“No.”
I drop my hands and face away again. I don’t have the mental wherewithal to fight him. He slowly, calmly unravels my hair until it hangs in crimped waves along my back. The braid was heavy. I feel some of the tension leave my scalp and neck. I yelp when he swings me up into his arms and steps into the shower with me, setting me on my feet. He turns on the shower. Warm water falls from the large shower head above us. It hits the top of my head and shoulders. I lean into him, resting on his chest, like a puppet ready to be manipulated. The water heats up, and soon steam rises, cocooning us.
He adjusts the shower-head, aiming it at my back, and pulls me closer, tilting my chin up and turning my face from left to right. A washcloth appears in front of my face, and I study him as he wipes my face and chin. He moves the terry cloth gently up to my forehead.
“Close your eyes.” His voice is deep, coaxing. Sexy.
I close my eyes, and he continues to move the fabric up and down, over my eyelids, collecting what must be mud and debris. The cloth dabs at my puffy lip that I hit when he tackled me. It stings, and when he touches it with his tongue, I open my eyes and tremble when he glides his tongue over my injury. He pulls back, and I pull my lower lip in, tracing the spot he just touched with my tongue.
Stone’s nostrils flare while he stares at my mouth. He reaches behind me and picks up a bar of soap from the cutout, rubbing it slowly on the cloth, creating a delicious-smelling lather. Something fresh and clean. He smooths the washcloth along my arms. Then he moves gradually on my chest, touching the wounds. I flinch when he touches the cut on my chest. It’s deeper than the others. The blood coagulated earlier, but as he runs the cloth along the cut, I feel the moment the wound re-opens and blood flows down, mixing with water. Pink flows down the drain. Stone leans forward and kisses the newly reopened skin, running his tongue along it. He’s tasting my blood, and it should gross me out, but there’s something insanely erotic about it. He continues to lick up my neck, lapping at the cut and then moving that eager tongue back down. He lifts his head and cradles my breast in his hands, stroking my nipple with his thumb.
Coils of desire inside me when he washes my other breast. The water washes the suds away, and his warm mouth wraps the nipple, sucking vigorously. I hold onto his bicep and stand on my tiptoes, unwittingly imploring him to take more, give me more.
“Open your legs.”
The words startle me from my focus on the pleasure from his mouth. Automatically, my legs open. He pulls back and slides the washcloth down to my pussy, washing it. I look down and watch as he washes away all the dirt and blood, using a cloth-covered finger to wash inside my pussy.
Suddenly, I realize that his bare, his uncovered dick was inside me earlier. In the forest, I was shameless, savage for him to fuck me, but now in the shower with the water cleaning my body, reality re-inserts itself, settling in my brain. We didn’t use protection. “We didn’t use a condom.”
He doesn’t pause his movements, but looks in my face, raising an eyebrow. There’s humor in those dark depths. “And?”
“And?” I don’t know how to take his humor. Especially while his washcloth-covered finger was leisurely cleaning my pussy. “I—We?—”
“I don’t have anything.”
It’s a relief, but if I’m honest, I didn’t think he did. I’ve come to realize there’s an inner core of integrity inside him. He wouldn’t lie, not about that. He’s not like Reed. His fingers slow down, swirling slowly around my clit. The texture of terry cloth feels good against my sensitive skin.
“Me either. I’m on birth control.”
“I know.”
His answer leaves me dumbfounded for a moment. “How do you?—”
The command to turn around interrupts me, and then I’m too busy wincing when he opens my ass. I put my hand on the tile wall. He thoroughly washes my anus. Removing his cum. I look down again, and there is more pink water flowing down the drain. My ass is painful from him fucking my ass, but I like it. God, I like the nasty things he did. I like that soreness that came from him impaling the handle of that big knife in my ass. I push back against his fingers, wanting him to slip it inside, so I can feel the pleasure pain again. I moan, and he pushes my back down, and I bend. When his tongue touches my anus, I lift my head and cry out, clawing at the tile.
“Fuck me. Please put your dick inside me,” I beg, my voice not sounding like my own. My throat is sore from screaming, both when he caught me and then when he fucked me. He hunches over me and bites my shoulder. The water rains down on us, dripping into my eyes, my mouth.
“You want my cock, Countess?”
“Yes.” I want to hate him, honestly, I do, but the way he speaks to me makes me feral. He wants to humiliate me and insult my wealth. I should tell him to fuck off and leave, butthe way he fucks me feels too good. It’s nasty and triggers that agonizing desire.
“You will, Countess. On your knees. On your back. With my cock in your mouth, your pussy and later in your ass. My fingers and my tongue are going to be all over your body. Now, beg.”
“No.”
He laughs, the vibration going through me, as his big body shakes.
“Fuck you.”
He slaps my pussy and I moan. Licks of fire burn my skin, and I feel even wetter than before. “Fuucckk.” I grind back into him, wanting him to slip his dick inside me, offering me more of that heady mix of pain and pleasure.
“You see, Countess? You like the pain. It turns you into a supplicant, ready to beg for my cock.”
He touches my chin, turning my face to the side. The look in his eyes sucks me in, making the pulsing in my core stronger. He has complete control. He nips at my chin, and his hands go up to my throat, squeezing softly. There it is. The implied threat. The edge of violence I’m craving.
“I’m waiting. Let me hear you.”
I do as he says, letting go. “Please.”
