Page 30

Louhi

Stepping inside the empty washroom, Sean locks the door behind us before placing the clean uniform on the counter and moving to a cabinet on the left wall.

After setting the stack of towels he retrieved on the counter, he reaches for the hem of my shirt. The blood-soaked cotton fabric glides over my skin as he tugs it over my head and our eyes catch the moment my top disappears. Without breaking eye contact, I hook my fingers into the waistband of my pants and shove them down, stepping out of them.

Naked before him, I tug off his shirt, tossing it out of sight, reaching for his belt next and unfastening it before unclasping his trousers. He growls, the sound a warning that I don’t heed as I attempt to thread his belt through the loops at his waist. I freeze when his hand shoots out, his fingers wrapping around my wrist tightly, making me smirk as I watch the shadowy tendrils appear in his vision.

“Lou…” he cautions, but I suppose I’m impervious to any red-flag warning at this point. He’s awoken something insatiable within me, and no matter how much he gives me, I want more.

When he moves my hand away, I pout openly at his denial, but he just chuckles. “So fucking desperate for me, aren’t you? ”

I nod slowly, capturing my bottom lip between my teeth. I’m already wet, my pussy aching for him. I wish he’d dive between my legs to see for himself.

Faster than a viper’s strike, he spins me around so that I’m now facing the mirror, my back to his front, with both of my hands now trapped within one of his at my stomach. My chest heaves as I take in the sight of us together.

He leans down, meeting my eye in the mirror as he murmurs into my ear, “Will you be quiet while I feed you my cock?”

A grin spreads across my mouth as I nod. He straightens, a deviant smile consuming his face as he replies, “We’ll see.”

Clearly, he doesn’t believe me, but neither do I.

A shiver wracks my body, his words providing a challenge I plan to meet head-on. He bends once more, his breath cascading over the shell of my ear and floating across my cheek as he whispers, “Are you nice and wet for me?”

His question skitters down my body until the answer floods me as my pussy flutters, and I stifle the groan rumbling in my chest.

“I bet you are. You’re always ready for me.”

Without another word, he pulls his belt free of his pants and wraps it around my wrists, pulling it tight. I suck in a sharp breath, our eyes meeting in the mirror as I test the restraints.

By nature, I am not submissive, though I did try slipping into that role once. It didn’t end well. I may or may not have accidentally killed the man who told me to “crawl,” but I gave myself props for trying it. Life is short, so you have to give everything a whirl at least once.

After that experience, and before I met Sean, I’d go to extreme measures to make sure I was never in a position of submission or vulnerability. Now, I find myself itching to let go entirely. Passing him total control would allow me a freedom I’m unfamiliar with. It’s a feeling I find myself apprehensive about indulging in.

Stepping between me and the sink, he grabs a face cloth, running it under the faucet and adding soap. Turning back toward me, he glides the warm cloth over my face, the dingy white towel now tinged with dirt and smears of blood.

The rough cloth erases more of the grimy film coating my skin as Sean carefully cleans my face. His face is stony as he works, focused on the task at hand as he cleans every inch of me. I want to reach up and run the pads of my fingers across his tanned skin, mentally mapping the grooves, lines and planes of his body as I explore him.

But I’m trapped.

While he works, I memorize each freckle on his flesh, the shade of his skin, and sketching the pattern of his veins in my mind. The dog tags around his neck sway and clink softly as he moves, like seductive wind chimes.

He turns, rinsing the cloth and beginning again as he cleans my neck and chest, navigating the cuts. The rough fibers prickle and tease my flushed skin. When he drags the cloth over my pebbled nipples, I close my eyes, leaning forward as I silently beg for more. When he doesn’t give me what I want, I frown, frustration curling in my belly as it mixes with raw need.

“Spread your legs,” he commands once he’s cleaned my stomach and arms.

Pinning him with a defiant look, I don’t move. As much as I’m inclined to submit to Sean, I like fighting him a little, too.

He meets my stare, arching an eyebrow as if to ask if I’m sure I want to test him. “You’re behaving so well, Lou,” he tells me, running a fresh, warm cloth over my weeping cunt, rubbing it over my clit. “It’d be a shame if you lost out on the opportunity to get fucked the way you want because you couldn’t do as you were told.”

Curling my lip a little, I spread my legs.

A satisfied hum vibrates in his mouth the moment my legs spread. “That’s my girl.”

Why does that sound so right, so good, to be his girl? Why does that declaration have my clit pulsing?

He takes his time washing the entirety of my legs and feet, careful of the numerous cuts and bruises on my skin before moving onto my back with a fresh cloth. When he’s finished, he tosses the rag into the empty sink basin with the other soiled cloth.

When he reaches for a third cloth, my patience snaps like a brittle twig. “Aren’t you done yet? When are you going to feed me ?”

I’m starving for him; I need him, I want him. Like a cock-junkie, I’m desperate for a hit of his delicious pleasure, his wicked pain.

Instead of answering me, the corner of his mouth lifts as he rounds me, the cloth in hand.

He seizes me, yanking me back so that I’m flush with his front, my hands trapped in front of me. The tail of the belt gently swats my pussy at the same time he shoves the cloth into my mouth.

“Now, Lou, I’m going to feed you now.”

Fuck, finally!

I whimper into the rag as he dips his hand between my thighs, slipping two fingers inside. “Fuck, you’re drenched.”

