Chapter 49 #2
“What you all need right now is to shower.” My father shakes his head. “We can discuss everything later. These bodies need to get taken down to the funeral home to be burned, and I need to get boards up over the windows in the front.”
“Come, Ava.” Matthias takes my hand and pulls me along beside him toward the door that leads to the kitchens.
“Jaysus,” my father hollers. “Can’t you take the back stairs and not track blood through my bar?”
“Bill me for it, old man,” Matthias hollers back, but I don’t miss how he veers off to the left toward the back stairwell.
It is a short trip up to the residential floor and into our suite. I am nearly running to keep up with my husband with his long, hurried strides.
Matthias pulls us into the bathroom, and all I do is stand and watch him as he opens the faucets.
Steam fills the large space within minutes.
I stand there waiting for him, not moving to remove my clothes until he is ready.
I heard the way he called my name through the bar.
It was suffused with panic and raw fear.
He needs to be in control right now. To ensure I am not hurt.
Reaching out, he pulls my sweater off me. He keeps going until I am stark naked, and then he strips off his own clothes, which are covered in dirt and blood. I breathe a sigh of relief when I notice none of it appears to be his.
I lick my lips as I watch him reveal his body inch by inch, my pussy already pulsing at the thought of what he can do to me with it. He is a machine. A powerhouse. Every inch of him solid perfection crafted from hours of hard, torturous work.
He tilts his head toward the shower, smirking when I shake my head to clear out the daze his statue of a body creates.
He steps in behind me, closing the door, and yanks my body to his.
I melt against him; his arms wrap tightly around me.
He runs his hands along both of my arms, categorizing each bruise and scrape.
There aren’t that many since Marianne went for my hair, and my clothes took the brunt of the force when I hit the concrete.
A few scraped knees and elbows are far better than my previous encounter with either of them.
He growls when I wince at his hands in my hair. He has lathered them up with shampoo and manages to hit the large knot on the side of my head where I headbutted Marianne’s gun. Not my smartest idea, but it worked.
“I’m going to kill her when I find her,” he snarls, gently avoiding the injured area.
“Not if I get to her first,” I grumble. “Or my mom.”
Matthias lets out a low laugh as he tips my head back under the warm spray to rinse my hair out. “That would be a sight to see, my little psycho.”
I hum delightedly as I pour a good amount of body wash into my open palm. “I love it when you call me that,” I admit. Lathering up my hands, I glide them along his body, remapping every hard inch of him like I have so many times before.
We have grown closer since his miraculous return from the dead, but we are still working every day to make things work between us. He is still a controlling asshole most of the time, but I am not going back to being that meek, quiet girl he forced to marry him.
Not that he seems to mind that I’ve changed. If anything, he encourages it. Except in the bedroom. That is when he makes sure to be fully in control. I sure as fuck don’t mind that at all.
Matthias groans when I take his hot, hard length in my soapy hand, rubbing him with long, sweeping motions.
I brush my thumb over his tip each time I pass it, applying just enough pressure to see his knees shaking slightly.
And they say women don’t have any power over men.
Holding him now, hard as stone in my hand, I hold all the power, and we both know it.
“Fuck, Red,” he breathes, leaning his head back against the tile with a dull thud. “Your hand feels like heaven.”
Urged on by his strained moans, I quicken my pace when he bucks into my hand, seeking more.
One arm wraps around my waist, dragging me closer, his other hand slipping down between us to rub at my clit.
Jesus. I have read that most men couldn’t find that sensitive bundle of nerves with a magnifying glass, but here he is, latching onto it with his fingers like a heat-seeking missile since day one.
Man is a sex god.
Matthias jerks suddenly, switching our positions.
He shoves me up against the tiles, and his mouth crashes down on mine.
Fireworks dance behind my eyes as he rubs his hand vigorously against my swollen clit.
Fuck me, how does he do that so well? His tongue drives into my mouth, and all my thoughts go right out the window.
There is nothing but fiery heat between us. A blazing inferno of lust and desire fueled by a need to stave off the darkness that only the other person seems to keep at bay. He is everything to me, despite the heartache and the pain.
Hell, if he keeps giving me orgasms like he has been, I’ll sure as fuck forgive him a lot faster than I plan. I whimper in protest when Matthias’s fingers leave my pleasure center in favor of lifting me up against his body.
He pins me to the wall, and I wrap my legs tightly around him.
“Matthias,” I moan his name when I feel his hard cock press against my soaked core.
Hell yes.
Matthias leans in, kissing me, his tongue filling my mouth and dominating me.
He nips at my bottom lip harshly, and I groan at the pain before he soothes the wound with his tongue.
One hand comes up to palm my right breast. I shiver as he brushes his thumb over the nipple.
With his stormy eyes on mine, he bends his head down and brings his mouth to the opposite nipple and sucks.