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He picked up a cup and dipped it beneath the water’s surface. Gently, he tipped my head back and doused my hair. He did that a couple of times until my dark locks were dripping. In silence, he poured a helping of shampoo into his palm, and with a tenderness I didn’t know he was capable of, he started to wash my hair. Tingles of pleasure raced through me as his fingertips dug into my scalp, washing away the sweat and dirt from traipsing through the forest yesterday. Dirt coursed down my arms in tiny rivulets.
He rinsed me off with the cup of water. Next, he poured several conditioning oils into his hand and worked them into my hair with his fingers. Then, he rinsed off and held out his arm, meaning for me to take it.
“Stand back up,” he directed.
My body pulsed again. Boldly, I kept my gaze level with his as I stood up before him. It seemed to take him tremendous effort to keep his eyes on mine, like he was fighting the desire to look at my wet form with everything he had in him. Just having that knowledge gave me a large amount of satisfaction.
I held my head a bit higher as he looked away. He grasped a washcloth beside the bathtub as well as a bar of soap before he finally gave in and looked at me. His entire frame turned rigid, his muscles rippling with the same restraint that I’d seen pass over him last night.
His gaze turned heated, but he didn’t reach for me. It was as if he was struggling with something internally that he would not voice.
Was it me? Was it him?
There was no way to tell, but I wasn’t ready to ask. After a few tense moments, he nodded so subtly that I almost missed it, and then his fingers were on me once again. His strong hands washed me with a detached thoroughness, and as much as I wanted to enjoy it, I couldn’t because I could tell that he didn’t want to do it and was simply washing me out of duty.
He took a significant amount of time to rinse and clean the gash on my leg. It wasn’t very deep, but his movements were gentle, as if he didn’t want to hurt me anymore than I was already.
“Does this hurt?” he asked, his voice soft and sweet.
I shook my head as he rinsed it once more, and his concern seemed to be sated, at least for the moment.
Maybe he did care after all.
The shy shame I had felt towards him seeing my nakedness washed away along with the dirt covering the rest of my body, but it returned in a flash once he spoke again.
“Spread your legs,” he demanded.
I tried to stop myself from smirking as I shook my head.
“No,” I replied brazenly.
His emerald green eyes darkened with shadow, and a dangerous gleam came over them. I stepped from one foot to the other nervously, waiting to see what he would do.
In a flash, his fingertips closed around both nipples and he pinched them. Without pause, he twisted my sensitive little buds, and I pitched forward with a cry, pain lancing across the expanse of my breasts. When he didn’t let go, I slowly stepped my legs wider and wider. Eventually, I spread myself wide enough to please him and he released my throbbing nipples. I sucked my lower lip into my mouth as my own hands reached up to attempt to soothe them, but I flinched the moment my own fingers made contact.
He lightly smacked them away. “Your gorgeous bare bottom isn’t the only place I can punish, little human,” he warned, and his words lit a fire in my core.
I didn’t respond, my tongue caught up with embarrassment at how easily he’d forced me to comply to his demands.
He soaped up the cloth once more and pressed it between my legs. His touch was teasingly light, and I had trouble keeping my legs straight as they trembled with sensation.
“Are you sore here?” he asked, his voice once again tender.
I shook my head, unable to make myself speak as he dragged the cloth back and forth over my pussy. He pulled away, though, and I had to bite back a groan of disappointment. With gentle thoroughness, he washed the dried arousal off my inner thighs, and when he was done, he placed the cloth back down.
“Does anywhere else hurt?”
I shook my head again, too shy to tell him my ass was still smarting from his hard hand.
“Good. You may enjoy the bath for as long as you like,” he dictated, pulling out a soft, fluffy towel for me from the cupboard and leaving it on a small table within reach.
I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out.
I wasn’t sure what I was going to say, but as he strode out of the room, I realized I had been about to ask him to stay.
CHAPTER8
Sophia