A muffled cry permeates the washroom as the pad of Sean’s thumb flicks over my sensitive clit. I pitch my hips back, seeking his cock as his other hand grips me by the back of the neck, shoving me forward forcefully, bending me in half. His other hand abruptly leaves my pussy, yanking my restraints as he lifts my joined hands. It’s not until he’s threading the belt around the faucet in front of me that I realize what’s on the menu .

Bound, gagged, and completely at his mercy, my cunt drips with savage lust.

With heated, rapt attention, I lift my gaze to watch in the mirror as he makes quick work of shedding his remaining boots and clothing. I whine into the fabric when my body blocks the sight of his throbbing erection as he steps up to me.

“Quiet,” he barks, the dark tendrils swallowing his gaze. With my next heartbeat, his hand comes down across my arse in a brutal hit. Biting down on my gag, I brace myself as he spanks me again.

“This is for not trusting me,” he snaps, and I whine into the fabric, shifting my weight.

His hand cracks against my heated skin once, twice more. “This is for thinking I’d have been in on what those assholes did to you.”

My instinct is to roll my eyes, though I know I probably deserve this paddling; however, I don’t have the chance to so much as frown as my eyes are suddenly rolling to the back of my head on their own as his thick cock slides between my legs.

Then, he’s fucking me.

His pace is brutal, punishing, harsh in a way that’s gloriously sweet. Wiggling my fingers, I attempt to gain purchase around the metal faucet, to no avail, eliciting a cry of frustration and ecstasy into my gag as Sean promptly begins to hit my G-spot.

Tingles spread through my limbs as my head starts to go fuzzy, on the brink of my orgasm.

“I love watching your greedy cunt eat my cock like it’s starving.”

I shriek into my gag as I clamp down around him, unable to control the small spasms he’s summoning from me. He hits the ball of nerves inside me over and over again. Grabbing my braid with one hand, he yanks my head back so that I’m forced to watch him in the mirror as he fucks me to within an inch of my bloody life .

At this angle, I catch the smirk crawling over his face as his thumb and forefinger move to pinch my nose, making my legs tremble at the intensity.

“You weren’t quiet,” he remarks, his breaths strained. “Should I still allow you to come?”

I can’t help it, I wail into my gag, nervous that this might ruin me, that he might ruin me.

Please, please let me come, I beg him with my eyes. I need this, I need you.

He releases my nose and yanks out my gag, and I guzzle in air as he slams into me again while stroking my clit. “Scream my fucking name when you come, Lou. Remind this hell who’s making you feel like you’re in heaven.”

My head empties of thought, my limbs convulsing, and I come hard, chanting his name like a mantra.

He comes inside me with a grunt and tremors continue to wrack my body as I come down from the high. He withdraws from me, releasing me from my restraints and hauling me back into his arms before my legs collapse beneath me. Hauling us both onto the counter, I curl into his chest, my cheek resting against his silver tags, as the cadence of our breathing attempts to regulate.

Plunging a hand between my legs, he scoops the beads of cum that have dripped from me and shoves them back inside. Twisting my head, I find his face, confused for a moment. Since Honey Eyes knew, I assumed he was aware of my missing reproductive organs due to the exam that I did not consent to having, but what if I’m wrong. “You can’t get me pregnant.”

His eyes search mine with vigor, and I hold my breath until he smirks. “I know, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to stay inside of you even after I’ve left.”

A real, authentic smile inches across my face. I’m beginning to understand his fierce possessiveness. I’ve never been proprietorial about someone before, but the more Sean worms his way into my heart, the more that feeling consumes me.

The urge to kiss him overwhelms me as he sweeps a hand over my hair, cupping the nape of my neck, but before I can lean forward and capture his lips, he presses his lips to my forehead and changes the subject. “Why don’t you have a uterus?” he inquires, his tone soft and curious.

I blink up at him once, twice, before swallowing thickly. Can he handle the truth? Will my heart remain intact after slicing open that scar again?

I must stay silent too long because he leans forward, gripping my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Promise to tell me someday, Lou. I can wait until you’re ready.”

His ability to read me, to say the right bloody shit at the right bloody time, is uncanny.

“I promise. Maybe over a glass of wine.”

He scrunches his nose, making me titter. “Whiskey then?”

His face contorts in obvious distaste, and I roll my eyes. “ Jeesus Kristus, what do you drink?”

“Beer. Not really a liquor guy.” Bloody figures.

“I could go for a beer occasionally, but I’m mostly a wine connoisseur. Although, I do like a good sipping vodka from time to time,” I reply, thinking of the last time I had a good sipping vodka at one of Conall’s incredible dinner parties that he throws, featuring world-renowned chefs. “It’s a good thing that your beer will go with my dream menu of juicy lamb chops, roasted turnips, or glazed peas and carrots, maybe even both.”

Running his hand down the short length of my braid, he asks, “Are you one of those women who pairs her wine with her food too?”

I smile as I shrug nonchalantly. “Of course. You get the full flavor profile that way.”

He chuckles, his chest vibrating against my body. “Beer goes with everything. More importantly, what the fuck was that menu? That ’s the food you dream of eating?”

I smirk. “Today it is, but that’s because it pairs nicely with the red wine I can’t stop thinking about.”

“Turnips, really?” He grimaces. “It’s disturbing to know you dream about root vegetables.”

I laugh, the tension in my neck marginally loosening, but it’s short-lived. We fall silent, our breaths echoing off the tiled walls in time with water dripping from a leaky showerhead, the jaws of reality slowly yawning open, thoroughly prepared to bite into our momentary bliss.

Though we don’t say it, we both hold the other tighter, seemingly desperate to cling to each other as uncertainty looms over us like the calm before the storm.