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“I’m so fucking close,” he groaned.
“Me too—” Or at least she thought she was. And then Draven growled, and she exploded. Her walls clenched around her fingers, her body quivered, and she practically bent her spine as she shot off the bed. She might have even blacked out for a second.
Draven swore and his fingers dug into her leg as he pitched forward and painted her stomach and breasts with his cum.
“Holy hell,” her words fell from her mouth like a prayer. She sank into the mattress, unable to wipe the struck-stupid smile off her face.
“Are you okay?” Draven asked as he tucked his cock away and secured his jeans.
“Just peachy, thanks.” She huffed a satisfied laugh. What kind of question was that? Had he not just witnessed her mind-blowing orgasm?
It wasn’t anything like what she’d experienced before. She’d never thought to explore her body the way Draven instructed, and she was even more shocked to discover the thrill of being watched by him.
Draven’s brow furrowed as if he didn’t quite believe her, which was in direct contrast with the way his lips tipped up slightly at the corners. He slid from the bed and exited the room, returning moments later with a damp washcloth.
He sat on the edge of the mattress, and leaned over to where she still hadn’t moved.
“Here,” Flora extended her hand, “I can do that.”
Draven shook his head. “You have already done so much tonight for yourself, let me take care of you.”
Flora opened her mouth to protest, but the way his eyes smoldered, paired with his gentle approach, forced her to press her lips back together. Something shifted in the way he looked at her, and if she was honest, it changed for her as well. Like sharing such an intimate moment cemented him in her life. Only that wasn’t reality. Draven would only be there as long as it took to complete each of their respective missions.
She couldn’t let herself forget that.
Flora closed her eyes, unable to look at him for fear the tears that pricked might fall. She didn’t expect to feel so emotional over one night naked in front of him, not that she had any other experiences to compare it to. Maybe this was perfectly normal, but it wasn’t like she could ask him. That would be just as mortifying as the connection she felt toward him.
If this is what humanity felt like, a high followed by an emotional mindfuck, then she didn’t need it. She’d already had enough highs and lows to last her an eternity.
But she couldn’t deny the high with him was so damn sweet.
Draven took his time, gently wiping away the evidence of his pleasure from her abdomen, and breasts careful not to touch where the moonstone sat between them. He lingered on her ribs, tracing the scar left by her past, and even with her eyes closed she could feel the weight of his stare. Would he still look at her the same way when he knew about her past?
She hoped he wouldn’t and that he wouldn’t back out on their deal. Because even though she wasn’t going to change her mind about being turned, she couldn’t deny she enjoyed the experience he’d provided her, and she looked forward to seeing what other stops he would pull out to sway her decision.
Her eyelids grew heavy and by the time Draven had finished cleaning her up she was on the verge of sleep. She vaguely remembered him wrapping her in the softest blanket she’d ever felt and his soft words before sleep took her.
“Sleep well, Flora.”
