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I remember what happiness feels like.
The curse feels broken.
That sense of freedom Silvan has brought me to in the bedroom doesn’t end when the orgasm fog fades tonight.
I thought the beast had to let me go to give me my freedom back, but I was wrong. My mind wasn’t open enough. I was thinking too small.
I was pretending Silvan was the only beast I’d ever been imprisoned by.
Now, I don’t have to pretend.
Only one beast remains, and it’s the one that loves me.
I’ve never been freer than I am right now, locked against Silvan’s naked body with his arm thrown around my waist.
His hand moves across my tummy, and I think he might be about to start things up again. He’s been ravenous since he came back from the cabin. I don’t know if he’s chasing demons or just as amped up as I was, but the result has been a marathon fucking session that reminds me I need to ask if he has some cranberry juice in the morning.
“We should shower,” he rumbles.
We probably should.
The bedroom was dark when he came in. He’d put a hoodie on since it’s cold outside, but I don’t know if he had it on when he was handling his business. At the very least, I’m sure he gotsweaty, and he didn’t shower when he came in. He ripped off his hoodie, kicked off his pants, then climbed on the bed and pried open my thighs. We’ve been fucking pretty much nonstop ever since.
We haven’t unpacked. Dare brought my stuff in, so I don’t even know where anything is.
I guess it doesn’t matter. I follow Silvan into the bathroom, and he flicks on the light.
I gasp, startled at the sight of smeared blood onmybody.
My gaze drifts to his hands. His muscled chest. His toned abdomen. Even his cock is smeared with blood. I don’t know if that’s Dylan’s or mine. He got pretty rough with me.
I guess I don’t really care.
We’re both getting clean now.
I follow Silvan into the shower and welcome the piping hot spray as it hits my skin.
He rinses off quickly, then he pours some shampoo in his palm and turns me around. I close my eyes and enjoy the sensation of his hands in my hair as he lathers me up. He pushes me under the spray when he’s finished and leans in to kiss me, letting the sudsy water run down over both of us.
I’m breathless when he pulls back. My pussy’s going to be exceptionally sore tomorrow, but I want him again.
His eyes twinkle with arrogance to let me know he’s aware, but he’s not done cleaning me. He works some conditioner into my hair, then rinses his hands and reaches for the body wash.
He grabs a soft cloth and lathers it up, then he soaps up my tits and washes my stomach. He pushes it between my legs, andI rest my head back against his strong shoulder as he drags the cloth over my pussy and cleans my thighs.
He takes care of me like he always does.
When he finishes, he hands me the cloth.
Your turn.
He doesn’t say it, but he doesn’t have to. I take the cloth and get to work. It’s not like I’m going to say no to another chance to touch him.
I run the cloth over his chest, his abs, his cock, his thighs. I scrub every flake of dried blood off his magnificent body.
It feels like a baptism. A fresh start. A chance to open myself up to things I was too afraid of before.
I don’t feel afraid with him beside me, and he’ll always be beside me.
