’ll see what I mean. She’s very...in your face sometimes.”

“Is she older or younger?” Constance asked, signing now.

“Younger. What about you? Any brothers? Sisters?”

She signed, “Too many to count.”

“What do you mean?”

She grabbed the pen again, and heaved a sigh. My mother married nine times. I have eight half-siblings and God knows how many step-siblings. I’ve long since lost count. She died--Constance paused in her writing, such a short pause he almost didn’t catch it--in an accident. She overdosed on prescription medicine. And alcohol.

Kai rubbed his fist in a circle on his chest. “I’m sorry.”

Constance shrugged and signed, “She was a mess.” She grabbed the pen again and wrote furiously f

or a minute.

My mom was a piece of work. She only ever married soldiers. I’ve lived on fifteen military bases. She told me it was the smart thing to do. That if you were a soldier’s wife, you would always have something to eat, medical care and a roof over your head. But even soldiers don’t like to be used. One would dump her, divorce her, and a couple months later she’d have a new one. She’d either get to them with sex, or get knocked up somehow. Anything to secure another military husband. Another roof over her head.

She stopped a moment and rubbed her chin.

She was like an odalisque, only a lot more lowbrow and sordid.

Constance hadn’t had an easy childhood. That was clear from her words and her beleaguered expression. Kai winked at her to lighten the mood. “So it’s a family legacy, this odalisque thing.”