21. Ivory
“Should be time to rinse your hair out,” Adrian said, standing. “Shall we?”
“Yes!” she squealed, jumping up. “I’m so excited to see how it looks.” Now that he’d allowed her to open up without the aid of tequila, her exuberance spilled out in full force.
“Glad to hear it.” His lips tipped up as he dragged the stool over to the sink and motioned for her to sit with her back toward the counter. “This isn’t the most ideal setup, but it’s the best I got.”
“I don’t mind,” she said, straddling the stool.
“Okay, lean back for me,” he instructed, setting a hand on her back for support. “Let’s see if we need to adjust anything.”
Bracing her toes on the floor, she let him guide her backward until the nape of her neck hit the plastic-covered counter.
“Look at that, perfect,” he murmured, withdrawing his hand as his gaze roamed over her face. She wasn’t sure if he’d been referring to the placement of the stool or something else. Her chest rose as she took in a breath, and the coincidence of their position sent a thrill through her system.
Him standing over her, with a view of everything from the tip of her toes to the crown of her head. Her breathless and eager for his touch.
Is this how being his submissive would feel?
“Are you comfortable enough?” he asked, eyes still fixed on her so he could read any trace of apprehension.
“Yeah,” she replied, anticipation sparking across the surface of her skin.
The stool offered little to no support, and it wasn’t a pose she could maintain for long, but something about being exposed like this, restricted and vulnerable while he watched, made it worth the slight discomfort.
“The water can’t be hot, or it will dilute the dye,” he said, reaching over to turn on the sink. “I’ll try not to make it too cold, though.” His stomach brushed against her shoulder, and the thin shirt did nothing to hide the firmness of the muscles underneath. A woodsy scent wrapped around her, the pungent tartness of smoke mixed with a lighter fragrance of laundry detergent and fresh deodorant.
“Okay,” she whispered, her earlier energy funneling lower in her abdomen as he slipped the cap off her head.
Chilled water began to flow over her scalp, and his fingers wove into her hair, cradling her head and lending some of his warmth. Her eyes drifted closed as he began to work at rinsing the dye down to her roots.
“Not too cold?” he asked.
“No.” She sighed and relaxed further into his hands. “I can handle it.”
“Good girl,” he hummed, his voice a low rumble from his chest.
Her breath hitched, body thrumming with pleasure at his dark tone. Despite only being able to set her toes on the ground when she sat down, her heels now rested on the floor, and her knees fell to either side of the stool. Here with Adrian, she felt no different than being wrapped in a cozy blanket of stars and galaxies. This was right—whole. With her black knight by her side, nothing had the power to drag her down. His darkness became a sheath, a defense against the world.
When she’d knelt in front of Jace in his dingy frat room, a dark void of the unknown loomed overhead and threatened to swallow her whole. She didn’t know what Adrian would ask for if she handed over control, but she had no doubt he respected her. He’d give her the space to speak her mind instead of enforcing his will alone. Without question, she knew he could take her to hell and bring her back in one piece. The thought itself was all too tempting, too good not to consider.
He’d been nothing but honest, and this was her chance to do the same. She couldn’t expect to learn his truths if she hid hers, especially the ones involving him.
“I think,” she whispered, delving into that part of her that she hoped out of all people, he would understand. “I could take anything if you asked me to.” She hesitated but continued under her breath. “I’d want you to ask me for the things not meant for a friend or a stranger. Things you’d ask from one of your arrangements.”
Her very existence hung in the air, and she stopped breathing altogether. Surely, this time, she’d gone and said too much.
Adrian’s movements paused. “You mean that?”
Glad her eyes were closed and sealed off from his reaction, she admitted the truth. “Yes.”
“Oh, Iv,” he murmured, tone warm and low as his fingers resumed stroking her scalp. “My sweet little witch.” Her heart hammered at his words, begging him to say more. Then, his hand tightened around the roots of her hair. “Hold still for me, sweetheart.”
Moving wouldn’t be an option even if she wanted—tilting her head to the side was impossible with his iron grip, harsh enough to ensure control yet attentive enough not to cause damage. It made more heat flush through her veins, and adrenaline quickened her pulse. She was sure he saw the flutter of her heartbeat on her neck, though that wasn’t the only place she felt his effects. Her jeans felt as thin as lace as her sex swelled, spread open and slick.
“I’d like nothing more than to teach you how much you can take for me,” he rasped in a whisper. “To ask and know you want to obey, no matter the cost. Would you want that? Would you let me?”
She would—she knew in an instant. Even if what he asked for was difficult, even if he offered her as much pain as pleasure, she’d take it. “Yes,” she said. “I’d want to obey, to please you. I’d do my best to follow all your rules.”
Except for the part where she’d already fallen for him, but that thought didn’t have time to take root as he released one hand and reached across her chest to the counter, letting cold droplets of water run from his fingers onto her chest. They dripped down her shirt, rolled over her breasts, and pooled in her navel.
Her lips parted in a silent gasp. A prayer of gratitude to her dark, godly knight. The ache inside her grew almost unbearable, and she reveled in it. She wanted to be on edge, to be held there at his command.
“I promise to give that to you,” he said, retracting his hand and relaxing his grip on her hair. “To give you everything I can—but first, I need to take care of some things.”
Everything.
The word echoed inside her, expanded until she all but burst. He’d promised her everything when before he’d mentioned his partners could ask for anything. The shift in words was too significant to ignore. Maybe that meant she could ask for something he hadn’t been willing to give before.
“Until then, will you do me a favor?” he asked. His fingers began to work another liquid into her hair, making suds and filling the air with a sweet aroma. Must be the conditioner he showed her earlier.
“Of course,” she whispered. Her desire went beyond fulfilling their pleasures; she wanted him to find happiness. To be as whole as he made her.
When he didn’t respond after a moment, she opened her eyes and focused above her head, his hands rinsing her hair for the final time. Something in his expression looked soft—maybe it was how his mouth didn’t tip down in a frown or how his eyelashes fanned over his irises and left thin lines of shadow over his cheekbones. Maybe because he wasn’t thinking about all the things that dragged him down.
“Don’t stop believing in me,” he murmured at last.
She smiled, grateful his request was so easy. “I could never.”
He brushed his thumbs over her temple to wipe away traces of the conditioner, then bent down, warm lips hovering over her chilled skin.
“Don’t stop believing in yourself, either,” he whispered, and kissed her forehead.
She crumbled beneath him, overwhelmed by the too-good-to-be-true promises in his words and the confidence he not only personified but built inside her. She’d wanted all of it from the beginning—and he was willing to give it to her.
Believing in both of them was the least she could do in return. “I won’t,” she managed to whisper back. “Promise.”