Chapter 27
Rei Kurosaki
The aftershocks were still rippling through me when Dimitri finally pulled his fingers free. My body clenched around the sudden emptiness, and a broken little sound caught in my throat as I sagged forward against the marble console.
My legs felt like water.
My cock was soft and spent against my thigh.
The stretch in my ass burned in the best way. Two thick fingers had opened me up, scissored me, and curled against that spot inside until I came untouched, shaking and gasping and hating how good it felt.
Dimitri did not give me time to float in the haze.
He stood, wiped his hand on a towel, and scooped me up. My pants were still around my ankles. He kicked them the rest of the way off as he carried me through the mansion. I buried my face in his neck.
The bathroom was already steaming when we reached it.
The massive tub was filled with hot water and a ridiculous amount of bubbles.
Dimitri set me down on the edge long enough to strip us both the rest of the way, then stepped in first and pulled me between his legs so my back was to his chest. The hot water closed over my skin like a sigh.
I let myself melt back against him, head resting on his shoulder, the flower still miraculously clipped in my hair even though everything else felt wrecked.
His arms came around me immediately, one hand resting low on my stomach, the other finding my fingers under the water and lacing them together.
He played with my hand like it was something precious, tracing the lines of my palm, rubbing slow circles over my knuckles, occasionally bringing my fingers up to his lips to kiss the pads.
It was so at odds with the man who had just had two fingers buried in my ass and made me come so hard my vision whited out. The contrast was insane.
I stared at the bubbles for a long minute, watching them cling to my skin and then drift away.
“I think I should go home tomorrow.”
His entire body went still behind me. I felt the way his chest stopped moving for a second, the way his hand tightened just slightly around mine.
I could practically hear the panic starting to build in him, the possessive, obsessive part that had locked me in this mansion and refused to let me go to school, the part that had broken into my room and touched me like he was carving his name into my bones.
Before he could spiral, I hurried to explain, twisting a little in his arms so I could look up at him over my shoulder.
“Only for a few hours. My mom keeps messaging me. It is unlike her. She usually just lets Daniel handle everything or pretends nothing is wrong. But she has been texting non-stop. I just need to check on her. Make sure she is okay.”
I could feel him thinking. His fingers tightened around mine under the water, then slowly relaxed again.
“Okay,” he said. “But the bodyguards come with you.”
I sighed, turning more fully so I could face him better. Bubbles clung to his chest and shoulders, and for a second I was distracted by how stupidly good he looked even like this. I reached up without thinking and brushed a bit of foam from his collarbone.
“They stay outside,” I said. “I am not walking into my own house with armed men following me inside. That will just make everything worse with Daniel.”
Dimitri’s jaw flexed. I could see the argument forming, the part of him that wanted to say no, that wanted to keep me locked away where nothing could touch me except him. But then his expression softened.
“Okay,” he said again. “Outside the house.”
I nodded, and some of the tension eased out of both of us.
Dimitri’s hand found mine again under the water.
He lifted it, turning it palm-up, and started tracing the lines with one finger.
Bubbles floated between us. I scooped up a handful and blew them gently toward his face.
A few landed on his cheek and clung there like tiny white clouds.
He blinked, surprised, then gave me that rare, small smile.
“You’re ridiculous,” he muttered.
He scooped up some bubbles himself and pressed them carefully onto the top of my head, right around the red flower. I laughed, and the sound felt strange after everything.
We stayed like that for a long time. He kept playing with my hands, interlacing our fingers, lifting them to kiss the inside of my wrist, tracing the faint scars from old childhood accidents I barely remembered.
Every so often he would blow a cluster of bubbles toward me or flick water at my shoulder.
I retaliated by smearing foam across his jaw like a beard, and he actually chuckled.
At one point I turned my head and pressed a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw, just because I could. Because the fire he had started in me did not always feel like rage or fear anymore. Sometimes it felt like this.
Warm.
Safe.