Consciousness comes back slowly as I stretch. My limbs feel heavy, and sleep is still pulling me under. The effects of the strong pain medicine, and possibly the oil Stone rubbed into my abdomen. Waking up surrounded by his scent feels amazing.
I don’t know if I’ve forgiven him for the way he treated me during my tattoo. I swore I was going to stay away from him, but what happened last night makes that day feel far away. The way he took care of me is something I’m still struggling to fully process. I can’t help but compare him to Reed. I was with him for months. He saw my pain, but largely left me alone. Separating himself from my pain. Jace knows about my condition. Kingsley knows as well, but I’ve always weathered it alone. I crawl into bed and I deal. Not that they didn’t help in their own way, but Stone went above and beyond. He was front and center of my misery.
My neck feels hot thinking about the bloody orgasm he gave me with no hesitation. And it helped. After my orgasm, the intense cramps did ease somewhat. That, combined with everything else he did, shortened the time I spent in pain.
Sitting up, I look around, still in disbelief that I’m in Stone’s bed. It’s weird, but this feels even more intimate. I can smell the faint smoke and his delicious cologne. I lift the sheet and sigh. I’m definitely done for. They smell like fabric softener and him.
Pushing my hair out of my face, I grimace when I feel a crazy knot. I didn’t wear my bonnet, and now my long hair is going to be a headache to detangle.
I flick back the shit and scoot to the edge, swing my legs over the side of the bed. I stand and press my hand to my lower abdomen. Still crampy, but not as bad as yesterday. My dysmenorrhea is outrageous the first day and a half, but now I should be okay. It’s quiet and I wonder where he is. His apartment is bigger than mine. There is a full bathroom in his room, and I wonder if he has another beyond his bedroom.
I take in his bedroom. It’s plain, Spartan almost. White walls. King-size bed. One dresser. One small table. One window. There is nothing on the walls. No personal effects.
I tiptoe to the bathroom and blush when I remember what happened last night. Memories of me gripping his shoulders, as I stood in his tub, crying out while he made me come flash through my mind. A brazen part of me wishes Stone would do what he did last night and then make me come again. But I don’t have to empty the disc yet, and the shy part of me is not sure I’m brave enough to ask him, even if I want to. It was shocking, the level of intimacy he forced on me. And I let him.
Sitting on the toilet, I pee and look around. The bathroom is just as sterile as his room. White on white on white. Finishing up, I flush the toilet and head to the sink. His shirt hangs off me, and I wonder if I should head back to my apartment and change. I scoff. The man already saw my pussy up and personal. Giggling, I wash my hands. I’m tempted to open his medicine cabinet and see what’s inside, but I don’t. As much as I wantto know about Stone, it’s wrong. Just because he gave me two mind-blowing orgasms doesn’t mean I need to stalk the man.
Stepping back into his room, I look at the closed door. I don’t hear a thing beyond it. Maybe he left? The man is like smoke. Here one minute and evaporating the next.
Opening his door, I exit, only to be met by the sight of him across the doorway in his kitchen. His tall, intimidating form was leaning against the sink, his back to me. Jesus, his back. It is covered in tats. I knew he was covered, but the sight of his broad back and shoulders covered in designs makes me catch my breath. There is a giant owl tattoo, black wings open, spanning his back. The face of the owl makes me shiver. Eyes that feel like they are looking into your soul stare at me. The curved beak is holding something that resembles cloth. Below it is a skull with dark, cavernous eyes and an open mouth with jagged, broken teeth. The owl’s talons curve around the skull. It’s gorgeous, and my fingers itch to touch it. The shading is incredible.
As soon as I move, he turns, leaning against the counter, watching me. His front is just as sexy as his back. Every muscle in his chest and stomach is outlined. The only free space is right under his rib cage. It’s devoid of any tattoos or marks, and I wonder why. He watches me, and I’m rooted to the floor. His eyes travel down my body, and I feel that heated look deep in my bones. “Come.”
I blink at his command. Well, shit, that was hot. Then I frown, crossing my arms. “I’m not a dog, you know.”
“No, but you’re a brat. Seems you are feeling better. Last night you were very compliant.”
Sure was.I squeeze my legs together, hoping Stone doesn’t notice. I can’t seem to forget how obedient I was, letting him bathe me and…Stop thinking about it, Cam.
“I was wondering when that snotty tone would return.”
“If I’m a brat, then you’re a bastard. That makes us even,” I quip, rocking on my heels.
He smiles and then crosses his arms, “I won’t ask you again.”
Still, I don’t move, liking the control I feel by denying him. The smirk doesn’t leave his face, but his eyes glitter in the kitchen.
“I’m not nice when I teach lessons, Countess. I take what I want, when I want, and you won’t be able to tell me no.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’ll be gagged.”
Jeezus.My pussy shouldn’t be volunteering for tribute like this. I should be scared, but for some reason, I can’t find any fear. In its place is only fascination. And an inner voice dares me to play with fire. He’s eaten me out while his friend heard me come, finger fucked while my period blood dripped down his hands. I have zero shame with him, and honestly, I like it. The illicit. The secrecy. A rebellion that has nothing to do with my father, but with me, liking the darkness in him. It makes me want some of that darkness, too. “With what?”
He tilts his head to the side and watches me. “With whatever I want. My cock, my fingers, your clothing.”
I must be sick in the head, because it sounds sexy as hell. He lifts an eyebrow, waiting for my response, but I’m going to keep my mouth shut. The man is clearly okay with period sex if last night is any indication.
I recall his macabre yet sexy statement.“Sex is messy, Countess, and I’ve been covered in blood before.”
Now I wonder when he was covered in blood. For some reason, I don’t think he means period blood.
And last night I felt much better after climaxing, but I’ve never had full-on sex on my period and couldn’t even imagine it with the heaviness of my flow. I do have my disc in, and they do say you can have sex with it in, but I don’t think itwould be a match for sex with Stone. At least not the type of sex he just alluded to. Something tells me sex would be beyond imagination. I’d be way too self-conscious. The soft, almost sweet fingering he did last night wasn’t like the first time in his tattoo chair. That time was rougher and more aggressive, and although I liked last night, I want what he did before. I want him to slap my pussy like he did before. I want the rough way he sucked my clit while his fingers curled inside me.
I walk forward until I’m a few feet from him. He shifts and picks up a cup of coffee, handing it to me.
“I only have black coffee.”
