Page 11

LIA

H eld by Rhaim’s strong arms on his chest, I didn’t want the moment to end. “I really do love you,” I confessed.

“I know,” he murmured back.

“And I’m not crazy,” I said, feeling him nuzzle me right afterwards.

“I know that, too,” he said, sitting up, swinging both of us forward. “Hold on, eh?” he said, rising to stand, still holding me and the sad remnants of my pretty green dress, as he kicked his shoes off.

“Am I finally getting a tour?” I teased, which made him snort loudly.

“Yeah. Of the bathroom. There’s probably just as much blood on you as there is me, and while I am a fan of spraying DNA everywhere, I don’t want my housecleaner to have a heart attack.”

I laughed, and tucked myself into his neck, closing my eyes as we went down a short hall into an expansive bathroom suite.

He knelt and settled me into a tub, dress and all.

“You want out of that the hard way, or…?” he offered, and I grinned up at him, peeling off the rest of the dress to hand over for him to toss aside, before he ran water from the faucet, leaning over to take handfuls of it to swish and spit and scrub off his chin. “Better?” he asked.

“A little,” I said, reaching up, rubbing the last of my blood away. “There.”

“Good,” he said, before splashing me with the water. I squeaked and he laughed. “Gotta get you clean too, moth. Get your pussy down here,” he said, patting where the water was flowing. “Put your feet up on the tub’s edge.”

I scrunched my way down the tub, sinking back, giving up on not getting my hair wet, as I let the water meet me.

He ran his hand between my legs roughly, before turning the water off. “Stay there,” he advised, and then clinically inspected me, as my heart flew into my throat.

Getting railed was one thing, but I wasn’t prepared for my monster to play OB.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, as he pulled my folds apart to look.

I shook my head—I was so off-center from the moment, I couldn’t speak.

He looked over at me, half his lips lifting in a daunting smile. “Did you hurt you?”

“No. I mean—I’ll feel it tomorrow, sure. But that’s what I wanted, you know?”

I wanted his everything.

“Yeah,” he answered back, then slid his two middle fingers inside of me.

“Oh fuck,” I breathed—and then his other hand turned the water back on, so it started splashing as he fingered me.

“You like that?” he asked, bringing his thumb up so it could hold up my clit’s hood, which meant the water was now flowing over my most sensitive part.

“Yeah,” I said. I reached for one of my nipples at once to tug it with wet fingers.

“Good girl,” he said, and started rubbing me deep inside, as he made an accommodating sound.

I pushed myself up higher, to see over the tub’s edge, to see the slightly bloodstained dick that’d been in me twice so far tonight rising to half-mast against his suit slacks.

“You wanna see?” he asked, and I nodded strongly—which meant he let go of me, and stood, quickly taking off the rest of his clothing, making me gasp.

He was, of course, perfection incarnate.

Strong, muscled, and where he wasn’t ripped, it was clear he was solid, with enough chest hair to scream he was a man who didn’t give a fuck.

It trailed down his chest in a V and then started up again below his navel, inexorably drawing my gaze down to where clear fluids were dripping from his eager tip.

“Saint fuck,” I whispered, as he knelt back next to me, looking like some kind of Grecian statue, which made what he said next all the more hilarious.

“Lay back and let Zeus finish fucking you,” he said, pushing his fingers back inside me, after stoppering the tub closed.

“Zeus?” I asked with bemused delight.

“Yeah. Form of water, all that sort of thing,” he went on.

“How do you know about Zeus?”

He rolled his eyes before answering me. “I’m Italian.”

“Zeus is Greek. Italian’s Roman—so, Jupiter.”

And that made him laugh outright. “Shut up and relax,” he commanded, with an easy going smile, his attention on my pussy again.

“I thought you liked the fact that I’m smart?” I teased him, and earned a particularly deep thrust and pull, which made me groan and then laugh, relaxing back into the tub at last.

“Don’t make me regret it.”

“Oh I won’t,” I said, promising in a sigh to his bathroom’s very tasteful ceiling. “You have no idea how hard it is to have to pretend to be fucking stupid all the time.”

“Probably not. Although I have had to stand at the back of several rooms looking ominous before.”

I fell apart into giggles.

“It was hard work,” he complained, while flashing his eyes in amusement at me. “I took it seriously.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” I said with teasing sarcasm.

“Yeah. Just as seriously as I’m taking this,” he said, finally leaning more of himself in. I tried to reach for his hard on, but he tsked me before I could make contact—even as his free hand laced around my neck. “Hold your breath, Lia,” he warned—right before he held me under.

My first instinct was to shout with surprise, grab his arm, and twist my hips away from him. I did all three within a millisecond, as he let me up. “Do you have an Ophelia kink?” I sputtered.

That made him laugh again—all the more cruel because the majority of him was dry, and I felt like a wet cat.

“Hold your breath,” he said.

“Fuck you, Rhaim—I mean it!” I shrieked—but it was too late—this time he dragged me under by my hair.

I splashed half of the water out of the tub, clawing his arm, trying to kick him this time, before I screamed—and he let me resurface.

I spit water in his face—which made him chuckle darkly, as he blotted it off with his free hand. “I love you. You think I’m going to kill you?”

“I don’t know! I’ve watched a lot of documentaries!”

And that made him groan. “There’s a fine line between smart and overeducated. Which are you, little girl?” he asked—before pulling me back down.

This time I was able to fill my lungs with air first, and I didn’t fight, because clearly fighting wasn’t going to work—I needed to think.

If he wasn’t trying to kill me, and this wasn’t some sort of weird kink or dominance display, what the fuck else could it mean?

I stared up at him through the rippling water.

Goddammit.

This was some sort of fucking lesson.

I decided to reverse my prior course of opposition and let myself go, slack and trusting—and when he felt my defiance melt away, along with witnessing what I seriously was hoping was not the release of my last mortal breath, he raised me up.

“Were you scared of me, Lia?” he solemnly asked.

All I could do was nod—because I had been.

“Did you need to be?” he asked, tilting his head meaningfully.

And realization fucking dawned—probably because I wasn’t panicked anymore—but I never would’ve gotten there otherwise, the only way out was through.

“No,” I said, shaking my head strongly as even more steel bands broke free inside my chest. “Because you would never hurt me. Unless I needed you to,” I said, and unbidden tears started pouring out of my eyes.

“Finally,” he growled, then relaxed and gave a heavy sigh. “I may make you do things you don’t want to do, Lia—but if I do, when I do—I need you to fucking trust me.”

I wiped away tears and snot—whatever final barrier Rhaim had just broken deep inside me seemed to’ve let every other fluid I possessed out—and he pulled me out of the tub, literally half-drowned, into his lap to hold. “I’ve got you,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”

“I know,” I said, clinging to him, requiring him for both heat and sanity. “Thank you.”

And that made him groan, thumping his head against mine.

“Fuck, Lia—as if I wasn’t hard enough before.

” Then he shifted me, freeing his dick from where it was pinned beneath me, letting it rise up between us, drawing a sticky line against my thigh.

“I need to come in you again, is that okay?” he asked, even as he started lowering me to the thick plush of his bathmat.

I nodded helplessly, letting my hips fall open, as I reached my arms around his neck. “Yeah. Fucking fuck me?” I asked, and he pushed in.