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Chapter 18
Itry to stay up waiting for Midas, but halfway through the second movie, my eyes drift closed and I fall asleep on the couch. I’m soon dreaming of dragons and knights and shining treasures hidden in caves.
The sound of a key in the lock startles me awake. A glance at my phone tells me it’s almost three in the morning. Considering how late it is, I’m surprised he didn’t just sleep in his own bed and come to see me later.
Unease makes the back of my neck prickle. The only experience I have with men stumbling in this late at night is the memories of my grandfather coming home drunk after Mets games.
Midas doesn’t seem the type to be out drinking this late, but he definitely staggers as he walks through the door and has to lean on the wall for support. One part of me wants to run to him and help, the other wants to chew him out for making me wait while he was off having a good time.
I stand up and put my hands on my hips. “Where were you?”
He lumpers into the dimly lit living room and crashes onto a knee. I open my mouth to give him a piece of my mind, but that’s when I notice the blood covering his side.
I lower myself in front of him and cup his face. Panic floods my veins as he pitches forward into my arms. “What happened?”
“The Silver Horde.” He repositions himself with a groan so his head is in my lap. His hand brushes over my cheek and comes away wet with tears. “I’ll heal by morning. I just need to rest.”
“Come on. Let’s get you into bed.”
It takes a good deal of effort to get him into my room. He’s in no shape to shower, so I lay a few old towels on the bed, make him strip out of everything but his boxers, and clean the worst of the blood off with a wet rag. The gashes in his side look deep, but they’ve already stopped bleeding. The worst one reopens as I clean it, but closes up again before I get back with bandages. I dress it anyway. Midas scowls while I work. “I’m fine, Jeslyn. Really.”
“I’m doing this for me,” I snap back. I need to do something. My hands are shaking from the adrenaline coursing through me, and the only thing that’s making me feel better is taking care of him, making myself useful, helping.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
Once the worst of it is clean, I turn off the light, throw on an old t-shirt that I don’t care about getting bloody, and crawl into bed next to him.
“This wasn’t how I planned on spending the evening,” he mutters.
I snuggle a little closer. “How did you plan on spending the evening?”
“With my head between your legs. Rewarding you for how well you took my cock this afternoon.”
The wall he leaned against earlier when I made him come is straight in front of me, and my body instantly responds to the memory, despite the current situation. Nipples rising to attention. Mouth watering. Pussy pulsing.
He tries to push up on his elbows, but he’s weak and drops back to the bed. He’s lost a lot of blood. “It seems you’re going to have to take your reward for yourself, my little queen.”
“What do you mean?”
“Take off your shirt.”
I sit up to kneel next to him and do as he says.
“And those.” He points to my underwear without lifting his hand more than a few inches.
I wiggle out of the silk, another of Midas’s gifts, and let them drop to the side of the bed.
“Touch yourself.”
“Right now? Shouldn’t you be resting?”
He brings both hands behind his head, lounging back against the pillows like the king he is. “I am resting.”
Having all his attention on me as I pleasure myself feels scandalous and provocative. It sends a jolt of energy down my spine, making my skin flush.
“Wait,” he says. “First, turn the light back on.”
I hesitate, not sure if I want what I’m about to do to be lit up and fully on display.
