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Arousal flushes through my body and the steamy showers suddenly feel far too warm. I glance up at Crulden, but his head is forward and he's not looking anywhere. He's just standing under the spray, letting it cascade over his head, one hand still on the tile. He looks a little tense, but who wouldn't be with someone rubbing soap on your backside? I trail the cloth over his skin, choosing my words carefully. "I don't want you to think I'm using you. Your body is yours."
A laugh chokes out of him. "If this is your idea of using me, Mina, I am all for it."
I smile at that.
"I am just grateful you want to touch a hideous beast like me at all. I appreciate your help." His tone has changed, becoming a bit harder, as if he's trying to distance himself. "Thank you."
My smile quickly changes to a frown. "You're not a hideous beast."
Crulden doesn't respond.
Is that how he sees himself? As some sort of monster? I wish he could realize how I see him—as a thing of beauty, a work of art sculpted from a hodgepodge of elements to create something powerful and yet still capable of being gentle and intelligent. Strong. Full of feelings. More than just a killing machine. I run the cloth over his backside, unable to help myself. I rub in gentle circles, touching him. "You're not a beast."
"I am their pet monster. I know this. You know this." He shrugs, sending a spray of droplets over my already soaked shift. "I was bred for this. That's why they're so angry when I don't comply. What good is a monster if he won't attack on command?"
My heart aches. I'm the reason he “attacks on command.” I hate that I've been put into a position to hold him captive. I hate that he feels like he has to be a leashed monster just to spend time with me. I hate that he sees himself as a beast most of all. Maybe he was in the beginning, but that's not how I see him now. I slide the soapy cloth over his hip, and as I do, I catch a glimpse of his cock twitching again. The head of it is flushed a deep shade, and covered in droplets that I suspect are not entirely from the water. It strains as I pause, and Crulden puts his other hand on the tile, too, as if to stop from touching himself.
Suddenly, I know what I want to do.
If I do this, though, it's going to change everything between us. Do I tear down our careful relationship to give him a moment's pleasure? I study his profile, his strong jaw jutting, the tusks pushing out and distorting his mouth, his blunted nose and heavy cheekbones that lead to a plated brow and a pair of horns that are nothing like the gilded ones that the scientist and Lord Sir wear with flourish. If I do this—and I want to do this—I could fuck everything up.
But being a slave has taught me that you take what you can today, because tomorrow might be a brand new fuck-over. Might as well not live with regrets.
"You're not a beast," I say again, and move to his side. I slide the cloth over the front of his hip, my movements deliberate as I gaze up at him. "You're beautiful to me."
And I slide the cloth—and my hand—over to his cock and grip the base of it.
Crulden's breath rasps. His claws make a scratching sound on the tile and he looks over at me, incredulous, as if he can't believe what I just did.
Hell, I'm not sure I believe I did it either, but I'm enjoying myself too much to stop.
I slide under one of those braced arms, until I'm directly in front of him. He towers over me, the water getting both of us wet now, but that seems trivial. I'm not cold. There's so much heat in the air—and between us—that I feel warm all over. Crulden's gaze is locked on mine, breathing heavy, and he doesn't move a muscle. He's waiting for me.
Slowly, I stroke the cloth up and down his length, soaping him up. "Should I stop?"
He swallows hard and then shakes his head slightly.
"Tell me if I do something that doesn't feel good," I say to him. "If the cloth is too rough. If I'm too rough." I keep my words even and calm, even as I slowly work the soapy cloth up and down his shaft. I've never dealt with foreskin before, but I've heard it can help with a hand job, so I squeeze tight and drag my fist up and down his length.
"Mina," he growls, and it's the sexiest thing I've ever heard.
Crulden's eye contact is unwavering, and it's the most erotic thing I've ever experienced. He stares at me like he wants to devour me whole, all the while I work his cock with the soapy towel. My strokes start out slow and steady, but I increase the speed as I gain confidence. Touching him is turning me on, knowing that I've got control of this enormous, dangerous man. That my touch brings him so much pleasure.
