“But what, my blessing?”
“Will you share the bath with me?”
Henrik sucked in a deep breath. In a rough voice, he answered, “Aye, I will.”
They were both worn down after weeks of perilous travel and close calls, but none of that mattered. Henrik fetched a massive copper tub and set it up in the middle of the living space before he went off to bring in water from an enclosed well off the kitchen. Mabel found soft linens for drying and a large pot for boiling.
As the room was warmed by the roaring fire, so were they by the desire that simmered between them.
With every pot of steaming water they poured into the tub, the anticipation grew.
“You should get in first,” she offered, suddenly self-conscious.
Henrik nodded, but he didn’t begin to strip right away. Instead, he stepped around the steaming copper bath to settlehis hands on her hips. “Let’s undress together,” he suggested. “That way we’re equal in this, as we are in all things.”
Mabel looked up at him. Her throat was tight with nerves when she whispered, “I’ve never done this before.”
“Aye, I guessed.” He stooped to press soft kisses to her cheeks and brow, tracing a path down to her lips. “There’s nothing to fear. What we do or don’t do, all that matters is that we’re together. If all we share is a bath, I will be happy.”
Mabel turned her head slightly, desperate to keep his lips and breath and skin near. “How do you have so much patience for me?”
“Because,” he whispered, fingers beginning to gently pull apart the layers of her scavenged clothing, “I’ve known the worst of the world. When the best stands in front of me, what complaints can I have?”
Her breath caught. Henrik’s hands, so callused and scarred, were careful as he slowly undressed her. Steam from the bath kissed the skin he exposed, and then so did he.
By the time he’d discarded his own clothing, her worries seemed small and unimportant. They certainly couldn’t stand up to the image of him, as tall and broad as a mountain, standing nude before the fire.
Slate gray skin criss-crossed with scars stretched over thick slabs of warrior muscle. Those swirling tattoos drew her eyes to the mass of his shoulders and chest. A faint trail of dark gray hair trailed down from his strong stomach to draw the eye to a heavy, erect cock framed by muscular thighs sprinkled with hair.
A finer specimen of a man did not exist in the world, and he held his darkened hand out to her.
Henrik climbed into the hot water before he guided her to settle in front of him. She was acutely aware of him against her back, and the length of that cock pressing urgently against her backside, but he wasn’t in a rush. He stoked her desirewith gentle touches and exploratory swipes of the washcloth. He scrubbed her hair and ran his claws through the tangles, smoothing out the snarls until it ran in a smooth, wet curtain down her back.
When it was his turn, she took a deep breath and stood up. Water sluiced down her body, its path followed by hungry hazel eyes, before she sank back down into the warmth — straddling him.
Henrik grunted, his hands settling onto the soft flesh of her hips and backside, as the ridge of his cock found its way unerringly to the wet warmth of her cunt.
Chest rising and falling with rapid breaths, she began to wash him, too. But it wasn’t like the hundreds and hundreds of baths she’d given patients. There was no clinical separation.
There was only appreciation and the marvel of him, her Henrik, who allowed her the time to learn him at her own pace.
Mabel carefully shielded his eyes from the water she poured over his hair, rinsing out the soap she’d scrubbed into his scalp. When he was clean of suds, she dropped the cup onto the floor and stroked his jaw. Her thumbs brushed water from his cheeks and brows in reverent swipes.
“Thank you for saving me,” she murmured, rocking her hips a little. Friction, delicious and forbidden, sent a shock of pleasure up her spine.
Henrik’s hands snaked between them. They cupped her damp breasts, gently squeezing and rolling her pert nipples, then moved down. His fingers slid across her trembling stomach before they found the slick skin of her cunt.
“I’ve done nothing except return the favor,” he rumbled, stroking the bundle of nerves she was so used to touching alone in the dark of night. Her eyes fluttered closed as her hips rocked into his hand, seeking more.
Henrik’s fingers swirled, gliding through water and her own wetness. She could feel him watching her intently, but even if she couldn’t, she would’ve known. His cock, huge and hard and hot against the entrance of her body, throbbed with every pass of his fingers.
Curling the fingers of his free hand around the back of her neck, he dragged her down for a deep, probing kiss. Speaking into her mouth, he growled, “I’ll have one release before we leave this bath.”
Mabel dug her fingers into his shoulders. Her magic hummed beneath her skin, a melody of contentment that grew louder and louder as the tension in her belly increased. Henrik wasn’t rough with her, but he was relentless. His fingers never grew tired or missed a beat. He pulled an orgasm from her with terrifying skill.
Her shoulders curled and her cunt clenched hard as it rolled through her. The aftershocks hadn’t even begun before Henrik’s growled and swept her into his arms. He stood up from the bath, carelessly splashing water across the stone floor.
Nude and dripping, he carried her down a short hallway to another room she barely saw. Stars still glittered in her eyes when he parted heavy curtains to lay her in a strangely shaped bed.
