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My heart raged, blood pounding past my ears. I could barely focus on anything over his voice. When he and it disappeared, I knew he was in the kitchen from how his shadow stretched across the floor of the small house, but I couldn’t hear what he did. What did he do? I peeked up and craned my neck to try to see but couldn’t. What was he doing?
“Maddie,” called Cook from the kitchen. “Crawl to me.”
My thundering heart skipped a beat, but I lowered myself to all fours. The carpet dug into my skin. I placed my palms flat to the floor and lowered my head. My hair fell into a curtain around my face.
My mouth was free, and I could use my safe word. It was within reach, but I didn’t want it. I crawled toward him. The carpet chaffed my knees and palms. My shoulders and elbows strained, a pain shooting through my forearms from my wrists.
I spotted him leaning against the counter in the kitchen, naked and glorious. It was the furthest he could get from me in the house.
“Faster,” he ordered, and I tried.
The tile scraped my knees, but that was little more than an annoyance. When I almost reached his bare feet, he moved. I chased him out of the kitchen and into the living room.
Cook stood beside the couch, and I perched myself up on my knees, sinking back to my heels.
“That’s my good baby girl,” purred Cook and put his head on the top of mine.
Keeping my head bowed, I beamed. Yes, I was a very good girl. I could show him just how good I could be. From the corner of my eye, I glimpsed his hardening cock free from clothes. And his hard abs, the V from just above his hips pointing to his erect member. The dark trail running down from his belly button. I could capture that in monochrome too and hang it over my bed.
Something landed on the couch in front of me, bouncing. Two somethings. I blinked to focus and saw a bag of frozen peas and one of frozen carrots. To ice my ass?
Cook reached a hand into my line of sight. “Give me your hands.”
I did, and he pulled me to my feet.
“Sit,” he said.
“But I want—”
“We’re not done, nizhóní, but I need to get you dressed.”
I started toward my room, ready to dress for him, but he let out a low rumble from somewhere deep in his chest. A warning.
“Sit,” he said again.
A hiss escaped my lips as I lowered onto the bags of frozen veggies. He’d beaten me and was now caring for the wounds, like he’d washed me up at Serenity. Cook cared for me like none of the others who took my pain. I would sit on fire or ice for him.
He disappeared into my room this time and returned with another dress. This one didn’t look like Bou’s.
“Where did you get that?” I asked.
“I ordered it for you. Along with these.” He held up a pair of panties with frilly lace on the backside, then turned them around.
I read aloud, “Beard required for entry?”
When I got it, I groaned.
He laughed out loud, and I was immediately addicted to that sound.
Starting to stand, I held out my hand for the clothes.
Cook snatched them away. “I didn’t give you permission to get up.”
I returned to the frozen veggies, hissing.
He draped the black dress with cherries over the arm and laid the panties on top, then said, “Good. Now you sit there while I wash up.”
My jaw worked, words not emerging from my throat. In fact, I probably looked like a guppy sitting there on the couch, gasping for water. The shower ran, but not for long, and when Cook returned, his hair and beard were dripping and a towel hid his lower half.
