CHAPTER 35 Charlie
CHAPTER 35
Charlie
I burst out laughing again once we’re back inside the house. Mansion. Palace. “What the fuck did I do to you, baby?” I kiss his dirty nose and hold him to me. My pulse is still racing, but I don’t think it’s from running around the compound or even from fucking him. It’s simply … him .
“To quote Morticia Addams, you scared me.” He comes up on his tiptoes. “Do it again.”
I kiss him on the lips and take his hand, hyperaware of how close he is, even though I just had him naked. “Let me clean you up. I dirtied you too much.”
Rowan smirks. “Yes, please.”
I sigh in amazement. How did I find this guy who fits me so perfectly? Who lets me enact my darkest fantasies—the ones I’d hardly admit to anyone? How did I find this other half of my soul?
Hand in hand, we go into the bathroom made for a princeling, and Rowan inspects his face and laughs again. “Holy shit.”
Swallowing hard, I stiffen. “Was I too rough?”
“Not at all. Fuck, I love this.” He lifts his chin and swivels his head, inspecting the scrapes and dirt .
My stomach flutters just looking at him. “Let me clean you up.”
“Aftercare?” Rowan says.
“Yeah, baby. Let me take care of you. Don’t do a damned thing. I ruined you; now I get to indulge you.” Noting that the knees on his jeans are ripped, I decide he needs to soak, not stand in the shower. I start the bath and roll up my sleeves.
Rowan gazes at me, one eyebrow raised.
His doubt makes something soft and gooey form inside me. I want to protect him. Always. “Come on. I’ll treat you like the little prince you are.”
His smile shorts out my brain.
What is it about this guy that makes me lose awareness of everything around except him?
While the tub fills, I drag his hoodie over his head, then his T-shirt. Touching him makes my body tingle. I kiss along the nape of his neck, across his shoulders, and down his back to his waist.
He moans in pleasure.
Dropping to my knees behind him, I reach around and undo his jeans, then help him kick out of his remaining clothes until he stands before me, pale and naked.
His ass is red where I spanked it. His elbows are bloody. He’s going to have bruises on his hips.
A lump forms in my throat. “While I know that was all consensual, I don’t want you to suffer.”
“Oh, I’m not suffering. I’ll just be a little stiff tomorrow.”
I vow to take care of him.
I swish my hand in the bathwater, checking the temperature, then dump some bath gel under the faucet and return to Rowan. Before he can say anything, I pick him up. He wraps his legs around my waist and puts his head on my shoulder.
My throat closes even tighter.
“Okay, baby. Let’s get you nice and clean.” I stand him up in the shin-deep water, his hair mussed, face dirty, skin scraped. “Is this temperature okay?”
“It’s perfect, Daddy. Mmmm.” He sinks down into the tub, eyes closed. He hisses when the water makes contact with the scrapes on his knees and elbows, but then his expression eases.
“Not your fucking daddy,” I mumble, but my heart is going all wiggly.
The bubbles cover his shoulders, and he scoops some up in his hands, then blows them to the side.
I undress, then take a washcloth from the cabinet and dip it in the water. Rowan looks at me with undisguised interest, licking his lips. A lock of his pink hair is sticking to his forehead, and his big, blue eyes are too much for me to bear.
I shake my head. “Don’t tempt me, menace.”
I wash him, using a light touch—especially on the spots where he’s got a scrape or bruise—to methodically clean every single part of him. I make him sit up so I can get all my spend off his ass and spread his legs to reach every nook and cranny.
Mine. This merman … selkie … bird in a cage. Mine .
He sits back like the little royal he is and watches me work, a contented smile on his face. And his dick is getting hard, so I give him some extra attention there with soapy, slippery hands. He sighs in happiness and whines when I stop.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” I say. “Let me finish cleaning you up first.”
When I’m done with his body, I ask him to lean back, and I dip his hair in the water. I lather him up with shampoo, then use a cup to wash away the suds.
To finish, I help him stand and then turn the shower on. I get in with him and rinse off all of the soap, then tend to my own cuts and scrapes. My dick is fully hard again, because Rowan always makes me hard.
He also makes me feel safe. Whole. Right .
