Page 40 of His Pet

I groan into the pillow. “Liar. You said that last time.” And probably a few times before that.

All right, I changed my mind. I do hate this man.

Cameron laughs and smacks my ass. “What can I say? You just feel too good. Sleep now.”

Whether it’s my exhaustion or the drugs, I’m already sinking back under. I roll over and rest my head on Cameron’s shoulder, drawing in his scent. Sex, clean sweat, and his unique musk. Why does he always have to smell so good? And why does his scent make me feel safe and comfortable?

A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth, and I fall asleep content. Even if my damned ass still hurts.

Chapter 27

Justin

“Justin.”

The soft voice, along with a kiss on my cheek, pulls me out of my sleep. The kiss isn’t scratchy and a fresh scent of Cameron’s aftershave wafts into my nose as he leans closer. He must have already gotten up and shaved. Showered too, probably.

God, I need a shower. I’m covered in cum and sweat, and I’ve drooled all over my arm and my pillow. I’m disgusting, inside and out.

“Juuustiiin.”

I groan and pull the covers over my head. I want a shower, yes, but I also want to sleep more. I might have been out for hours, but I don’t feel rested at all. It might have something to do with Cameron fucking me god knows how many times.

There’s a chuckle and the covers are stolen from me, the warmth I’ve accumulated disappearing with them. I wince as I try to hold on to the blanket, my whole body sore.

“Come on, sleepyhead. I have a surprise for you.”

A surprise. Suppressing the urge to roll my eyes, I give him a tired look. “Is it your cock? Sir?” I tack on, because I really should be treating him with a little more respect. I don’t want him to suddenly decide I’m being too familiar and punish me for it.

Fortunately, Cameron seems to like my grumpiness. He bops my nose like I’m an angry kitten and tugs on my hand. “That would hardly be a surprise,” he says. “Come on. I love seeing you covered in all that cum, but don’t you want to wash?”

Right. The shower. I suppose that’s a good enough reason to get out of bed.

As I sit up, a sudden bout of dizziness catches me off guard and I nearly plop back down on the bed. Cameron steadies me with an encouraging smile. “It’s just an aftereffect of the drugs. It will pass quickly, but you need to drink a lot of water.”

“Uh-huh,” I reply absently, my attention on my aching muscles. Why do I feel like I worked out? As far as I know, I was just lying there. I wasn’t even awake for most of the sex, so it’s not like I actively participated. My muscles have no business being sore. Only my ass does, and boy, does it hurt.

Every time I move, sharp, stinging pain lances through me. To my mortification, there’s also cum leaking from me. The moment I sit up, the sheet under me grows wet and sticky, and I pray it’s only from cum and not something more embarrassing.

Right now, I have no issue hating Cameron, because the bastard finds it amusing. “I filled you up nicely, didn’t I? It’s a good thing you can’t get pregnant, because with that amount of cum, you surely would have.”

Is he for real? “That’s not how biology works,” I grumble. How am I supposed to get to the bathroom without dripping on the floor? I try clenching, but it hurts too much.

Noticing my grimace, Cameron drops his jokes. “How bad is it?” he asks with genuine concern. “I checked and there isn’t any tearing. It should heal fast. I have some lotion for you after your bath.”

That gets my attention. “Bath?”

“Damn, now I’ve spoiled the surprise. Come on, I’ll help you.” With an arm wrapped around my shoulders, Cameron walks me to the bathroom, which is warm and foggy with sweet-smelling steam. The tub is full of water and bubbles, and I can’t wait to get in. I just need to shower first, because the thought of bringing all that mess on me into the tub is sacrilegious.

I don’t feel dizzy anymore, but Cameron still hovers as I shower and insists on helping me get into the tub, even though there are wide, safe steps. The tub is large enough to fit us both with some space to spare, but once I’m in, hissing at the slightly too-hot water, Cameron kisses the top of my head and turns to leave.

“Don’t drown,” he warns, glaring at me from the doorway.

“Yes, Sir,” I sass back, because damn, I feel good.

I know this isn’t Cameron’s way of apologizing, because he doesn’t think there’s anything he should be apologizing for. Keeping people captive and fucking them against their will is completely normal to him and something he feels entitled to for some messed-up reason. However, he didn’t have to do this for me. He doesn’t have to do anything for me, yet he always does. Massaging me, sucking my cock, making sure I come every single time, even if he sometimes makes me beg for it until I feel like I’ll lose my mind.

He’s being so nice to me I’m not sure I can call what’s happening to me abuse. I don’t feel abused. I feel…