Chapter 6 #2
The washcloth travels between my thighs, ghosting over my clit.
I practically choke. “Oh.”
Caleb pants into the air between us. His breathing is just as uneven as mine, if not more. I’d give anything to know what he’s thinking.
He slides his hand lower, over my entrance. I don’t really need to be cleaned here. The outside skin, sure, but it doesn’t need much more than a swipe. Vaginas are self-cleaning.
Caleb runs the washcloth along the length of me again, lightly wiping.
I curl my fingers around the tub’s edge, holding it for dear life as I fight the need to roll my hips into the touch.
This feels amazing, better than anything I’ve ever experienced.
It’s the damned bond. It must be. Caleb isn’t trying to get me off, but this is going to get me there.
I give in and roll my hips, losing the battle with myself. The medication keeps my pain at bay, but I know I’m going to regret this later. I don’t really care about that right now. I need Caleb to run that damned washcloth over my clit about twenty more times. I estimate that’s all it will take.
Caleb, thank the fucking heavens, is on the same page as me. He presses his fingers against the washcloth, directly over my clit, and circles.
I grit my teeth and throw my head back. Fuck.
Caleb chuckles. “Greg would be pissed if he knew I was working you like this so soon into your recovery.”
A low groan pours from my throat. “I don’t give a fuck what Doctor Greg thinks.”
I want Caleb’s hands on me. I want him to make me cum.
HPAW would be proud of how successfully I’m earning the attention of Alpha Knox. They’d be upset to know how much I’m enjoying doing so, but I suppose it’s not a huge concern, as long as I keep my mission at the forefront of my mind.
I can enjoy Caleb—specifically his touch—but that’s as far as it goes. Once he’s given me what I need, I’ll slit his throat. It’s as simple as that.
I’m desperate to feel Caleb’s bare skin on mine. He has big, thick, masculine fingers. I want them inside me. I want to see the mark on the back of his hand flex as he fucks his fingers into me.
My eyes squeeze shut, but they spring back open as Caleb groans. His left hand is below the tub, out of my line of sight, but his shoulder is moving. It’s jerking forward and back.
“Are you touching yourself?” I ask. God. I hope so.
Caleb nods, lingers, then rises to his knees. He’s hard, pressing against the seam of his pants. My breath hitches as he squeezes himself, his hand molding around the rough fabric of his pants.
“Show me,” I order.
Caleb grunts. “That’s not—”
“Please,” I practically beg. “I want to see it.”
Caleb gives himself another squeeze before tugging on his pants, shoving them down his waist. When I finally lay eyes on his cock, I send a prayer to the gods. I’m going to die, and I mean that in the best way possible.
I’m not sure what, exactly, I was expecting—I haven’t had a lot of time to fantasize about Caleb—but the sight of his fingers curled around his cock does me in. He’s thick, thicker than anybody I’ve ever taken before, and impossibly long. He slides his hand up his length before twisting at the end.
My orgasm slams into me. It’s damn near explosive, and it takes even me by surprise.
Caleb’s moan is the only sound that registers as I clamp my thighs around his wrist, holding him captive between my legs. His moan is deep and husky, easily the most erotic thing I’ve ever heard.
I drop my chin to my chest, fighting to keep my breathing as even as possible. My ribs are aching despite the medication, the pain only confirming what I already know to be true. I took it too far, and my body is pissed.
It was worth it. That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had, my body wracked with pleasurable aftershocks even now. I shiver as he removes the washcloth from between my thighs.
His bare hands are on my shoulders a second later, easing me back against the tub and straightening my sitting position.
“Are you okay?” His question is quiet, tinged with worry.
“I’m okay,” I force myself to say. “That was good. Thank you.”
I never thought I’d be thanking a shifter. The words are bitter on my tongue. My connection to Caleb doesn’t change my opinion on the shifters, only complicates it.
He adds more soap to the washcloth. “Lean forward. I’m going to wash your back.”
Is he not going to finish? His cock looked angry—swollen, red, and leaking at the tip. It wanted to cum. I have half a mind to offer my help, but I don’t want to appear too eager. I want Caleb to believe the mate bond is working, pulling me toward him, but not too quickly.
He begins washing my back. I peer over the tub’s edge, surprised to see his dick has been put away and his pants are buttoned up.
I’m not imagining things. He was stroking himself just a minute ago.
When did he put it away and do up his pants?
How did he do it without me noticing? I’m clocked into his every move.
“How’d you do that so fast?” I ask, gesturing to his waist.
Caleb frowns, looking down. That’s when I notice it. There’s cum on the floor between his knees. He finished? So quickly? It must have been at the same time as me. That realization brings a sickening satisfaction.
Caleb’s frown deepens. “You came quite quickly, too.”
“No, not that.” I snort. “How’d you get your pants back up so quickly? I didn’t notice.”
“Oh.” The lines between Caleb’s eyebrows disappear as his face softens. “Shifters are fast, I suppose. Our reflexes are quickest in our skin form, and you had a particularly long orgasm.”
He says the last bit with pride.
Their reflexes are faster when they’re in their skin form? I would’ve never guessed. HPAW surely doesn’t know. I’ll file this away for them.
“We should sleep.” Caleb looks out the bathroom window. It’s gotten dark. “This has been a long day. I’ve let the pack know that I’ll be preoccupied for the next few days, so we won’t be interrupted.”
He helps me dress, putting me in his own clothing. It’s several sizes too big, practically hanging off my frame. It’s warm and comfortable, though, and I don’t put up a fuss as he helps me into bed. Then he lingers.
“You can sleep with me,” I repeat. I hesitate, then continue. “For an alpha, you’re awfully skittish.”
I’m testing the waters. How will he react when I insult him?
Caleb snorts. “You’re my mate, and you’ve been abducted and brutalized. I’m going out of my way to be accommodating, Evelyn.”
“Is this not what you’re truly like, then?”
Caleb flicks off the bedroom light, then slides underneath the sheets beside me. “You are my mate,” he finally says. “This is how I will be with you.”
He kisses my forehead, not-so-subtly signaling that this particular conversation is over. I grind my teeth, debating pushing further, before deciding against it. I have time. I don’t need to rush into anything.