Chapter 11
Izzy
At the last, he jams himself fully into my mouth and my throat. I feel the swell in his cock a moment before his come jets in, turbo charged. Most I swallow, but as he withdraws and twitches, he pumps more come. I’m choking and spluttering, with stuff coming out my nose and eyes, and I really hope those are tears. My mouth is full of him while our eyes are still locked, and I don’t dare to pull away. Not that I can. His hands seem twined into my very scalp.
Then he extracts himself and I gulp in air.
I’ve a halfhearted grip on the front of his wet thighs. The hair and solid muscle slides under my palms.
I’m drowning, heaving for breath, when I sag onto my knees and spit. I clean off, splashing my face with handfuls of water before I start to rise. With a hand under my arm, he helps me gather my feet under me on the slippery floor.
Then Adelmo cups my face and lowers himself to crush his lips to mine.
The kiss is unexpected and surprisingly gentle—for him. He angles his head as he engulfs my mouth in this thorough, heart-stealing kiss. My hands raised, I search his face, the muscles of his shoulders, wondering if I can somehow absorb him, know him, from this simple joining.
This man brought me to the edge of orgasmic oblivion with the cruelest of methods.
When he releases me, we stand beneath the warm rain of the shower staring at each other…as if we’ve each unearthed some life-shattering secret. Absentmindedly, he reaches over and turns off the faucet.
My hand has found his jaw and, again, I’m drawn to trace the damage on his face. He lets me, merely waiting for me to be done.
Torn, I wonder where I am going. Love and hate are linked, right? I’m struggling to understand why I almost like him.
Loving what he did to me, here and now, does not excuse him.
My life goal is not extreme, incredibly objectifying and degrading kink the day before I’m to be executed. Even if I was blown away.
“Get dressed is what I should be saying to you.” His smirk doesn’t reach his eyes.
Every piece of clothes we own is wet.
I shake my head. “We are a mess, and I’m not talking about clothes.” I lift my eyebrows, and he nods.
“Truth.”
There isn’t even a towel in here. I scan the whole room to find he’s gone to the door to bang on it.
“Hey! Bring me some clothes for her, and me. Towels too!”
There’s no answer. Tentatively, I venture toward the other side of the room, padding over, starting to shiver. I clutch my arms around my upper torso. Adelmo, and I hope that is his correct name, gathers up his soaked clothing and lays it out on the floor, away from the puddles.
“They might bring something.” He looks to the door then comes over and sits against the wall with me. A moment later, he pushes his arm between my back and the wall, hooks my shoulder and brings me into his side. “Better?”
I’m frowning. Probably, I should be gushing over this caring gesture, to placate him. Once again—that’s sensible. His body heat is already warming me. I worm closer, breathe his scent, and sigh. “Better, yes.”
It’s not that cold in here but being wet and having no clothes to wear is a problem. The metal floor counteracts what warmth I gain from him. My shivering worsens.
“Still cold,” I whisper
Calmly, he says, “More sex might work?—”
“No.” Hell no. But… I cock my head at him. “Do I detect teasing?”
“Maaaybe. It might be the drugs, Izzy. Being knocked out for so long might’ve wrecked your metabolism.”
I shrug. Despair settles, a dark fog thrown over the room.
Where do I begin?
“I’m cuddling with the man who means to kill me.”
There. That’s a good place to start.