Page 18 of Benedict’s Rejuvenation (Dark Patriots #5)

Unexpectedly, she leaned forward and kissed me. It was a gentle, comforting kiss rather than a passionate one, but I welcomed it. When she pulled away, she smiled at me.

“I believe if we’re getting undressed to check out our scars, we should do it in private. The last thing we want is for Keeley and Beau to walk in on us. Can you imagine what they’d say? Let’s go to my room.” Her eyes sparkled with amusement, and I snickered.

Kensy slid off my lap and stood. I was stunned at the sudden turn of events. I snagged her hands. “Are you sure you want to do this? I told you. It’s not necessary, no pressure,” I reminded her.

“I know, and I’m doing it to prove I’m a warrior to myself. Although I will say, if there’s a prize for the most scars, I win. What’s the reward?”

I chuckled, knowing she was easing her inner tension by joking. I rose, and hand-in-hand, we went to her bedroom. When we entered, I could tell she was tenser. Hoping to ease it, I made a suggestion.

“Would it be better if I went first? Or should we do it together?”

Kensy thought momentarily, then said, “At the same time. If you go first, I might chicken out. I want to get this over with, so together.”

When we entered her room, she had turned on a dim overhead light.

Checking the switch, I realized it was the type that could be dimmed or brightened.

I adjusted the lighting to be brighter, though not glaringly so.

She inhaled loudly but voiced no objection.

Kensy moved to stand closer to the bed. I shifted to be about three feet away from her.

Holding eye contact, I grabbed my T-shirt and pulled it over my head. Kensy had dressed after her bath in yoga pants and a long tunic top. Or at least that was what my sister called them. Kensy hiked hers up to her neck, then removed it. I was left bare-chested, and she was in her bra.

Her tits jutted out pert and proud, covered in pale blue cloth.

I wanted to see them. The brief glimpse when she was in the tub wasn’t enough.

But instead of telling her to remove the bra, I went to my jeans next.

I unbuttoned and unzipped them. Kensy mimicked me, but in her case, she hooked her thumbs under her pants’ waistband.

When I pushed mine down, she did the same.

We removed our pants in sync as if choreographed.

Two piles of clothes were forming on the floor. We were down to our underclothes. Her panties matched her bra. I fought not to react to her near-nakedness, but I was only human. She was gorgeous. I wanted to reassure her. She saw my erection tenting my briefs. Her gaze kept going back to it.

“Kensy, baby, I know I’m hard. I can’t help it. You’re stimulating to me no matter the situation. But I won’t be doing anything about it. Ignore it. We’re here to check each other over. I don’t see any scars, and you’re fucking gorgeous.”

“Ben, you’re incredibly sexy, and I admit, you turn me on, too.

As for ignoring your, uhm, excitement, that’s difficult to do by the looks of that lump in your underwear.

It begs me to look, but I’ll try. As for my scars, they’re confined to my back and ass, and a few on my upper thighs.

I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. On the count of three, we take off the rest.”

I smirked at her “difficult to do by the looks of that lump” remark.

“I’m ready. One… Two… Three…” I counted down.

On three, she went for her bra, and I shoved my briefs down and then stepped out of them.

I never let my gaze leave her. Goddamn, her tits were flawless and ideally sized for my hands.

I wanted to cup, knead, and suck them. She quickly moved to her panties once her bra was off.

Once they were gone, she stood there utterly naked, and I was transfixed.

Kensington Mills was physically the ideal woman for me.

In response to the sight before me, my cock jerked, and I knew more precum slipped from the slit in the head.

It joined what was already there. I ignored it.

Kensy, on the other hand, was scanning my body, and when she got to my cock, she stopped and stared.

I almost lost it when she unconsciously licked her lips.

Fuck. Now I imagined her mouth wrapped tight around it, as she sucked me dry.

Jesus, we needed to get back to the reason we were naked before I ruined it.

“This is the knife wound I told you about,” I said as I opened the show-and-tell. I pointed to it. Kensy eased forward until she was about a foot away, and her hand came up to trace along my scar. I shuddered.

“I’m sorry. Does it hurt?” she asked, snatching her hand away.