We get out, and I wrap him in the biggest, fluffiest towel I’ve ever seen. Pretty sure it could cover a car.
I wipe myself down with another towel, then kneel before him. “Let me bandage you up.”
“You don’t have to?—”
“Yes, I do.” I pull out a first aid kit that I find under the sink and rub antibacterial ointment on any scraped skin, place a Band-Aid on one knee, and smooth cream over his bruises. Then, after warming lotion between my hands, I work it into his skin. Back, shoulders, chest. All down his arms and legs, too.
He stands silently, watching me worship him. I love worshipping him.
“Come on, little prince,” I say when I’m done, taking his hand. “Time for bed.” He nods, and I walk him to the enormous bed, then pull down the sheets and fluff up the already-fluffy pillows. His hand goes to his crotch, but I tsk. “Don’t touch that.”
“But—”
“No buts. Let me get you something. Hold on.”
I rummage in my overnight bag for my sweats, find my way downstairs to the kitchen, pour a glass of ice water, then return.
Of course he’s stroking himself. I roll my eyes and decide to ignore it. He likes to be a brat.
I might like him being a brat.
He drinks the water gratefully. I also bring him a dose of pain reliever. Once he’s done with the water, he hands me the glass, and I set it down on a coaster. I’m caring for him as if he’s a child, but he’s special, and I made him super vulnerable. I need him to know I can be safe for him, too. If he’ll let me, I will always take care of him.
I shed the sweatpants and climb into bed behind him, arranging us so that my dick is nestled in his ass, both of our heads are on his pillow, and my arms are wrapped around him. Skin to skin. My warmth to his. My body along his. I take hold of his dick, and he groans. “Thank fuck. ”
I rut into him, his ass being the object of all of my desires. It’s heaven inside him. “Are you too sore for me to make love to you again?” I whisper.
“Oh, god, Charlie. Please fuck me again.”
“I’ll do it, but gently this time, okay?”
He bites his lip and nods. After lubing up and playing with his hole, I ease into him. He shudders when I’m all the way in, and I stay there a moment, gently rocking my hips—not thrusting, but simply enjoying being inside him. Then I reach around and grasp his length, and he moans.
“Good boy,” I whisper, and now I’m going exceedingly slowly, making every move count. Every minute angle, every thrust, every pull back. With my hand, I’m focusing on the head of his cock, but every once in a while I’ll go down and massage his balls, making him shudder.
“I wanna see how long this can go,” I say. “How long can you take my cock. Do you think I should fall asleep with my dick in your ass?” I grimace. “Maybe not. But let me make love to you for a long time. I promise I’ll get you off. I just want you to have this … downtime. You know? When you’re cradled and loved up.”
His voice cracks as he says, “Yeah. Okay.” Then, “Thanks, Charlie.”
It’s not characteristically Rowan. He’s usually so brash and bold. Having him be quiet against me—I know he needs this comedown. This time to reconnect. To know that I’m safe for him, even if we play rough sometimes.
I rock into him over and over again, like we’re on a rowboat in a quiet lake—little movements. I don’t pound his ass. I don’t overwhelm him. I just let the feeling build and build and build until he cries out. And this time he’s coming first—I’m going to make sure he gets all his pleasure out before I take mine.
When he’s done, I thrust one last time and let myself release. Then I collapse against him, tugging him close.
Rowan bursts out crying .
“Baby,” I say, leaning around and kissing his cheek. “No, no, no. No tears.”
“That’s not why I’m”—he sniffles—“crying. I loved that. Fuck, it was so good. You just got me all up in my feels, and that’s not a place I usually go.”
“I know, baby. I know.”
I pull out of him and cuddle with him for a moment. But it gets too messy.
“Be right back.”
Leaving him in the warm bed, I get a washcloth and return to clean him up as gently as I did in the shower. I notice a scrape I missed before, so when I go back to the bathroom to hang up the cloth, I get another Band-Aid and put it on him.
Then I get in behind him.
“You good, princeling?” I ask, as we lie in his kingly bed in his palatial room by the magnificent ocean.
“Yeah, Daddy. I’m good.”
“Don’t fucking call me daddy.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
This man will kill me one day. I’m sure of it.
Problem is, I’m too in love to care.