Chapter 43
Watching her sleep, I lean down, hating that she’s sweaty and pale. Her hair is wet, and I wonder if I should try to dry it, but I don’t want to disturb her. Christ, she scared me when she curled into a ball and started to shiver uncontrollably.
When she pulled into the lot of the gallery and sat in her car, leaning her head on the steering wheel, I watched.
At this point, I know every twitch and wince she makes.
Her movements were not as graceful as they typically are.
I worried the entire time I was following her, watching the careful, cautious way she drove, hating when a car got between us on the highway.
Even the moment Jace stopped me as I got on my bike didn’t deter me.
“Stone.” My name was a warning.
“I’m just going to make sure she gets home safely,” I snarled at him, wanting to tell him to mind his fucking business. That she is mine to worry about.
I left him standing there watching me, while I rode away, rushing to catch up to her, thankful that I had replaced the entire engine of her car months ago and added new tires.
It’s safer for her to drive. It was one of the few times I regretted not having a car.
I could have taken her home, let her rest while I drove.
I brush her hair back from her face. She mentioned that the medicine makes her groggy and dizzy.
I pick up the bottle I swiped from her shitty apartment and use my phone flashlight to check the label.
Opening my phone, I check the name of the medication.
Ketoprofen is used for severe pain. Shit.
It could be used for anything, according to the search.
Whatever it’s for, her eyes were glazed enough that I knew she was awash in pain, barely coherent.
She was almost boneless when I carted her to my bed.
Seeing her on that damn pallet pissed me off.
That was her bed? Camryn Park is a millionaire, but she was sleeping like a fucking pauper.
Putting her in my bed was probably a mistake, but there was no way she was sleeping on the floor.
The last time I walked through her apartment, boxes of her things were still not unpacked, even though she’s been here for over a month.
I would have expected her to have an apartment decked out.
She still has no idea the level of obsession I have with her, the countless opportunities to watch her at my leisure.
I can call it a method to my madness to keep her safe, but watching her fills me with a level of satisfaction I haven’t felt in a long time, maybe ever.
The moment I realized she was in pain, I couldn’t compartmentalize my feelings.
I couldn’t dismiss the compulsion to take care of her.
The caution tape around her burns to the damn ground.
Sitting on the edge of the mattress, I study her even breaths.
Her chest rises and falls softly, and the sight of her in my bed, my sheets, under my care makes my cock hard.
I take off my wet clothes. I know she won’t wake up.
The medicine she’s taking is powerful. Narcotic level.
I lift the sheets and crawl into the bed with her, pulling her naked body against mine, my cock nestled into her ass.
It points straight up, and it’s already leaking cum on her back.
I reach between us and squeeze the tip, smearing some on her back.
I push my nose into her neck, breathing her in.
Her skin is so soft and smells amazing. She fits perfectly in my arms.
When she stirs hours later, I help her to her feet. “What’s wrong?”
“I need to empty my period disc.”
“Where is it?”
Her movements are slow and lethargic. She touches her belly tenderly and whispers hoarsely, her voice thick with sleep. “Inside.”
“How do you feel?” I cover her hands with my own.
“It’s better, but I—I will need more meds. It lasts at least a day.”
Alert to the possibility of her being in more pain, I get up and lift her in my arms. Her towel is long gone, but I don’t focus on her nakedness right now. I stride with her to the bathroom. Luckily, I got up hours ago and put on my pants. It was around the same time a text alerted me.
Park: She’s not answering her phone. Is she with you?
I looked at her sleeping form when I lied to him.
Me: She got home and went up to her apartment. I’d presume she’s asleep.
Park: Thanks. I appreciate you making sure she got home safe.
I turn on the light and set her on her feet in the bathroom. She holds onto my arms. “I’m naked, Stone.”
“I know.” Her nipples are beautiful, and it’s the first time I’ve seen them.
They’re small and a perfect fit for my mouth.
A flawless landscape for my knife. I only got to see her lithe thighs, smooth calves, and gorgeous pussy the last time.
The slight flare of her narrow hips is gorgeous.
The concave curve of her belly makes me want to dip my tongue in her navel, and keep going, dragging my tongue up to her breasts, sucking those nipples in my mouth, biting them a bit, making the color darker, browner than they are already.
