Chapter Thirty-Two - Blaire
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Blaire
“I’m not one of your prized stallions that you can order around, Colt.” I say with a glare.
He steps closer to me and, to my horror, dips his massive frame and scoops me up into his arms with ease. I slap at him, but it’s no use. The man has more strength in his pinky than I do in my entire arm.
“No, you’re not. Because they actually listen to me. If you were one of my stallions, I’d already be patting you on the butt for a job well done.”
I stare at him with my mouth agape, mostly because I just realized that I actually think I want to be patted on the butt by him for a job well done.
He lowers me gently into the bath, which is empty but warm water pours out of the faucet.
He dips the washcloth into the water and runs it over the bloody patch of skin that marks the beginning of my wild pubic hair. I self-consciously close my legs to try to cover up as much of myself as possible because it’s one thing to have wild pubic hair, but it’s another to have a strange wound that highlights my ineptitude .
“Can I just ask what you’re being shy about right now? Me and her are well-acquainted.” He nods towards my furry little beast.
“I just haven’t taken care of her in a bit.” I try to sound confident even though it’s pretty hard at this moment. “And I want you to only think of her as sexy and not needing maintenance.”
“Every thing that’s worth a damn needs maintenance.” He says confidently. “And she looks beautiful as ever, despite you doing your best to damage her. You’ve really got to treat her more nicely.” His tone is serious, the hard lines of his face barely cracking, but I see the glimmer in his eye. Who would have thought that Colt Rile would be cracking tender jokes about my anthropomorphized vagina? If someone gave me a billion dollars to guess this scenario was true, I’d lose every penny.
He grabs the shaving cream from the counter and sprays the foam in his hand. The scent is deliciously recognizable. Notes of cedar and vanilla swirl around me and take me back to every time I’ve ever craved that smell on my body. Visions of the muscled lines of his back and thighs dance across my brain as he lathers my most sensitive areas with the shaving cream.
Damn. Is this supposed to be hot? Because this is really damn hot.
His arms flex as he opens up my legs to get every part of me. And this time I don’t resist. I’m pliant in his hands. He seems to notice and looks up at me curiously.
I avoid his eye contact and attempt to sit straighter, pushing myself up with my arms on either side of the tub.
But all the warm fuzzy feelings drain out of me when he grabs his razor. I hadn’t gotten a proper view of it before. It’s not a typical razor that you can get at a drugstore. The thing looks like a damn guillotine for squirrels. The sturdy metal handle isn’t attached to a cute 5-blade gliding head. Nope. It’s attached to a damn razor blade.
“Woah, woah.” I protest. “No way you’re getting near me with that thing.”
Colt cocks an eyebrow at me. “I’ve been using this every day since I was fourteen. Sometimes twice a day.”
“Sometimes twice a day?” I get hung up on this little inclusion from him. “What does that even mean? Sometimes you get too much testosterone for breakfast and need to shave twice?”
A smirk dances at his lips. I’m glad he thinks this is funny. Meanwhile, I’m wondering if he just spotted a perfect plan to finally do away with me and is enacting it. Maybe the honeymoon for him is finally over.
“Can you just trust me?” He says low, meeting my eyes.
I narrow my eyes at him. That’s asking for quite a bit.
“You get one test strip.” I offer him the same deal I offered to the drugstore wax kit.
“Fine.” His dark eyes don’t waver from mine as he concedes.
He lets the warm water rush over the blade.
“I changed the blade just for you,” he looks back at me.
“Said the serial killer to his victim,” I say with a sweet smile.
“I’ll take that as a thank you.”
He brings the razor over and quickly brushes it over my skin in one smooth motion, clearing the cream and the hair away skillfully. He brings the razor to the faucet to clean it off and I feel my skin.
It’s completely smooth. And no blood in sight.
He looks at me expectantly, clearly waiting for me to bite my words.
“Alright, cowboy.” I concede. “Show me what you got.”
He makes quick work, gliding the razor over my skin as I stay perfectly still, still scared by the size of that blade.
He spreads my legs to gain better access, and he notices the strip of skin also missing from the edge of my butt. He looks up at me questioningly.
I shrug. “It was a tough battle.”
He grins widely as he goes back to work, handling me delicately, and I have to admit to myself that the sight makes my heart swell. His softer, nurturing side has always melted me when it comes out, and I used to resent that. But now it feels like mine. Which feels like pure delight mixed with a healthy, cynical dose of terror.
He brushes the razor across my most sensitive parts and I hold my breath, but his hand doesn’t falter once.
“What do you think of it like this?” He moves back to admire his work. I notice there’s still a patch of shaving cream and untouched hair.
I smile slyly. “Is that how you like it, Colt Rile?”
I’m surprised at the blush that rises to his cheeks. After everything the two of us have done together, this is what makes him blush?
“I leave the artistry up to you,” I concede, without pushing him any further.
He pulls down the nozzle from the shower and turns it on, rinsing me with care. I take a shuddering breath, feeling his fingers graze along my skin that’s already on high alert with tingling nerves from the fresh shave.
When he glides his thumb and separates my lips, my body glides forward, seeking more.
His dark eyes trail up my body until they reach my eyes. His look is questioning and intense.
“You did good,” he says. “Thanks for trusting me.”
“As good as one of your stallions?” I whisper, still very aware of every point his fingers are in contact with my skin.
“You asking for a reward?” He says, his thumb now moving with purpose. He finds my clit and moves past it and then returns with deliciously slow precision.
My only answer is a gasp of need.
His eyes light up in satisfaction at the desire I can feel written so plainly over my face. He hooks his middle finger into me in answer, pressing inside of me while his thumb still works my clit.
“Colt,” I say his name pleadingly, begging him not to stop.
His skillful hands work inside me while his intense gaze doesn’t stray from my eyes for even a moment.
“I like taking care of you when you let me, Blaire.” Hearing my real name on his lips is so sensual in this moment that goosebumps break out all over my skin.
“I’m letting you right now,” my voice is high-pitched and frenetic.
“Do you trust me?” His voice is low and wanting, as if my words alone will give him what he needs.
“I do,” I say my answer plainly because it’s true. For better or for worse, I trust this man. Sometimes even more than myself.
He lowers his fingers until he finds the last part of me he hasn’t been. “I want to make you feel so good,” his voice is husky now.
His fingers press at that forbidden entrance and I swallow hard, trying to get used to the feeling. It’s something that’s come up when we talk about sex. I’ve told them that I’ve never had anyone in that way, but I want to with them.
I really want to.
And now it seems that Colt is set on making my deepest, darkest desire come true.