Page 107

The water is the perfect temperature, soothing the ache in my muscles.

Annie steps in front of me, a frown line appearing between her eyes as she focuses as if she’s dismantling a bomb while she peels the dressing on my side off.

I glance down at the stab wound and other cuts, thinking they’re not too bad. The damage could’ve been a lot worse.

As Annie squirts bodywash into her hands and she carefully begins to glide her palms over my skin, I can’t stop my cock from growing rock hard.

She looks down, then back at my face.

Shrugging, I say, “I’m a little bruised, not dead.”

A chuckle bursts from her. “Glad to hear that, my wolf.”

Hearing her call me that makes warmth burst in my chest. “I like it.”

“The way I’m washing you?” she asks, taking great care around my wounds.

“No, you calling me your wolf.”

Her smile softens, and she doesn’t rush to get me clean, but takes her time. She grabs more bodywash, then she kneels in front of me and begins to wash my legs, her palms moving seductively up and down.

Straightening up again to get more soap, her eyes lock on mine as her fingers curl around my cock, and it jerks, desperate for more.

“You’re doing such a good job,” I praise her.

“Yeah?”

I nod, and when she slips her hand down and cups my balls, air hisses from me. “Such a fucking good job.”

Gripping my cock tighter, she strokes me hard while gently caressing my balls.

“I love where this is going.” The words rumble from me as pleasure builds in my abdomen.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” she says, her tone teasing.

“Don’t you fucking dare stop.” When her hand moves faster, I look down, drinking in the erotic sight of her fingers wrapped around me. Pleasure builds, and my body tenses, drawing a groan from me. “So fucking good.”

I begin to thrust, and gripping Annie behind the neck, I keep staring into her eyes as she strokes an orgasm from me.

Once the pleasure fades, she says, “Did you like your massage?”

A wolfish grin spreads over my face. “You can massage me every day.”

Looking pleased, she makes sure all the suds are rinsed off my skin before she quickly washes her own body.

Turning off the faucets, she orders, “Get out so I can dry you.”

I do what she wants and feel taken care of and loved when she gently pats my chest and side dry. I keep watching her, addicted to the way she moves.

She opens a fresh dressing and carefully sticks it over the stab wound, double-checking to make sure she did it right.

Feeling like the luckiest man alive, I whisper, “Thank you, my light.”

“Anything for you.” She shrugs like it’s nothing, but then she suddenly leans her forehead against my left pec and sucks in a shuddering breath. “I was so scared I’d lose you. I never want to feel that again.”

“You won’t lose me,” I assure her, pulling her into a hug until her naked body is pressed to mine.

“Careful, I don’t want to hurt you,” she chastises me, while trying to pull back.