Page 23 of Crushing Clover

“They boss you around? You do realize they’re not bigger than you.”

“No, but theyaremeaner.” He winked at me then pumped a handful of body wash and rubbed it between his hands before spreading it over my skin.

“Rush doesn’t seem as grumpy as Saint, now that he knows I’m not Arabella.”

“Rushton may not be as grumpy, but he’s just as much of a sadist. Don’t let the pretty smile fool you.”

He washed me with reverent precision, like a man scrubbing down a treasured car. When he got between my thighs, I had to hang on to his shoulders. I had visions of pissing fire after he got soap where it didn’t belong, but the man knew what he was doing. By the time he was done, I was scrupulously clean, and my nipples were hard enough to use as drill bits.

I watched as he impersonally washed himself, as though he couldn’t tell I wanted him. We switched places as he rinsed off. The tattoo on one of his shoulder blades made me laugh to myself—live fast, cum hard. Was the tattoo a rash decision or a life motto? Maybe a dare?

“I know we left you horny earlier, but we did you a favor.”

“I’m okay. I don’t need anything.”

Looking amused, he pulled me against his hard body. He was warm, and his wet skin sliding against mine made a whimper lodge at the back of my throat.

He leaned down to speak against my ear. “For now, the only orgasms you get are from him. Understand? If I catch you touching yourself, you’ll be punished.”

“But why?” My voice was embarrassingly distressed.

“Because orgasm denial is good for the soul, and because Rush said so.” With his hand on my lower back, he pressed me closer, until our bodies were flush against each other.

“Can a girl die from blueballs?”

“I’m not sure.” He rested his chin on the top of my head, and I let myself melt against him. It felt good to have a man’s arms wrapped around me. “If I think of a way you can seduce him, I’ll let you know. He’s pretty immune to most people’s charms.”

“Thank you.”

“Where will they send you after the six months is over?”

I tried to swallow down the anxiety that came with so much uncertainty. “Sell me again, I guess. The women I was auctioned off with all hoped they wouldn’t end up in one of those brothels where they work girls to death,” I whispered. Despite the warmth of the water and Lucky’s body heat, I shuddered.

“Sounds melodramatic.”

“I don’t think he’d hesitate.”

“Saint John? He’s heartless, but he’s not a monster.”

“Not him. Warren.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I wouldn’t put it past Warren.”

Reaching behind him, he shut off the water. The whir of the bathroom’s exhaust fan filled the silence.

“You’ll figure Saint out.”

“He hates me, and it’s not even my fault.”

“He’ll get over it.” He reached for a towel and wrapped it around me, then grabbed another and used it to scrunch my hair. “Pretty fucked up for Warren to send you here because you look so much like her, but I can’t say I regret it.”

“Because you want to get even with Arabella?”

“Absolutely.”

He smacked my butt under the short towel I was wearing and grabbed another for himself. I used his distraction to study his dick piercing.

When he wrapped the towel around his waist, I realized he’d caught me staring.

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