Page 15 of Warmongers and Wands
I was perfectly capable of unhooking my own bra, but before I could tell him that, he’d reached around me, struggling a little with the tiny hooks. It put him against me, warm, strong, masculine. My face was right in line with his shoulder, and I leaned forward just enough to brush his skin with my lips.
The bra came free. Hadur pulled away, taking the undergarment with him as I eased my arms out of the straps. He draped the bra across the back of a chair, then turned to me, his eyes on my breasts. I took a breath, feeling my nipples harden at his gaze.
Yep. It was just like one of those books. Well, not the Fifty Shades ones, but the others that didn’t involve getting smacked with a riding crop and tied up.
He reached out and brushed his fingers across my nipples, lightly tracing the curve of my breasts before pulling his hand away. We stood there—well, he stood and I sat—and all I could think of was broken leg or not, I wanted this man, this demon, to take this whole thing across the finish line.
After a bath, that is. Because I was dirty, and…sweaty. Yeah, sweaty.
I reached out to steady myself on his arm, then carefully rose to my feet, grateful that all those Pilates DVDs had given me some decent core body strength under my soft belly. He went to pick me up, and I waved his hand away, using him instead to help me hobble over to the trough-tub. Once there, I had to let him scoop me up and deposit me into the water, my broken leg raised and cushioned on some towels over the edge of the trough.
“Am I supposed to get this wet?” I motioned to the splint.
“If it gets wet, I will rebandage it with dry cloth,” he assured me.
I grimaced, thinking how badlythatwas going to hurt. I really needed a cast. I really needed to get out of here and get some actual medical attention. But the reality was that unless Diebin was smart enough to track down Adrienne, it would probably be another two or three days before I was rescued.
In the meantime, I was in a steamy hot bath complete with a washcloth and some very nice smelling soap. I reached for the washcloth only to have him move it from my grasp.
“No. That’s my job. You relax, and I’ll wash you.”
Holy cow, he was going to wash me. I’d never had anyone else wash me in my life. Well, aside from when I was a baby, I supposed. I watched him lather up the washcloth and shivered with anticipation. Then I did as he said. I leaned my head back, closed my eyes, and relaxed.
I could hear the crackle of the fire, the splash of the water. I could feel the rough washcloth on my shoulders, down my arms, across my back and chest. I shivered slightly as the washcloth left my body to dunk into the water. Then it returned, rinsing off the suds. The second time I heard the splash of the water, it was his hands on my breasts as the washcloth brushed across my hip and down my right leg.
Fingers rolled one of my nipples and I gasped, opening my eyes to find him watching me. With his eyes on mine, he bent his head and took the other nipple into his mouth.
I suddenly didn’t care one bit about my broken leg. Sucking in a breath, I closed my eyes again, concentrating on the feeling of his mouth and hand on my breasts.
“Keep doing that,” I gasped.
He scraped his teeth across my nipple. “This? Or this?” Suddenly the washcloth that had been on my legs was gone and I felt his hand moving up my inner thigh.
“Both.” I leaned into his touch, feeling his thumb brushing my clit, his palm cupping my sex. I reveled in the sensation of his fingers on and in me, of his mouth on my breast. My world fell away, my body tightening then releasing as an orgasm rolled over me.
His hands soothed me as I rode through the aftershocks. My eyes opened and I watched him watching me.
“That was nice,” I told him. Duh. What a stupid thing to say. I should have come up with something sexy, or complimented him on his skill, or told him how I was going to rock his world once my leg healed. Or maybe before. There’s no reason I couldn’t give him a blow job, well besides the fact that I’d never done one before. I’d seen it in porn. I knew the general gist of the activity. I mean, how hard could it be?
Hard. Har, har, har. Hopefully very hard.
How the heck did I go about telling this guy I wanted to…you know? I wasn’t very mobile right now, so it’s not like I could just kneel down and go for it. There would need to be some considerable cooperation on his part. This would be a first for me, and I wanted to get it right.
It wasalla first for me. Yeah, I was that thirty-one-year-old virgin. I know. It sounded so unbelievable in this day and age, like coming across a unicorn. Except we had three unicorns in Accident, so I was actually the rarer. When I was a teen, I was way taller than most of the boys and way stronger than the human ones. It had been easier to pretend disinterest than face rejection, and by the time I’d gotten to college, it was a habit I couldn’t break. When I’d reached my mid-twenties, it was just easier to project a vibe that I was unavailable, uninterested. So here I was, a virgin. At thirty-one.
Wait, could I still claim that? I mean, the shaft of love hadn’t gotten anywhere close to the cavern of ecstasy, so I guess that technically I still was. But getting off at this demon’s hands made me inclined to think otherwise.
Hadur reached out a finger to touch my cheek. “I hope the next time is better than nice. My witch, I can hardly wait until you have healed and I can do all the things to you I’m imagining.”
He stood to scoop me out of the tub and I noticed that his pants were looking a bit snug and uncomfortable in a certain area.
“I can…uh, I can help with that,” I said as he carried me over to a pile of towels and eased me down onto them. “I mean, I’d like to help with that. Or try to help. Because I’m not all that experienced and might not be that good. Actually, I’m not experienced at all. But I’d like to try.”
Sheesh. I was such an idiot. No wonder I was a virgin at thirty-one.
He shot me a puzzled look and started to dry me off. “What are you talking about?”
I felt my face grow even hotter—like ready-to-explode hot. “That.” I gestured to the crotch of his pants. “With my hands…or mouth.”
