“Your bath is getting cold,” I nod at the tub, steam still wafting from the surface.
“It’s perfect.” He smiles. “Thank you, Master.” He blinks as I guide him into the steaming tub. A deep, guttural groan leaves his lips as the water meets his skin, swallowing his toes, his feet, and then his calves. I don’t let go of him until he’s completely submerged in the foamy water, his head leaning back on the edge of the tub that I’ve draped with the softest towel I own. He looks at me, pure bliss in his eyes, lashes fluttering in naked delight. I can make out the shape of him underneath the foam, but I can’t see the individual features, and somehow, it’s the single most erotic moment of my life.
“I’ll order some food,” I manage to say. “Then I’ll be back to wash your hair.” He moans at that image, his cheeks turning a fiery red as he closes his eyes. “Don’t fall asleep now,” I add, raising a brow at him in warning when he opens his eyes again.
“I won’t, East,” he says, his fingers trailing through the water, caressing the surface. And now I’m suddenly jealous of the water and tub holding him when my fingers itch to do the same.Later, I tell myself. Later I’ll be the one to hold him, touch him, smell him. “I promise,” he adds, and I can’t help but hope and want, for the first time in maybe ever, that his promise means everything and anything. Because I want that. Everything and anything with him.
Chapter Ten
Bunny
He washes every inch of my body with a soft sponge, leaving not a single spot untouched until I’m squeaky clean. He starts with my toes and he purses his lips into a semi-smile when I giggle. He’s so handsome my eyes sting when I drink him in. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself, but the real reason is his tenderness. It gets to me. The way he treats me like I’m something delicate and… and valuable. When he bends down and kisses each of my toes, I suck in a breath, in awe of his awe I guess. He continues up the front of my foot, pressing featherlight kisses as he moves towards my ankle. Then he pauses, murmuring something into my skin that I can’t quite catch, but sparks a fire in his blue eyes when he looks up and his gaze connects with mine.
“Did you just whisper something to my ankle?” I chuckle.
“Yes,” he swallows, the cerulean twin flames flickering at me.
“What was it?” I hold my breath.
“It’s a secret,” he says, bending back over my foot, sucking the skin into his mouth, laving at it with histongue. I can’t even be bothered to hold back the squeal that leaves my mouth—I’m enjoying this, whatever it is, way too much.
“What? You have secrets with my ankle now?” I pant. He nods, then moves up my lower leg, nipping at the skin. “Okay,” I hum as I lean back in the warm, fragrant water, letting it soothe me while East worships my body—because I’m pretty sure that’s what he’s doing. Closing my eyes, I give in for the first time in my life. I hand over my power to him, my boss, my master, my East, because for some inexplicable reason, I trust him completely. And, aside from Mr Harvey, I’ve never trusted anyone before. The world has never given me much reason to, least of all, my own family.
Through a misty, orange-blossom haze, I register him lifting my right thigh, carefully sweeping the sponge along its back, then gently along my butt, caressing the crease, lingering there for a few seconds. The air around us becomes heady, almost sizzling, as he strokes the sponge along my crease before continuing to the other side, brushing across my butt cheek, then trailing along my other thigh. He’s quiet and meticulous, like when he works in the shop, pouring warm, velvety chocolate into moulds or decorating delicate pieces with a pair of tweezers. I’ve watched him, sometimes for hours I’m sure, when he enters this sort of trancelike state, creating magic with his hands, a sprinkle of almonds here, a dusting of dry-frozen raspberries there. It’s quite enchanting. Because he does have magical hands, bringing my entire body to this special place right now where there is nothing but raw pleasure and sensation.
“Come,” he hums, reaching out his hands for me, a tender smile playing along his lips. My arms feel heavy as lead when I lift them and he cradles his hands around my elbows, pulling me up. His cheeks are flushed adark pink, drops of sweat beading along the ridge of his nose and across his forehead. His hair curls deliciously from the humidity in the room, and he somehow looks younger than his years. I can’t help smiling as I catch a glimpse of a young East, wondering if he was less grumpy back then, his smiles given more freely.
“What’s so funny?” he glares, squeezing the sponge above my chest, water cascading down my pecs, my ribs, my stomach.
