Page 54 of Our Little Dove

I shut the door and wait for Fintan to turn and look at me before I start taking off my clothes. One item at a time. Slowly.

“What are you doing?” Fintan asks, his eyes following my every move.

“Taking a shower. Arms up,” I say, trying to keep the rapid beat of my heart under control.

Fintan raises his arms, confused but suddenly showing more compliance than usual. His muscles tense as I remove his cuffs and step closer to him, our bodies brushing against each other.

The heat from the shower envelops us both as I reach up with my key to unlock the collar around Fintan’s throat. “Consider this your incentive to obey me, since physical punishment clearly doesn’t work. Do anything to me, and the recording of you getting railed by Kieran gets sent to Hush. Your faces are clear and visible on my video, which I assume is a big no-no for them.”

“You wouldn’t fucking dare!” he growls.

“I won’t;ifyou do as you’re told. All you need to do is submit, pet.” He stands silent once again, save for his heavy breathing as he tries to control his obvious rage.

“I set up a timer, so as long as I make it out of the basement unharmed before it runs out, our little movie is safe and sound,” I lie with a cocky, yet reassuring smile despite the small pang of guilt fluttering in my stomach.

I place the collar on the vanity before lowering the temperature of the shower. Stepping under the water, I let it wash over me while keeping an eye on Fintan. He’s hesitant at first but eventually follows suit, his eyes wary yet curious as he watches my every move.

I love how, even when they are angry and probably hate me, they still trust what I tell them. Fintan underestimates my willingness to lie and manipulate if it means I get the outcome I want.

Guiding him to stand in front of me, I let him face the tiled wall while I grab the bottle of body wash and soap up my hands, reaching out to touch him lightly on his scarred shoulder blades before starting to work up a lather.

His skin is warm under my fingertips as they glide across his back in slow circles. The scent of his sweat mixes with the minty freshness of the soap; it’s intoxicating and addictive.

He flinches every time I glide my hands over his scars. “Tell me about them,” I say as I continue to wash him. He puts an arm up against the wall and bows his head, letting the warm water run through his hair and only lets out an uncomfortable groan.

I glide down his spine, tracing every ridge and muscle until I reach his lower back where I gently squeeze, feeling how tense he is under my touch.

Stepping around him so we are face to face, I make sure he can’t hide. “Relax,” I whisper while running my hands through his wet hair, massaging his scalp. Despite his reluctance, he leans into my touch; it’s almost involuntary how much he craves comfort.

What happened to him? Kieran also has scars. Why am I suddenly feeling remorseful?

“Tell me about your scars, Fintan,” I prod, taking his face in my hands and forcing him to look me in the eyes.

“Why the fuck do you care?” he spits, pulling his face from my hands. His demeanor is angry and vulnerable, but his cock twitches all the same.

“Both of you have them and you covered it in art. You have scarification and Kieran is covered in tattoos. I want to know,” I say as I stand my ground. “It’s beautiful…” I trail off as I let my fingers trace the intricate scarred design on his chest.

I want to know more about them. I couldn’t really find much background on either of them, but I am certain they are using fake names even though they have identification stating the names they gave me arereal.

“I don’t want your fucking pity,” Fintan mutters, his voice hoarse with emotion and frustration.

“This isn’t about pity, Fintan. It’s about understanding,” I reply softly, feeling my hatred for my captors slip away little by little.

He lets out a heavy breath, his body is tense against mine as he moves me until my back is against the shower wall, standing directly underneath the hot water. “You don’t understand anything,” he says, his tone a mix of defiance and vulnerability.

“Then help me understand,” I urge, my voice soft yet insistent.

“No!” he growls, clearly agitated so I do the one thing I know is a terrible idea, but it is the only thing I can think of in this moment that will shift his demeanor.

I hope.

I curse myself for removing his collar. This can go wrong at any second.

Reluctantly, I reach between us and start stroking his semi-hard cock. The piercings—a delicious reminder of the night that shattered my sanity.

He lets out a dark groan as he eyes me with hunger in his golden gaze. “Will you tell me while you fuck me,” I breathe under the hot torrent of water.

“You’re playing with fire, little Dove,” he warns in a menacing tone. “I don’t burn easily,” I retort matter-of-factly, my eyes not daring to leave his as I pick up the pace.

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