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My pussy clenches. God, his cum is actively pouring from me and I’m okay with him putting some more inside.
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll stay like this.”
His grin widens. “You really are a fantasy, Andie.”
From somewhere in his pocket, his phone buzzes. He tugs it out with clear annoyance on his face. “What?” I’m not sure what is said on the other end of the line, but it causes Gavin to shut his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
“Duty calls?”
Glancing at me, he says remorsefully, “Unfortunately.”
“Should I stay like this, or is it going to be a while?”
“It will be a while.”
“Okay,” I sigh regretfully and get off the stool. Twisting, I get a good look at my pants and grimace. “I should shower.”
I make to leave, but he snatches my arm. “Hang on.” He peers down at the raw skin caused by the ropes. “Shit.”
“It’s okay. I’ll?—”
“It’s not fucking okay.” He tugs me to the bathroom and lifts me onto the counter.
I shiver when my bare ass hits the cold marble, but he doesn’t notice because he’s rummaging through the cabinet drawers.
“What are you searching for?” I look in there too, wondering.
“A first aid kit.”
“Next drawer.” I point to the right. He gives me an odd look. “I organize them, remember?”
And you have nothing private in there to hide anyway. Hell, I’ve never even seen a condom.
Which makes me wonder…
“Gavin?”
“Mmm?” He returns to my side with a white box that has a large red cross on it. Opening it, he begins to pull out the things he wants to use.
“Have you…” I pause, questioning the stupidity of asking a personal question. But, suddenly, I have to know. Something. Anything. “Have you ever brought a woman here? It’s just, I have never seen…” I trail off when he flicks a sharp blue gaze my way. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.”
Gently, more so than I believed he could be, he cleans the raw areas on my wrists and ankles. After that, he slathers a hefty amount of ointment and wraps them with gauze.
When he finishes securing the last bandage, he keeps hold of my hand, his stare downcast. “I would never hurt you, Andie. You know that, right?”
“It was my fault. I was tugging at the ropes.”
“I don’t mean that. When you saw the knife, I saw your fear. You thought I was going to hurt you. I’d first slit my own throat than to ever cut you. Do you understand?” Now he does lift his eyes to me, and while there’s no regret in them, I don’t think he feels bad about scaring me, there is an insistent truth that demands I believe him.
“Okay,” I say, surprised by him.
“I’m short on time. Do you mind if I shower first? As much as I’d love to leave your scent on my dick all day, my underwear sticking to my balls is uncomfortable as fuck.”
I let out a laugh and he smiles, truly and without mischief or wickedness. A pretty smile that crinkles the sides of his eyes.
Biting my lip, I clear my throat. “Yeah. Actually, I’ll just use the guest bath to rinse off since I got these on now.” I show him my bandages. “Don’t want to get them wet.”
We each go our separate ways. In the guest room, I do what I desperately try not to call a whore bath. Once upon a time, long ago, it’s exactly what I’d have called it without a second thought. Now, it’s a stark reminder that in a way I am whoring myself to get out of a bad situation. The same as I did all those years ago. I’m back where I fucking started.
