22
EZLA
I poke my tongue into my cheek as Scotty sits on the closed glossy onyx toilet lid, my brows knit in concentration. “Stop doing that,” I bark as his lips twitch for the millionth fucking time. It is getting on my very last nerve.
Hands clenching on my thighs where I straddle him, he lets that stupid grin take over completely, and I hiss at him like a viper while he murmurs, “I can’t help it, Love. This is . . . this is . . .”
Huffing at his inability to speak, I bring the razor to his jaw, carefully sliding it over his skin to remove the first patch of stubble.
“You said you wanted to shave because it feels more you. I agree, so this is only for my own gain. Do not be so cheery.” Chest moving up and down as he laughs silently, I curse him viciously.
“And you are meant to be holding the tub,” I snap.
“Sorry, Love.” He moves one hand to stabilise the small container of water between us, and I glare at everything and anything as I dip the razor head in it, shaking it to dislodge the short hairs.
“I really appreciate this. It’s just . .
. gods, seeing you like this . . .” Shaking his head, he blows out a breath, still speechless.
“I mean, it feels like you’re really mine.
Mine and my brothers’.” I still, and his hand on my thigh rubs up and down soothingly.
“I mean . . . it’s so different from how we were weeks ago.
You cut my arm off the first time we met; now you’re cutting off my stubble. ”
“Shaving,” I correct, because I do not know what else to say.
“The blade is cutting the hair,” Scotty replies with a smile.
Blowing out another short breath, which I admit sounds ridiculously petulant, I say, “You are lucky that that is the only thing I am wanting to cut these days.”
“I—”
“Stay still,” I snap, because all this mushiness is making me feel funny, and I am not sure how I am liking it yet. “I do not want to nick your skin.”
“Of course, Love.” He attempts to keep his jaw as still as possible, so his words are muffled-sounding.
“Good boy.”
Satisfaction burns through me as his cock jumps between my thighs. I am still naked, so it is even more obvious with only his shorts and underwear beneath as a barrier between us while I work.
As I do, giving all my attention to the task, I am not oblivious to his burning gaze. He watches me the entire time, but I do not break concentration.
Gripping his chin, I angle his head back, dipping my own to see clearly as I glide the razor under his jaw.
For some reason I cannot decipher, the sight of his extended neck and close-up of his stubble and Adam’s apple is getting me slightly hot and bothered, and he lets out a low grunt that vibrates the razor as my thighs tighten around him.
He has had an erection the entire time, though I can feel that it is only natural in response to my presence alone, and my bare skin is definitely not helping the situation, but I have felt through the bond that he is more than content with what I am currently doing, that he may even prefer it right now.
I was wildly insulted at first, but as I have taken the time to think it through, I have come to better understand that moods change, and his lack of request for sex does not mean he desires me or wants me any less, only that he is desperate for moments such as these, too.
I am learning more about romantic relationships every day, and it occurs to me now that I am not opposed to this.
Still, I am immensely gleeful when desire flares up too strongly to ignore in response to my own arousal and his hips buck up.
He stills at once. “Fuck. Sorry, Love.”
“Do not be,” I reply without inflection, simply continuing to shave his neck.
It is quiet for a few minutes, his thumb gently rubbing circles on my skin, and I do not know what urges me to say what I do next, but I do not second-guess myself.
“I did not do this with my father.” Scotty tenses, and I correct myself like my men have been, because I do feel inclined to agree that he is not worthy of the title I have been calling him by all these years, “With Joseph.” His hand moves from my leg to my lower back to begin running his palm up and down there next, and as I have been doing a lot of the time when I process the fact that my body receives the sensations given to me in response well, I allow him to do so.
“He would not ask for much more than training and sex.”
Body becoming even more rigid, Scotty forces himself to relax when he asks, “This is your first time shaving a man, then?”
“Yes. As you and the others may have guessed, he is the only man I have ever been with.”
“Fuck, that’s so wrong.”
“Still,” I instruct as I bring the razor back to his skin for my next glide.
Then I say as I narrow my eyes further, concentration increasing when the blade runs over the ridge of his throat, “I am aware. More so than ever before. But I would not like to speak of him. I was only letting you know that this is new to me. Completely. I guess . . .” My brows pinch further, and I mentally chastise myself for my lack of words.
“You wanted me to know that this is special. That I have one of your firsts. Something he didn’t take from you.”
Eyes snapping up to Scotty’s face, I freeze in place.
“Sorry, Love. I didn’t mean to be invasive. I heard you through the bond and thought I’d put your thoughts in order for you.”
I can only stare at him for a few beats, struggling to understand what it is that I am feeling. Finally, I say, “I did not realise it was open. I have . . . It appears my guard is coming down around you.”
His smile is one full of sheer happiness and love. Bringing his hands up to cup my face, he murmurs tenderly, “That’s so good to hear, Ezla. Truly. The best gift I’ve ever been given.”
Then his eyes widen, thumbs that had been caressing my skin pausing. I do not understand why until I realise my cheeks are heating.
I am blushing. Blushing. Like an absolute fool.
“So fucking beautiful.” Scotty’s breathed words are reverent, and the load of snappish ones that were about to spew from my mouth become nothing but distant memories.
Clearing my throat, I reply to his earlier words with a quiet, “Yes. It is . . . It feels nice to have this moment with you, completely free of him. Somehow, my sexual ones with you have never reminded me of him, and I am grateful for that. But it feels . . . special.” I select the word he had used.
“More so than anything else I have done with you because of it.”
“Fuck, I didn’t know I could fall even deeper in love with you.” His groan is almost agonised. “You’re so precious, Ezla. So fucking precious.”
Pursing my lips and scowling furiously at my still-burning cheeks, I grouch, “I am deadly. I am the most feared human being on the planet. Everyone should bow before me—”
He chuckles. “Yes, and all that.”
“Be still,” I repeat my earlier command yet another time when I feel those strange tingles in my belly again that are not uncommon with my Bonds these days.
He obeys at once, and my lips purse as I get back to concentrating fully once more. But he does send those damning words that are not so damning any longer down the bond.
I love you, Ezla. You have my entire heart. There is nothing more valuable to me.
Words escape me, which I find I am having to get more and more used to lately.
I do not know why I say what I do, nor do I understand fully why he tears up in response, but I tell him, I am glad.
I find I am not opposed to your love anymore, my sensible one.
And I am not opposed to the others’, either.
I am . . . I am . . . happy, I believe that is the word, that you have bonded me.