I nod.
"I'll drip the wax from different heights," he explains. "And in different places over your back and your arms. If it's too hot, let me know. If it's uncomfortable, let me know. If you want to stop—"
"Let you know."
Rory smiles. "I'm sorry. I'm going overboard, aren't I?"
"It's fine." I understand why he is. I'm glad that he wants to look after me. It makes me feel safer. “I’m green, by the way.” My stomach clenches. “Is that right? Am I allowed to tell you that?”
“Yes.” Rory smiles. “That’s a perfect way to use that safe word. It lets me know I’m okay to start or keep going. You can use any of your safe words as often as you want.”
Relief floods through me. “You’re good at this.”
Rory frowns. “At what?”
“Making people feel at ease. I bet you’re a good Dom.”
A slight blush creeps into his cheeks. “Thanks. I should—" He gestures to the candles.
I watch as he picks up one of them. He moves it out of my sight. The first splash of warmth takes me by surprise, even though I was expecting it. It's oddly pleasant as it cools and hardens, stretching my skin. If I move even a few millimetres, I know it will crack and flake off. I suppose that's what the white sheet is for. This is likely to get very messy.
There's a long pause. I assume Rory is waiting for me to safe-word.
“Green,” I say in case he was in any doubt about what my silence meant.
There's another splash, lower than before, warmer, bordering on hot. Then another. It must have been from a lower height because it's the hottest yet. It feels like Rory is drawing on my back, just as I imagined. My muscles relax thanks to the heat. At least I tell myself that's all it is. But as Rory keeps dripping wax over my skin, my eyes drift shut, and I feel like I'm floating. He drips wax along my arms and onto my palms. They're the most sensitive. I twitch my fingers as the hot wax hits my skin. It's a strange sensation but an unexpectedly wonderful one. My pulse becomes lazy, my breathing shallow, as I relax against the mattress. I didn't expect this to feel so divine. Wax splashes over my lower back, my pulse suddenly spikes, and blood pounds to my cock.
My eyes fly open. Heat rushes to my face. It must be as red as a bonfire. Why am I getting turned on? This shouldn't be sexy or sensual. Rory is a man. I’m nothing more than a model right now. And we’re not alone. Yet I can't deny that every drop is making my cock harder.
"Red!"
Rory puts the candle down. "Are you okay?"
I shake my head and roll away from him and Stefan, so neither of them can see my shame and embarrassment. The wax cracks as I move. Flakes of pale green patter onto the bed. I grab my shirt and bolt from the room.
14
RORY
My heart is beating fast. I want to go after Callan, but I'm not sure I should. Something distressed him, and I can't help thinking it was my fault. I look to Stefan.
"Go," Stefan says.
"Maybe you should."
He shakes his head. "You're the one he needs."
"How do you know that?"
Stefan smiles. "I just do. Go."
I don't waste time. I go upstairs, hoping that Callan has gone to his room. I knock softly on his door. "Cal. Would you let me in?" My heart thunders as I wait for him to respond.
He opens the door and then immediately turns away from me. I go inside and shut the door. I want to put my hand on his shoulder to offer him comfort. Who am I kidding? I want to hug him. I want to take away whatever pain he’s feeling.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
I thought he was enjoying himself. He had started tense but had relaxed as I’d dripped wax over his back and arms. Then suddenly, he'd used his safe word. I'm glad he did. I just don't understand what went wrong.
