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When the water was hot, I grabbed a cloth from the vanity, soaked it through, and then grabbed a towel. Seeing her on the side of the bed, listlessly dressing, had more rage swirling inside me.
“Get back on the bed. Now,” I snarled. I didn’t care that I’d made her jump, I just wanted her to obey.
I could only imagine what she was thinking, but at my bark, she did as bid.
Fuck, she got to me. I loved her like this, but I wanted the fire that was on her head as well as on her pussy to come to the fore, too.
I liked a woman bare down there. Nothing to get in the way of my teeth, lips, and tongue. But Aoife? I liked her trimmed. I wanted proof that I was fucking a genuine redhead, and my mouth watered, knowing I’d be tasting her as soon as she was ready.
“Spread your legs,” I commanded, watching as she did so with a wince.
I knew she wasn’t ready again, so did she, but she had to think I was going to use her for a second round, yet she still obeyed.
Then, as I neared, her eyes widened as she saw what was in my hands. The cloth dripped, but I didn’t care. I kneeled against the side of the bed then climbed onto it. Spreading the cloth flat out, I pressed it to her core and pushed the flexible material into each crevice of her sex I could reach.
She released a keening sound as the heat got to her, working into sore and poorly used tissues. Though I did feel guilty, I also felt hot, knowing that she was sore because of me.
Fuck, could I sound more like a Neanderthal?
In apology, I crooned to her, “Let it soothe you.”
She whimpered, but relaxed when I made no move other than to cleanse her. I kept the hot cloth there until it grew chill, then I asked, “Do you want more?”
“Another washcloth?” she replied carefully, making me laugh.
“I didn’t mean more cock.”
When her cheeks flushed, I had to laugh again. She was so easy to rile, so easy to embarrass. A part of me wondered where this woman had been.
She was a New Yorker, born and bred. Had been raised in Hell’s Kitchen, knew the deal with the Five Points—enough to know that hiding in the fucking wardrobe wasn’t too stupid an idea—and yet, she flushed and blushed and cringed like she was a debutante coming out two hundred years ago.
“Please,” she whispered huskily. “The heat helped some.”
I nodded and maneuvered off the bed. As I did, her eyes drifted over my body. I didn’t preen, but I let her look her fill before I told her, “Don’t move an inch. I’ll know.”
She flared her eyes wide, looking like a cat in headlights. “O-Okay.”
Because I knew she would obey, I just dropped the used cloth on the ground, knowing my maid service would clean up after me. Returning to the bathroom, it took me less than thirty seconds to get another cloth as the water was already piping hot.
When I returned, she was exactly where I’d left her. Legs splayed, her pussy bright pink from my use. Her belly wasn’t firm like a model’s, her hips weren’t as taut, but I didn’t need that. Sure, it was nice to bang. Variety was good for the soul, after all. But what had Paul Newman said?
“Why go out for a burger when you’ve got a steak at home?”
For the first time in my life, I saw the sense in that.
She had hips meant for carrying a child, not that she’d appreciate that particular acknowledgment. But more important than that, they were perfectly ripe for my fists. I could and would, at some point, grab a hold of her there and tug and fuck her how I wanted her. I could bounce my pelvis against her ass without our bones rattling. Her body was soft and padded, perfect for fucking.
I shuddered, knowing she was out for the count tonight, so getting myself riled up wasn’t smart.
I’d been a bastard to her, and I had no doubt I’d be a bastard again—it was in my nature—but I wasn’t about to use her hard on this, her first time with me.
The trouble with this day and age?
Women had a say.
Well, women outside of the life.
Magdalena had come from another Family, one out in Hoboken. The marriage between her and Aidan had been to cement some kind of agreement between two families. There were other daughters that would make smarter choices for wives, and I knew if I asked Aidan, he’d contract one for me.
