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“No. But it was the cutest.”

“I wish I could be sexy rather than cute,” she lamented.

“You can be both.”

“Highly unlikely at this point.”

“Cute can be sexy,” he said firmly. “Come here.”

“You say that a lot.”

“Well, you spend a lot of time far from me. If you would just stay next to me all the time ,I wouldn’t have to keep saying it.”

She rolled her eyes but moved over to him. “I can’t spend all my time right next to you.”

“Why not? Would make my job much easier.”

“Your job?” she asked. How would it make running a night club easier?

“Hmm, it’s my job to take care of you.”

“Dear Lord, help me,” she said.

He took her hand and drew her even closer to him. “You need to finish the bath, but you also need to know that just because I have a hard-on, that doesn’t mean you’re obligated to do anything about it.”

“Oh. That’s good to know, but I wasn’t asking out of obligation.” She started sliding back toward his legs, but he grabbed her hand, halting her.

“You want to give me a hand job, baby?”

“I want to give you pleasure,” she said. “I want to learn what you like. You’ll need to teach me as I don’t know what I’m doing. I just know that I want to try.”

“Fuck me. Must have done something right in my life to earn you.”

She blushed and looked down. The way he spoke to her . . . it was something she never thought she would have.

“How about this . . . you do whatever you feel comfortable with? Touch me, don’t touch me, you run the show.”

Her gaze shot up to his. “But what if I do something wrong?”

“I’ll tell you. But I promise there’s very little you could do wrong.”

She wasn’t so sure about this. She was pretty certain that plenty could go wrong. But she nodded. “I still need fresh water.”

He was quiet as she got some more clean, warm water, and then sat back by his feet. As she washed his feet, he let out a choked noise. She glanced at him in surprise, smiling. “Are you ticklish?”

“I am when someone is running a cloth over my feet.”

“Sorry,” she told him. But she was grinning as she moved up his legs.

“You enjoyed that.”

“I sure did,” she agreed with a giggle.

“Sadist.”

Another giggle escaped and the tension eased from her. This was Maxim. He was willing to go as slow as she needed. He was never mean or harsh.

And he was always protective.

So when she got to the bottom of his boxers, she put the cloth down and reached for the top of them, tugging at them.

“Sure?” he asked.

She shot him a gaze.

“Right. Got it.”

He lifted his hips and she shuffled them down. When she was finished doing that, she forced her gaze to look at him.

Dear Lord.

She hadn’t expected that.

“It’s so big,” she blurted out.

He let out a chuckle, followed by a groan.

“Sorry,” she muttered, feeling herself turn bright red. “That was dumb.”

“Don’t,” he warned. “Nothing you say or do is dumb.”

She disagreed, but she didn’t want to argue.

“You haven’t seen many dicks, huh?”

“Just my brothers, and I wish I could erase that memory. Oh, and porn.”

“Porn?”

“Hmm, my brothers watched a lot of porn. I learned not to look, but sometimes, I couldn’t help seeing it. And those men were always pretty well endowed. You could be a porn star.”

“Thanks, I think,” he said dryly.

“You’re pretty too,” she teased. “You’d have been popular.”

“Brat,” he grumbled. “You really want this, don’t you?”

Want it? She more than wanted it. She craved it. But all she managed to do was nod.

“Then go for it, Rainbow.”

She ran the cloth along his shaft and he groaned. “Fuck.”

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” she asked with alarm.

“I’ll tell you if you hurt me. And no, definitely not.”

Oh, so he liked it.

She lifted his dick out of the way to carefully wash his balls. She knew she had to be careful.

He parted his legs to help her. When she was finished, she sat back, satisfied with her efforts. He looked even harder, if that was possible.

She ran her hand over the shaft.

“Fuck, baby. Your hands are so smooth. Warm. Just squeeze me a bit harder. Fuck, yes.”

“Are you sure I’m not going to hurt you?” she asked tentatively. “What about your stitches?”

“What stitches?”

“The ones in your side,” she said with exasperation. “What if we tear them?”

“A man would put up with a lot worse than a few torn stitches to feel your hands on him.”

Oh. That was nice.

If nuts.

“But no other man is ever going to feel your hand on his dick, understand?”

“Of course not.” She moved her hand slightly faster and harder, listening to his breathing grow deeper. He really liked this. And he was enjoying something that she was doing to him.

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