She pushes her matted hair back and yawns. “I need my clothes.”
“No.”
“No?” Both eyebrows shoot up. “Why not?”
I don’t tell her that having her warm, naked skin against mine feels good. Feels right. I lift her over the rim of the tub. “I’m going to take the disc out,” I say instead. I kneel on the tile, touching her legs, pushing them apart. She braces on my shoulder, yelping. “Stop it, Stone. I can do it.”
I slide my hands over her knee and up, coasting over warm skin.
“I said I can do it,” she protests, trying to push my hands aside, grabbing my wrist from between my legs. When I don’t budge, she clamps her thighs around my forearm.
“Open your legs, Countess. I’ve already touched your pussy, remember?”
“Oh my god. You’re insane,” she whispers, opening her legs.
I look up into her bright red face, amused by her embarrassment. There’s also desire in her eyes. “There’s no use arguing with you.”
My fingers climb up her inner thigh, and I catch the moment she sucks in a breath. I keep going, finally reaching the warmer, humid temperature between her legs. The need to touch inside her warmth is too much to resist, and I push one finger inside.
“Stone. —I, we—,” Her words end on a long, drawn-out sigh, and she slumps forward, leaning her tummy on my shoulder.
The heat inside her is blistering. My fingers are slick.
I find the rubber ring covering her cervix.
I gently pinch it to pull it out. I look down at the blood on my fingers and my palm.
It’s primordial, calling to my baser instincts.
I can smell the iron in her blood, and like always, the sight is erotic, but it is so much stronger now, more intense than when I kill.
This time, my blood lust is more savage; feral.
I want to taste it, swallow it from my fingers, rub it all over my cock.
I want the metallic scent in the room. I want to release my cum inside her, have it mix with her flow.
“I’m sorry. It’s gross.”
Not by a long shot. I pour her blood in the toilet, emptying the cup, and close the lid before flushing. “Nothing is gross about a woman’s blood, Countess. It’s natural. It’s human. A gift given to women.” Her mouth opens, and she observes me, but doesn’t say anything in response.
“Do you have another one? Or do you reuse it?”
She looks at me and says quietly, “I reuse it. You rinse it.”
I stand and rinse it, then rest it on a piece of toilet paper.
Next, I grab my washcloth from the shower and rinse it out using warm water.
I clean her pussy, getting the last traces of blood coating her skin.
After each wipe, she shivers, eyes locked on me, not saying another word.
But the sight of the blood going down the drain, the sight of freshly washed skin, all of it unravels my control.
“Open your legs. I want to see.”
“Stone. We can’t—”
“Do it. Let me see.”
I’ve said the same thing to her before. The day in my tattoo chair. I want it again. No, I need it again. It’s been weeks since I touched her. Days of avoiding her and this insatiable need. Her brother’s warnings don’t matter right now. My reminders don’t either.
She opens her legs wider. I help her and lift her leg onto the rim of the tub. I touch her slit and growl when it comes away dark pink. I rub the slickness between my fingers.
“I have a very heavy flow.”
She says it like it’s some sort of qualifying statement, a deterrent, but like the deviant that I am, it’s the worst thing she can say because now I have to feel her thick, warm blood on my fingers while she comes. “Don’t give a fuck.”
“You’d fuck me on my period?” Cam’s question makes me pause, but I answer her truthfully. “Your period wouldn’t matter to me.” I push my fingers inside her, and she curses, tilting her head back. The beautiful curve of her neck calls to me. “No, Countess, look at me.”
She looks at me, blinking slowly. She’s aroused.
“Good, girl. Keep your eyes right on me.” She nods just as slowly, and I push my fingers deeper.
Her pupils widen, her chest starts to flush, moving up her neck to her face.
I hold in my growl at her scalding heat.
She’s warmer than before. I want that burn on my cock.
Fuck’s sake. Stroking once, I move my thumb in position over her clit, circling as I continue to stroke.
I don’t want to fuck her hard. Just a little pleasure.
I can feel her walls tighten on me, and I pause, watching her bite her bottom lip.
I add another finger, using her arousal and blood to ease my way.
I curl my fingers slightly, and she moans.
“Fuck, Stone. Harder, please.”