I reached over, latched onto her hand, and brought it back. I wanted whatever physical contact she’d give me.

“It doesn’t hurt. I like the feel of your fingers on my skin. And this one.” I twisted so she could see my ribs. “That’s where the guy used the club and tore me up with that barbed wire. I can promise you, he didn’t enjoy it when I reciprocated.”

Her hands touched my ribs, and she tenderly slid them all over the rough texture.

I had some numb areas on my scars, and then more sensitive spots, so I shivered.

My other minor scars weren’t worth pointing out.

I let her study the two big ones and waited to see if she had anything to say. She took her time before she spoke.

“I know those had to hurt terribly. But Ben, your scars don’t offend me in any way. They sure don’t detract from your physical beauty,” she said softly.

My cock throbbed with need. I wanted to ask her to use her hand on it and jerk me off to give me relief, but I didn’t. Instead, I focused back on her.

“I’m glad they don’t. Let me see your backside, Kensy,” I demanded.

I hated when her touch left my body. She took a few steps back, then reluctantly turned to present her back. She didn’t look over her shoulder at me. Her face stayed pointed forward. I took in the scars. The nightie had disguised them that night at the cabin. They were still pink, though fading.

They lay in stripes across her back and ran from the bottom of her shoulder blades to the first two or three inches of her thighs.

I detested that they marred her skin. However, they didn’t repulse me.

I wanted to kiss and soothe them. The pain she experienced when she received them had to have been awful.

“Vadzim was careful not to leave lasting marks on my skin at first, but I angered him two weeks into my captivity. That was the first time he opened my skin. Many of the lacerations left no scars. The ones that did were mainly made by that cat-o’-nine-tails with the sharp, metal barbs at the end that I used on him.

It’s why I chose that one. Sometimes, I’d have to lie on my stomach for days until the cuts healed enough to sit or lie on my back without being in intense pain.

Vadzim would come in, put cream on them, and ask me why I had made him do that, as if it were my fault.

If he wasn’t there, then Slava applied it.

I tried to deny them that fake gesture of concern, but they’d hold me down and do it, so after a while, I stopped fighting them.

I don’t think Vadzim felt guilty, so I wasn’t sure why he cared to do it.

“The reason you don’t see any further marks down my legs or higher on my shoulders is that Vadzim didn’t want them to be seen if we went out and he had me dressed up. And the front of my body was never to be marred, he said.”

Anger was growing the more she spoke of that bastard, Vadzim. “Take you out? When did he think that would happen?” I muttered angrily.

“Vadzim planned to tame me enough that I would willingly live with him. When that happened, he would take me places and show me off to others. He acted as if I were a life-size doll. He believed he’d be able to have me willingly stay with him, and present as his whatever.

Vadzim would tell Nikita and Slava how jealous the other owners would be to see his pet. ”

“Christ, Kensy, I’m so goddamn sorry this happened to you.

I wish we’d found you sooner. But…” I moved closer and lightly ran my fingertips over one of her worst scars.

Kensy jerked and gasped. When she didn’t ask me to stop, I continued mapping them with my fingers, soaking in the softness of her skin and memorizing her body.

I wish my mouth were mapping them, too. Hopefully, one day, I’ll get the opportunity to do that.

“But what?” she prompted.

“But there is nothing about these scars that repels me. I hate them for the pain they caused you, but they don’t mar your beauty.

If they really bother you, give them a year or so more, and I can introduce you to a few tattoo artists who can do amazing artwork on them.

But that’s only if you want to cover them. No need to hide them from me.”

Kensy moaned, and then she whirled around and plastered herself against me.

Our mouths were ravishing each other, and it did nothing for my aching cock or her excitement.

I was quickly pushed to the edge of my control.

Damn, I wish she were ready for more, but I knew I shouldn’t push.

She allowed me to kiss her, to see her naked, and to be pressed against my naked body. It was enough for now.

As if fate heard me, I heard the sound of an engine coming up the driveway. Reluctantly, we parted. I grabbed my clothes, winked at her, then said, “See you in the living room. Bet I beat you there,” I teased before I rushed for the door.

It had the desired effect. Kensy was laughing and working to get dressed before me. She had no time to obsess over the fact that we’d been naked.