Painting Her Fate
Book 1 in the Tell All Secrets series
by Layla Lochran
In this scene stationed in London, England we see Liliana (Lili) bringing out her wild, domineering side. We are talking a hot, sexy shower scene people! Zane is the lead singer of a band and who is also Lili's occasional bed mate. They agreed in the beginning they would not catch feelings towards the other, but recent events have made someone realize they want to take things to another level between the two of them. Will it end in heartbreak?
Do enjoy this little snippet of my first book, Painting Her Fate, Liliana's Story.
London, England- After the best night at Tally's pub playing for a sold out crowd. - It's time to celebrate.
I enter in the darkened shower room, the shiny midnight blue tile glistening under the color changing lighting from above. Reminds me of stage proformance lighting.
Best to keep the rock star comfortable.
For a short time, anyway.
My body relaxes the second hot pulsing water hits my skin. I sigh in contentment as my fingers rake over my scalp and the scent of lavender fills the confined space. I decide to make my pet wait a few more seconds before calling out to him.
“You may enter, Mr. Morrison.” I state boldly.
There are no surprises now- by using his proper name, he knows what type of mood I am in- what game we shall play this night.
Excited footsteps make their way closer, Zane all but flinging himself into the shower room stall and promptly salivating at the sight before him. He readys himself to lunge at me, however, I’m quick to catch him off guard by tossing a soapy flannel square at his chest. He catches the cloth, glances down at it, then back at me with the look of a confused puppy.
The lad thought he’d get his fill right then and there. How wrong he was.
“Scrub yourself clean,” I begin, my tone turning from stern to cheeky, “there is no time for dirty boys in my playroom.”
Suds begin to fly as soon as the words leave my lips. He is quite eager, so much so he all but misses his eye with soap bubbles in his haste. In no time at all Zane is clean from head to foot and standing centry, water dousing his backside.
"Shall we?" My lips twitch.
Let the fun commence.
Running my artistic hands along the ridges, dips, and valleys of his chest and abdomen, I trace a finger along the black and grey quote on his ribcage, making him squirm and pant with heaty excitement. This sexy rock star isn’t afraid to flaunt his body, and what a body it is. Zane is toned and sculpted, tattooed and pierced in the most exquisite of places, he has this mystic dark hair that is the perfect fist-full length- *inner hum of approval*- and that smirk of his- no wonder why I want to do bad things to this man.
My mistress is ready to play.
Catching him off guard I none too gently push him against the shower wall provoking an excited moan from him. He tries leaning in to kiss my lips, I instead pull back, waggling my finger in front of him in disapproval.
“Ah-ah.” I croon, “Those who follow the rules will be rewarded, Mr. Morrison.”
“My apologies miss Hayes,” he is quick to say in that oh-so gravely- just sung his heart out- way of his, “I shall be better at containing myself.” His palms meet the wall on either side of him showing me he understands the game. He gives my curvaceous body a thorough perusing in the dim lighting- not that he can make out much.
I like it best to be kept shrouded in mystery. It adds to the mood.
“Now, where was I? Oh, yes.”
Sliding down his body, he watches intently at my next move- silently begging me to quicken my pace.
All in good time, love. Don’t you worry.
Steam builds in the room as I take his thick girth in my hands and lazily stroke him up and down, teasing him until he begs for my mouth. His hands ball into fists and he sucks in a sharp breath the same time my tongue flicks his tip.
“Bloody hell, woman. Let's end the game so you can let me fuck your dirty mouth instead” He growls low as his hands leave the wall and comb through my wet hair.
I pull back and my hands leave him, displeasure lacing my every word.
“Tisk. Tisk.” I give another finger wave, “You’re not following orders tonight, pet.” I shake my head back and forth slowly, “Must I remind you what happens when rules are not obeyed?” My lips twitch, “I feel showing you should fix things.”
His hands immediately leave my hair and go back to the wall without a vocal response.
Rule number one: no touching unless I say.
You would think after two years, he would have mastered this.
Is he wanting to be punished this go-around?
Either way, I win. I always win.
The shower room is big enough for me to stretch out, so, for his defiance, that is what I plan to do. Zane will have to stand and watch as I get myself off in front of him. Mind you, I have never done this in front of him or anyone for that matter. This is a first for me, and I feel only further empowerment at the action.
Taking the extended showerhead, I lay back on the warm tile floor, spread my legs open then position my body so he has a full view and so that the water from the shower wand falls exactly where I most desire.
If he touches himself while I get off, he knows the night will end without my assisting him, something he most craves.
I do enjoy being cheeky time to time. It’s far too easy with Zane. I need more of a challenge- someone to give me a spark of what I’m secretly begging for. Someone to take control, not one hundred percent, just enough to satisfy. I need to feel protected.
Well, this showerhead will have to do for tonight.
I begin circling my clit with a finger and let out a moan at the foreign sensations happening to me; the pounding of the warm water swiftly spikes my arousal and allows for the feeling of an audience to fall away from my mind. The sleeping med is kicking in and doing its magic.
I add a finger inside, then two and, *moans* -oh, yes, it feels so good. My moves become quicker and I’m pressing harder and deeper as I try my best to let go and give into the high. Zane has said he loves a woman who is not afraid to show and tell; he gets off on hearing my cries of ecstasy, so much so, I have made him come a time or two without so much as a touch.
Here I am more times than not, perched on the precipice, finding it difficult to reach the peak and fall over into a blissful climax.
Not this time, however. Before I knew it, I was crying out as my orgasm slammed into me and I was sent over the edge far faster than other times before.
Thank you sleeping pill for muddling my thoughts.
As I come down from the high and regain feeling in my extremities, I open my eyes and stare at him through hooded wet lashes, my full breasts heaving up and down and my thighs quivering oh-so very nicely. His hands are balled into fists against the wall and his breathing is short. His cock juts out, harder than ever as he gives it a twitch in my direction, the pierced head practically winking at me.
I raise an eyebrow and gather my wits.
The fierce mistress is ready to come out of her shell.
“Have we learned our lesson, Mr. Morrison?”
His answer is a wide-eyed nod then a bite to his pierced lower lip. No other words are used.
Rule number two: No talking during our sessions.
Too many times before this, men have tried using complements towards me. If anything, whether it be at the bar or during a quick shag, these words turn me off and make me want to knee them straight in their ballocks.
Bloody idiots, the lot of them.
I get to my knees, he then sucks in a sharp breath as I grasp him tightly and put the tip of him directly in my mouth. Swirling my tongue around, the metal from the piercing always feels foreign to me as it hits the back of my throat. He bucks and groans as I take all of him in my mouth, sucking hard, cupping and toying with his sack, knowing what fondling he likes best. When I knew he was close I released him in a pop then jacked him off until he came all over my chest. Zane, like most men out there, enjoys large breasts, and I do not disappoint in that area. It thrills him to see his come all over them.
“Christ, that-was…” *breathy*, “amazing.”
Zane is panting, his head resting against the wall, his body languid and spent as he looks his fill over the mess he made. He enjoys my demanding side and thinks it a quality I should use often with him. So, I do, quite well I might add.
He’s never dared to try and dominate me. He cannot handle this lass- not possible.
However, this is the last time for him and I; it's nothing against him and everything to do with me. If he was to stay with me, there would be nothing but negative press coming his way. He doesn’t deserve that as he's rocketed into the spotlight.
But I know he will not go down without a fight. Can I win this fight?
Thank you for reading! You can find this scene soon in my updated version of Painting Her Fate in ebook, paperback, and audiobook! -Coming to you September 19, 2022!