“What now?” I ask after several long moments.
“Now, I clean you up,” he replies. “A quick shower, and then a nice long soak in a warm bath.”
“I don’t think I can walk,” I admit.
I feel his smile more than see it. “I know. That’s why I’m here.” He slowly removes his arms and scoots to the edge of the bed. Cold overwhelms me, and the intense vulnerability comes crashing back; tears well in my eyes. I don’t like this sub-drop thing very much. It’s making me clingy, and I’m not a clingy person.
Dorian stands from the bed and leans over to gently scoop me up in his muscular arms. He carries me in a princess-hold as he walks to the bathroom, flicking on the lights with his elbow. After setting me on the counter, right between the sinks, he turns on the shower. He waits a few seconds and tests the temperature of the water, then begins to strip. I watch as inch after inch of smooth, tan skin is revealed. His body is something sonnets should be written about; each of his muscles are perfectly-honed. His biceps bulge and his six-pack almost hints at aneightpack. A dusting of dark hair trails down his naval, leading to a gorgeous cock that peeks out of his boxers. When he catches me looking at him, he smirks.
I avert my gaze; he chuckles. “Stare all you want, baby. It’s all yours.”
I like the sound of that. I remind myself that I shouldn’t get attached. Just because we had a scarily intimate scene and I enjoyed a day-date with him doesn’t mean that what we have is long term. At some point soon, I’m going to need to sit him down and have a seriousconversation about what this thing between us is, and what it can amount to. As much as I’m finding I like him and wecouldfit together, I don’t see him as part of my life moving forward. I’m going to vet school, and he’s going to stay embroiled in gang wars and criminal activities. Those two things can’t possibly click.
I don’t want to talk about it now, though. Right now, I just want to be close to him. As if sensing my train of thought, Dorian plants a kiss on my lips before moving to the marble bathtub and turning on the faucets. He selects a vial of blue liquid that stands on the edge of the tub, drizzles in a bit of it, then scoops me up and takes me into the shower.
Patiently and with something bordering reverence, he holds me up with one hand while using the other to wash my hair. He lathers it with a shampoo that smells of cedar and sandalwood, massaging it into my scalp, and rinses it out. The same process is repeated with conditioner, before he takes his time washing my body with a body wash that smells like an enticing mix of fresh mint and sage. I like the way he washes me with the utmost care and attention. When he gets to my pussy, I whimper, and he kisses my shoulder. “I know it’s sore,” he murmurs. “I’ll put some cream on it before we head to bed for the night, it should soothe the worst of the aches.” He’s even gentler with my pussy than he is with the rest of my body, though no less thorough. He kneels as he rubs my legs, even my feet, planting kisses on my skin as he goes along.
He washes himself as a quick, succinct afterthought and carries me to the tub, which is about two-thirds full and brimming with bubbles from the serum he poured into it. He turns off the faucet and helps me in, climbing in behind me.
I don’t think a man has ever given me this much attention. I know that no one’s ever cared for me enough to wash me like I’m a delicatedoll made of glass. I feel worshipped and valued, sensations that could easily become addictive if I’m not careful.
When Dorian climbs in behind me, settling me between his legs, I feel the press of his erection against my back. He’sstillhard—so hard it must be painful.
“Let me take care of you,” I murmur, turning around and wrapping my fist around his length, trying to keep my eyes from widening when my fingers can’t touch. His thickness is… alot.
“No,” he shakes his head. “Not tonight. I’ll get myself off later, or in the morning. Tonight’s about you, not me.”
I blink slowly.
I know this isn’tentirelyselfless on his part; he got a fuck-ton of pleasure from what just happened, but he didn’t get what most men chase—release. He’s hard as a steel pipe and Iknowhe wants me, but he’s making no move to get his own orgasm. He won’t even let me jerk him off. In a way, that scene was aboutbothof us; him showing me what he likes and what turns him on, me getting thoroughly punished for what he sees as an indiscretion.
My eyes start to droop after a few minutes in the bath, and I go lax against Dorian’s chest. It doesn’t take long for me to fall asleep, right here in the bathtub, lulled into darkness by my own exhaustion and the feel of his heart beating against my back.
Chapter Twenty-Three
In the morning, I wake up before Dorian. He’s behind me, an arm slung around my waist and a strong leg curved over mine, wrapped around me like some sort of barnacle. Although I don’t thinkhe’sawake, a certain part of his anatomy is—I feel his erection pressing insistently against my back, demanding attention. A quick shift of my thighs reveals what I already suspected; I amsore. Not as sore as I expected to be, I should be able to go about my daily activities, though I’m quite certain I’ll wince each time I sit.
I bite my lip when Dorian’s dick thickens even more, nudging against my skin, almost demanding to be satiated. I don’t know what kind of headspace he’s in today—he said that punishing me last night alleviated his anger, but he might’ve been exaggerating. Maybe a wakeup call in the form of a blowjob will put him in a better mood and give me a higher chance of him allowing me to go about my usual Saturday tasks. Baking for my wolf pack and maybe even making a midnight trip to visit them.
I alsowantto go down on him. I want to find out what he tastes like, what he feels like, the noises he’ll make whenhecomes. I don’t understand the intimate mechanics of the whole pleasure-dom thing, but surely he enjoys getting off just as much as he enjoys gettingmeoff.
Slowly, carefully so as not to wake him, I shift my position, pressing my ass back against his erection. I’m only wearing a long shirt, something he must’ve dressed me in after I passed out in the bathtub, and he’s only wearing what feel like very thin boxers.
His hard-on hardens evenmore, and my eyes widen as I swallow. I saw Dorian’s size last night when we showered, but that was a brief glimpse. I knew he was big, but this feels… intimidatingly big. Substantially bigger than any of the guys I’ve slept with before, and probably more than my sore pussy can handle at present, or possiblyever.
I want to try getting him in my mouth. See how far down my throat I can manage to take him.
I grind back against him again, and his arm around my waist tightens as he releases a low, sleepy groan. Smiling, I gently grab his arm and try to remove it from me; that has the adverse effect of making his hold on me contract.
“I hope you’re not just planning to tease me,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick with sleep. It’s an intimate bedroom-voice that raises the hairs on my arms and makes me give a faint shudder of pleasure.
“Turn around,” I tell him. “Lie on your back.”
“Giving commands now?” Dorian sounds vaguely amused. “I prefer to be the one tellingyouwhat to do when we’re in bed together.”
“I’ll do my best to blow your mind,” I say honestly, grinding into him again and drawing a hiss from his lips. “Turn around, Dorian.”
“Mmm. I guess I’m willing to see where this goes.” He presses a kiss to my shoulder and another to the back of my neck before releasing me. I hear the rustling of sheets as he follows my directions, and when I rise up to my knees, I’m treated to the sight of him shirtless, with the morning sun illuminating his body. He’s wearing a pair of boxer briefsthat sport a considerable tent in the center, making anticipation and a touch of worry rise up in me.
