Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“I think you need some water, some ibuprofen, and a hot shower.” He gave me a little nudge.
“What about fucking me?” I whined. I couldn’t quite believe myself, suggesting such a thing after all of that when I’d so recently decided to take holy orders and never indulge in sins of the flesh again.
“Do you want me to fuck you?” he asked, his brow furrowing. “Or do you think you should let me fuck you?”
“Um…” I considered. “The first.”
“I don’t ever want you to assume that because we did something like this, I expect intercourse in return,” he went on. “Believe me, I would have no problem jerking myself off and thinking about this.”
“But it wouldn’t feel right to me.” I stopped to collect my thoughts. “No, not that it wouldn’t feel right. It wouldn’t feel complete to me. If I’ve done a good job, then I should get to take your cock, right?”
He grinned down at me. “If that’s the way you see it, who am I to argue?”
I craned my neck up to kiss him. Knowing what I wanted, he slipped a hand behind my head to relieve the strain on my neck and leaned down, his mouth covering mine. It was a deep, thorough kiss, but a brief one. He raised his head and said, “You need that water. And the painkillers and a shower. Do that, and I’ll reward you with my cock.”
I got to my feet, still shaky, and he rose and gave me as much support as he could while balancing with his cane. We went into the bathroom, rather than back to our bedroom.
Our bedroom. What a weird sentence to think.
The facilities in the guest room were no less lush than upstairs. The glass-fronted shower had the standard optional rainfall head in the ceiling and the alternate detachable head against the wall. Plus, there was a bench, a feature I was growing fond of. It made shaving so much easier than Captain Morgan-ing on the edge of the tub at home.
Since I was already naked, I limped into the room-sized, tiled space and sank onto the wooden bench. Matt leaned in and turned on the shower, adjusting the temperature while I scooted away from the initial rush of cold water. Then, he disrobed himself and came in to join me.
Generally, I tried not to stare at Matt when he was walking, but I had a strange compulsion to study him now. Without his cane, he walked slowly, carefully, testing out his balance on the slick tile. The scars from his surgery and the jagged lines where the bear had ripped open his leg were dark purple and shiny. There was no pattern in nature I could liken them to; they were somewhere between lightning and a gnarled tree.
He caught me staring, and the corner of his mouth twitched. “I know. I’m walking like an elderly man.”
“An elderly man?” I snorted. “That’s not what I was thinking.”
“It’s what I was thinking.” He made his way over to the bench and lowered himself awkwardly to sit beside me.
“I was looking at your scars,” I admitted. “I was trying to figure out what they remind me of.”
“They remind me of the time a bear attacked me,” he said with a grim downturn of his mouth. “Can I be vulnerable for a second?”
My heart leapt. I hadn’t realized how much the idea of emotional intimacy would excite and terrify me. I was glad he was going first. I nodded solemnly and waited for him to collect his thoughts.
He sighed and leaned his head back on the shower wall. “I know I’m supposed to think positive and not be ashamed of having a disability. But there are times I wish I could pick you up and fuck you against the wall.”
“I wouldn’t want you to do that in here, anyway.” I tapped my toes in the droplets of water collecting near our feet. “The danger of slipping. That would be a super embarrassing reason for the paramedics to have to come.”
“Our paramedics have seen worse,” he said with a half-smile. Then, sitting up straighter, he changed the subject. “Did you have a good time, princess?”
I couldn’t answer him at first. I was too busy being shocked at how easily he’d gone from open and sharing to totally in control again.
His brow furrowed. “If there was something you didn’t like—”
“No, that’s not my…” I waved my hand in the air. “you did a one-eighty from who you were out there, and then completed the three-sixty like two sentences later. It threw me.”
He flinched. “I’m so sorry. That wasn’t cool of me.”
“It wasn’t uncool. Just confusing. You’re good at playing a character, I guess.”
“When we do something like this,” he began, leaning forward and angling himself to face me, “we are playing roles, and it can take time to come down. I shouldn’t talk to you about my heavy feelings right after we’ve finished. Your emotions and well-being have to be my primary concern.”