Was I always meant to find him?
If so…why?
My feet hit the ground, and he begins to drag me by my hair to the bath he made for me. The scents were calming and aromatic—the opposite of the dynamic environment.
Lavender and chamomile, again—are these the only scents he has?
Aside from his morally grey attitude, seeing how much he cares, warms my soul—until my face gets plunged beneath the water. I am bent over the claw-foot tub, as terror hits me and flashes of the accident cross my mind in a cinematic reel displayed in high definition. Panic takes control of my body, as my arms begin to flail, and my legs kick out in all directions. Smacking my knee into the side of the tub as I fight to get free, and in doing so, I open my mouth as a response to the pain. My hands finally grasp the side of the basin—water goes over the edges due to my thrashing, and I slip, only to be slammed back into the water.
The moment of horror lasts a lifetime in my mind. I continue in my pursuit to get free from his grip, and my mouth bursts open again. All the air is released when Oliver rams into me from behind, and I inhale a great deal of water this time. At this point, my lungs become a water-skin for the botanically infused liquid. I don’t noticeright away, with the unexpected distraction, that I am not drowning and that the feeling of fear has been replaced with exuberance.
The sensation of his cock in me, mixed with the horror and PTSD from the accident, forms a dangerously delicious cocktail. They are like two diverse forms of adrenaline competing for control. It isn’t long before the intoxication, from the pounding I am receiving, has me on cruise control. No longer did being submerged in the water scare me.No, I welcomed it.
Once he finally pulls me from the water, he holds me in his arms, shaking me violently. “My dove, please. Please wake up, my dove.” My lashes flutter as my eyes open, and his beautifully broken face is looking down on me. “Oh my gosh, I thought I lost you.” A single tear falls from his eye, like a lone diamond sifted through the sediment of a riverbed after being eroded from its point of origin and washed away, and lands on my lip.
“Did… Did you finish?” I muster.
A small laugh is his response. “That is what you are concerned with right now?” He shakes his head, lowering it slightly before he continues, “No, little bird, but that is ok.”
“Come, let me bathe you.” Cradling me in his arms, he lifts me over the side of the tub, resting my ass on the edge for a moment. The water is nice and warm, inviting even—I didn’t notice that the first time, having formerly been mortified from my initial introduction to it. Before placing me in the water, he strips me of my already wet clothing and tosses them in the sink.
“You will still join me, yes?” I drop my head in an erroneous display of sadness, while keeping my eyes on him as I wait for his response.
“Of course, my dove.” Slipping out of his slacks and into the water, he does something that he hasn’t done since the moment I’ve laid eyes on him—he removes his Scally cap. Locks of hair, as black as a raven's wings, fall from the chasm of darkness that has kept it hidden this whole time—pieces of various lengths sway just above his eyebrows. I feel his index finger push up on my chin, commandeering my mouth to shut. “Catching flies, little bird?” Embarrassed, I release an awkward chuckle. As I move through the water, positioning myself between his legs. “Oliver-”
“Yes, dove?” He brushes my hair from my face. My eyes scan every millimeter of the surreal site before me. The trickling of water adds an appropriate soundtrack. From my periphery, I see him raise a rag to my forehead. I wince at the initial touch but embrace the pressure as he cleans a wound, assuming I got in the garden. The alabaster bubbles that float atop the water disappear, as rose-colored suds fall from the cloth to take their place.
Glancing down, I catch the tip of his dick bobbing just above the water, like a turtle’s head on a lake. I look up, and before he can protest, my lips are around his cock—my face beneath the water afresh. Taking him into my mouth, I press my nose to his stomach. There was something about not being able to breathe that added a sense of thrill to the experience. I slide my lips up and down his length.
He is so fucking incredible.
Little pulses hum under his skin, skating over my tongue—like raw energy through exposed wires, little shocks riding the current to the head of his dick. I pause, swirling my tongue around the tip, running it over the slit, collecting all the pre-come before I drop to the sensitive spot just below the mushroom top, a collection of delicate nerves. I work at it till I feel him jerking beneath me… his grip tightens in my hair… a pounding, drums under the water from him slamming his fist against the porcelain. Then, there is an explosion—I feel it as it slides down my throat. Hot. Thick.
Fucking delicious.
I feel his body collapse, his back briefly suction-cupping to the curve of the tub. The tension that once held his muscles captive has now relinquished its grasp, and his breathing—although it is interrupted on occasion by a small hitch is pacified.
“What… was that?” His voice comes out breathy, “Where… where did that come from?”
The exhaustion hits me as I look up at him… my eyelids are at half-mast, as I snuggle into his chest. Tracing his scars with my fingertips, I soak in the moment, embracing the feeling of belonging. I could stay in this moment for a lifetime, but reality snaps back, “So you said you knew where my sister was?” My head bounces on his chest as I hear a ‘tsk’emanate from over my head.
Lifting my weight to where I am sitting, he exits the tub, never looking back as he disappears into the next room. Exiting the tub, I grab hold of a robe hanging on the wall to the left of the doorway. As I peer into the bedroom, I see he has laid a change of clothes out for me on the bed. In a few strides, I am at the bedside, running my fingers over the silken material before I allow the towel to drop to my feet. I lift the stunning grey gown, slipping my hands between its seams, letting the cloth drop, feeling the fabric cascade over the curves of my body—his eyes are on me, as I glance over my shoulder at him.
He is all covered again, but my eyes have seen the truth, and now I can’t unsee it. Frantic knocking on the door draws our attention from each other. Oliver walks to the door, opening it to find Niven hyperventilating on the other side.
“I had no other choice, sir.” Her hand flies to her chest, an attempt to steady her breathing, “My remedies couldn’t save her.”
“Dove,” He is facing me in seconds. “I need you to listen to me.”
“Wait,” Confusion numbs my face. “It never clicked before.” His hands land hard on my shoulders. “How can she see you?”
“She is a medium, Emory. This is serious.” His hands move from my shoulder to my face, “I need you to listen-”
He plants a soft kiss on the center of my forehead, and I watch as he tries to back away from me, his hands up, palms facing me to keep me calm, “It’s Evelyn.” Trepidation and fear flash in my eyes as the walls are set ablaze with a scintillating deep red light.
An ambulance?
“Sheishere… youlied!!” Pushing past him, I run down the stairs. My eyes are blurring as tears begin to pool, and my vision gets all distorted, causing me to slip on the stairs. My eyes clear, as the liquid falls from my eyes, permitting me to find the front door and throw it open. I am standing on the front steps. The world freezes, as I do when the cold air hits me. Everything is moving in slow motion, and I watch as a dove soars above the yard. My eyes follow it, my vision flowing smoothly with the flight of the bird of peace. It's as though it is guiding my gaze, and it is.
