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“Oh…” I mumble and close my eyes feeling him run his fingers through my hair as he rinses it.
I let my head fall back and the position change has my head spinning. My stomach clenches, and I’m so overcome with dizziness that I think I might fall. Ivan must notice a change in my body because the next thing I know his arm comes around my midsection, holding me flush to his chest with a steal grip.
“You okay?” He ask while holding me upright. My bare breasts rub against his muscled chest with every ragged breath I take and I can’t help the heat the creeps up my body.
“Yeah,” I manage to say but it comes out more like a breath than a word. “Just a little dizzy is all.”
“I told you…you need to eat more. If you had finished that sandwich like I asked you probably wouldn’t be so weak.” He attaches the spray back to the wall mount and takes a washcloth that’s hanging on a hook all while keeping a tight hold on my.
“Hold this,” he says and hands me the washcloth. I take it from him and he squeezes some soap onto it. It smells woodsy like grass, and the outdoors. He takes the washcloth back and starts to wash my back and my shoulders. My aching muscles relax at his touch and I melt into him.
When he is done with that he continues down my arms before he suddenly spinning me around so that my back is against his chest. Another wave of dizziness hits me but I press my hands to the wall and steady myself.
“Just lean against me, I’ll hold you up.” I do as he says and lean into him. My breath hitches when I feel his erection pressed up against my ass. My heart beats furiously against my rib cage. I’ve never been so close to a man before.
He starts washing my stomach and my chest, moving gently across my skin. There’s a kindness to his touch, one I don’t understand.
How can his touch be so gentle, so kind, when he’s doing all the bad things he is? He’s a criminal… one who sells women and I should be running from his touch, not embracing it. He’s the reason I’m here, isn’t he? When the wash rag moves lower all my thoughts fly out the window.
“Spread your legs.” He orders gruffly. I feel his chest heaving against my back. Against my better judgment I do as he asks and spread my legs slightly… just enough for his hand to fit between them. When I feel his wash cloth covered fingers between my legs I gasp and my hands automatically grab onto his wrist to stop any further movements.
“I’m not going to hurt you, just relax.” I know I shouldn’t trust him, but his words assure me and slowly I release my grip on his wrist once again allowing him to clean me. I look down watching as blood mixes in with the water swirling down the drain. Once he’s finished washing me, he tosses the wash cloth to the floor of the shower. I twist out of his grip and turn around to face him.
When I see the look in his gunmetal gray eyes I’m frozen into place. He looks so unhinged, so pent up with need or aggression or something I don’t understand…did I do something wrong?
“I promise, I’m not going to hurt you, but I want you to do something for me.” I blink slowly, my lashes fanning against my cheek. A nervous knot unravels in my belly.
Trusting his word blindly yet again I nod my head even though I know for certain that this is going to be something I don’t want to do.
He looms above me for a moment, gauging my expression most likely before he loops his arm around me again like he did earlier, holding me up to his left side. My right arm is dangling over his, while my left arm is in front of us. My gaze drops to his obscenely large penis.
“Give me your hand.” His voice cracks, revealing a vulnerableness. I place my hand in his and he guides me to his shaft.
“I want you to beat me off. Have you ever given a hand job before?” I feel my cheeks heat at the word. Hand job.
“No.” I whisper, feeling ashamed. I’m not sure why I feel the way I do, maybe cause most eighteen year olds know more about sex, and the male anatomy than I do.
A part of me wants to give back to him for being so kind to me, well the other part of me knows that being kind to one another is just plain human decency.
I look up at him watching as his jaw clenches the muscles jumping. Is he angry? He seems mad and that only makes me more nervous. His grip tightens on mine, as he places our hands against his penis. I gasp at the simple touch…it’s smooth, and surprisingly soft beneath my hand.
