Page 28 of Graciously His

I’m trembling where I sit. “Please.” I swallow. “Can’t I have a minute alone first?”

“No.”

I look into his eyes, pleading, but there’s no mercy in Nate. Only that undimmed, lupine light.

“If you don’t show me, I won’t leave you alone for one second. And I know you have to pee.”

My bladder throbs as I tense my lips into a silent line. I pull my knees apart, just a few centimetres, but it’s enough. Nate slides between my thighs, fingers on my hips.

We’re naked and the bathroom is bright and I can’t do this.

I try to push him away.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he murmurs, catching my wrists. I wince. There’s a ligature of redness from his grip, and I feel similar aches deep within my belly. “I’m going to explain this to you, and I want your attention. Do I have it? Nod yes, Grace.”

Biting my lip, I nod.

“You are mine. That means I will take care of you. Before, during, and after. And you’re never going to refuse my aftercare. Once that’s done, you get a breather then a debrief. That’s how this will always go. Do you understand?”

His words stir something unpleasant within my mind. There’s a structure here, a mental foundation that will help me accept exactly what he’s offering—the kind of care that only comes after the hurt has been installed. Mother taught me this. Nick reinforced it. And now Nate wants the same thing from me: compliance after destruction.

“Fuck you,” I whisper, words I’d never say to Mother or Nick.

I prepare myself for an angry reaction, but Nate surprises me. There’s a dark chuckle rather than an outburst, and a tender hand in my hair rather than a grip at my wrists.

“I love the mouth on you,” he says, conspiratorial and charming. “Run it whenever you want, little heart. See what happens.”

I glare despite my nudity, the cold counter, and the medical atmosphere. Nate’s hands smooth along my thighs, and I realise with biting clarity that I haven’t shaved my legs in weeks.

That’s the last thing I should care about…

Yet it’s the only real thought I have as Nate opens my legs wider. I let my mind go blank as he bends to look at me. He’s seen everything already, but this form of intimacy makes my teeth ache as if I’ve been grinding them all night. I gasp when his fingertips touch my opening.

“Hurts, eh, love?” He withdraws. “You’re not bleeding, but we’re definitely not putting anything inside this pussy for a couple of days.”

“A week,” I correct automatically, my mind pulling up the chart I keep of my monthly cycle.

His brows go up. “This won’t take a week to heal.”

“I keep a chart,” I explain, wanting to set a firm boundary. “I’ll be fertile in a couple of days. No sex for about a week.”

His eyes turn thoughtful. “A chart? Is it on your phone?”

“Why?”

He reaches for a towel, which he wraps around me, covering my nakedness. I pull it tight, sighing at finally being allowed to hide a little.

“Where do you keep the chart, Grace?”

My relief dies. There’s no hiding. Taking in the careful arrangement of his features, I have a sense of premonition, a gathering dark that’ll descend any moment. What does he want with such personal information?

I shrug, then glance pointedly at the door. “You said you’d give me a minute if I let you check me?”

I frame it as a question, unwilling to make it a demand, sensing that doing so might end with the towel being taken away, and my being forced to sit on the toilet in front of him.

Nate acts as if I’ve said nothing.

“It must be a phone app. Or is the chart in your bullet journal, alongside all those orange and blue days?”