“Nothing,” I moan, the feel of him so close to me doing things to my insides that I’ve never felt before.
“Is that so?” he says, a playful edge to his voice. Then he leans in, pursing his lips as he blows at my left nipple, before sucking it into his mouth, tugging at it with his teeth.
“Oh God,” I moan again, this time in a deep, guttural way that sounds filthy and needy. “East,” I gasp. “What are you…” My mouth fails me, along with the rest of my body, as I give into his lips, his touch, to him, my master. The rest of the world bleeds away, the tiled walls of the bathroom, the tub, everything, until there’s only him and endless pleasure.
From then on, everything becomes a blur, fragments of moments registering when he pulls me from the tub and dries me with a fluffy towel that smells of clean cotton and summer blossom fields. When I’m dry, my skin buzzing deliciously from the contrast between the hot bath and the cool air, he wraps me in a dry, even fluffier towel, lifts me up in his strong arms, and carries me down the hallway and into his bedroom. I’ve lost all track of time, but the room is cast in a dim light from two lamps on his nightstands, so I guess it’s late. He’s pulled the duvet aside, crisp white sheets beckoning at me to just fall into this strange world of warmth andcomfort. The scent of him, a faint memory of his arousal, lingers in the room, stirring my own need for him.
“Darling,” I think he whispers as he presses a kiss to my forehead, then the tip of my nose and finally my mouth. “Darling,” he repeats against my lips, and this time, I know that my mind isn’t playing cruel tricks on me. “My darling Bunny,” he hums as he leans his right knee on the bed and places me down in the middle, arranging my head and my hair on the soft pillow. Then he frowns, a flicker of doubt and perhaps fear appearing in his eyes. There’s an unspoken question on his face, a question that won’t allow him to go any further until I give him my permission. But there’s no doubt in my heart. Not a single shred.
“Please,” I beg him, holding out my arms towards him, spreading my thighs for him. It’s like my body works on its own, under his spell, succumbing to his powerful presence, inviting him in. His expression softens, his eyes once again darkening, as he, too, gives in to the inevitability of the moment. With his knee still resting on the bed, he begins to strip, unbuttoning each button of his shirt carefully. There’s a mindfulness to even this mundane of things; his fingers untucking the hem from his grey trousers, then sliding the fabric down his broad shoulders and toned arms. I suck in a breath, desire pooling in my stomach as my dick swells between my thighs. A groan escapes him, and he hurries to discard the shirt and unbuckle his belt.
“Don’t laugh,” he warns before I even realise that I was about to. “It’s all your fault,” he grits, not a trace of annoyance in his voice.
“Is it?” I pipe up, my neediness knowing no bounds.
“Yes,” he exhales, shaking his head while he slides down his pants, revealing inches and inches of golden skin adorned with soft-looking blond hair. “I’m notnormally like this,” he says as he gets rid of his pants, dropping them on top of his shirt.
“What are you like, then?” I tease, my hand sweeping across my belly and further down towards the sparse scattering of dark hair surrounding my dick.
“Bunny,” he says, suddenly all vulnerable and naked in front of me. “Don’t play with me,” he rasps, his gaze trailing hungrily along my body, down to where my hand is teasing the soft hair. “You know what I’m like,” he says matter-of-factly as he leans in over me, his arms resting on each side of my head, his breath coasting along my chin.
“I do,” I agree. “But I don’t think that’s really you, East.” There’s a boldness rising inside me that grows with each gesture of kindness from him. With each fond word and warm smile, it grows and grows, bursting through my chest and out into the world. Bunny has never been bold before, but I have to admit, I like it. “It’s how you want the world to perceive you, East. All serious and stoic and…” The word escapes me momentarily, his blue eyes and sweet breath distracting me.
“And what?” he asks, a frown digging into the skin between his brows. “And what, Bunny?”
“Untouchable,” I blurt.
“Untouchable,” he repeats, tasting the word on his tongue before nodding. “Yes,” he admits. “Perhaps I am. Or was.” Regret flashes through his eyes. “I don’t want to be, though. At least not to you, my darling Bunny. Never to you.”
