I open my mouth, panting, refracted drops of water hitting my face, inside my mouth, trickling from my lips.
“Now,” he growls, pressing and holding his palm against me as a deluge of pleasure overtakes me, spinning out of control as I gasp for air, my cunt clutching around his fingers so hard I’m surprised his knuckles aren’t pulverised.
As the shudders lessen, he pumps them in and out of me one last time, then raises them, sucking his forefinger clean before shoving his middle finger deep into my open mouth.
I suck, so ineffective that he chuckles, then helps me manoeuvre my legs down so I can stand. They’re far too wobbly and I use the wall to hold me steady.
Not that Lachlan would let me fall. His arm is around my waist, then his hand slips down to grab a handful of my arse, squeezing until I moan.
When at least half of my brain has returned to duty, I reach down, wanting to return the favour. But Lachlan catches my hand before I can encircle him, raising it up to cover it in kisses. “Not yet. While I’m out today, I want to think of all the things I’d like you to do to me, then when we meet tonight, I can take you through each one in detail.”
A pulse resumes in my clit at the thought, eyes fixing on his in delight.
“Now, get clean,” he orders, pushing me ahead of him to stand in the spray. “We’ve got an entire day to plan.”
“Yes, sir.”
His thick fingers grip where my neck meets my shoulder. “Careful,” he mutters in such a low tone that my aural cavity is ecstatic. “Keep addressing me in such a tempting way and we might never get out of here.”
I’m not putting up any protests but Lachlan steps out of the shower, grabbing a towel and roughly drying himself while he eyes the solo show he left behind.
When I turn the water off, he’s waiting with a towel for me, watching carefully as I dry myself, patting over the areas where I’m bruised, abraded, or cut.
Once finished, he takes the towel from me and sits me on the cold bench, the difference in temperature making my skin zing. He searches through the cabinet, then pulls out a first aid kit, soaking some gauze with antiseptic before he dabs it across the knife marks.
“You want a bandage?”
“Are you applying one?” He shakes his head. “Then I don’t need one, either.”
When I hop down and turn, he frowns at the discoloration marring one side of my face, pressing a gentle kiss against it. “I’m such a failure. I should protect you, and instead you were hurt.”
“You’re not bubble-wrap,” I argue, worried at his tone, like he might take my injuries to heart. “It’s not your job to keep me safe. The world hurts sometimes.”
“It shouldn’t. I never want you to spill another tear in pain.”
He’s so insistent, I can’t argue. I don’t understand why he needs this so much, but I want to give him as much as I can. “I promise whatever happens, you’ll be the only one I ever let kiss it better.”
Lachlan laughs against my neck, sending pleasurable tingles across my skin. “Chief Kisser Betterer.”
“Exactly.” I lay my palm flat against his cheek, staring adoringly into his eyes. “What else does a girl need?”
What she doesn’t need is for this moment to end, but it inevitably does. We arrange that I’ll come to Kingswood when I’m finished with work. If Lachlan’s not there, he won’t be far away.
My heart is full as I wave him goodbye, sending him off to fulfil his quota of dastardly deeds for the day. I sigh as I return to my room, half tempted to fall into bed and have another dose of sleep—just what the doctor ordered.
Instead, I pull off the beautiful jewellery, depositing it in my top drawer, keeping just my mother’s rings on my hand. I’ll have to find a better hiding place for everything later.
Once I change into my work clothes and paint half a tube of concealer across my face, I head off to catch the bus to work.
While travelling, I have a secret smile on my face. Ducking my head to hide the bruises, I glance at the solitary travellers, wondering if they also have lovers stashed away at home.
My feet float as I complete the short walk from the bus stop to Patrick’s club, the dim lighting in the back corridor welcome after the harsh midday glare.
I last all of two minutes in the cards room before Patrick pulls me into his office. “Okay, so first off, give me the number of whoever beat you up and I’ll kick the living shit out of them. Second, you can’t come into work looking like that.”
My hand goes to the bruise over my eye.
Despite starting localised, it keeps spreading and darkening, claiming more and more of my face as its own. By the time I reapplied my concealer in the staff changing room, the discoloration had spread from my forehead to level with the tip of my nose, staining half my cheek.
