He leads me to his bedroom ensuite and helps me undress. He takes me to the walk-in shower and steps in with me. I look at him, realizing he’s only in a pair of athletic shorts slung low on his hips. He must have been in bed when he got my call. Stepping away from me he starts the shower. Steam vents, multiple shower heads, room for, I’m sure, six people. I really will miss this fucking shower. Turning on the rain shower head, he looks at me, nods, and turns to leave, but I grab his hand to stop him.

“I don’t know if I can wash my hair by myself. Can you help me?” I’m not ready to be away from him yet. He’s not wrong. The minute I leave here, I’ll never see him again, and I want to keep him near me for as long as possible.

Jake slides his shorts down his hips, dropping them to the floor and steps out of them. He gets in behind me under the water and wraps his arm gently around my middle, using his other hand to tilt my head back against his shoulder and hold me for a moment. “Can I get the stitches wet?” I ask.

“It’s fine; there’s a waterproof bandage over the other bandages, so they’ll stay clean and dry. I’ll send you a bunch so you can change the bandages every 12 hours.” I nod and close my eyes, enjoying the feeling of him, of feeling myself in his arms one last time.

I tilt my head back as Jake grabs another shower nozzle and wets my hair, adding the shampoo and carefully washing it for me. He rinses it then adds the conditioner to my hair, massaging it through my long tresses. His scalp massage turns me to liquid in his arms.

Removing his arm from my middle, he grabs the body wash, dumping some on a loofah. Placing my hair over my uninjured shoulder he washes my back, and over my ass in slow, small circles. He slowly drops to one knee, as he washes. His other hand slowly mimics the same movements over the same path down my body. I inhale slowly, enjoying his hands gliding gently over my skin.

Satisfied, he grabs the shower head to rinse the suds from my back. His other hand trailing along, running over it like the soap as it glides down me. His touch is firm in its caress, sinking into my skin. I lean into his touch, savouring it.

Moving in front of me, Jake grabs the body wash sans loofah. I raise an eyebrow at him in question. “Skin-on-skin contact is always better in situations like this.” He tells me cheekily. I want to blame my increased breathing and pulse rate on the fact that I’ve sustained a fair amount of blood loss this evening. But I’m pretty sure it causes the opposite of that kind of reaction.

Jake knows my body. Never wasting a single caress when he touches me. All of his movements over my skin are deliberate, done to draw the reaction he wants out of me. The scarred side of his lip quirks up when he hears my increased breathing. He rubs his hands together, making a fluffy palm full of bubbles. The scent of my coconut shampoo mixing in the air with my tropical body wash is delicious. He places his hands on my collar bones, careful not to hurt my shoulder, as he slides his hands in towards my neck. He gently wraps them around my throat, and his thumbs push in slightly as he slides them up my neck towards my chin, tilting it up as he does. With a slow, deliberate stroke back down, he increases his pressure a bit more. I close my eyes and let him take what he wants from me however he wants. I enjoy it, knowing he will never hurt me; he will never push me farther than I’m willing to go, never taking more than he knows I can give him.

His hands begin their descent down the front of me. Rubbing in slow, methodical circles. They caress my breasts softly, still, under the guise of helping me wash. He runs his rough palms over me, my nipples hardening at the light abrasive sensation. He moves his hands, his thumbs and fingertips, grasping my nipples, rolling and pinching them gently. A jolt of pleasure shoots right to my core. I reach out for him to steady myself; he begins his circular descent down my stomach. Careful of the fresh wound there. He reaches my belly button, and he slowly lowers himself down to the floor of the shower.

Seeing this man at my feet sends a wave of desire through me. I lean my back into the shower wall, needing help to stay upright.

Anticipation is its own drug for me with Jake.

I know how his hands and mouth feel on me, what they can do, and those thoughts send another ripple of pleasure through me.

He starts at my feet, picking up one and placing it on his thigh. He begins to wash it while his other hand holds my calf and gently uses his thumb to massage the muscle. I moan from the delicious pressure of. Jake is focused on his task, his eyes on his hands as he touches me. He washes my lower leg with those small methodical circles. Every pass is inching just a little closer to my wet core.

Just above my knee, he abandons that leg, places it on the floor, picking up the other, repeating the process. He’s drawing out my punishment. I’m paying for tonight. For the fear and anger I caused him. For my blatant disregard for my health and safety, for his being scared and unable to get me to comply with what he wants me to do.

I’m not mad at him playing with me like this. I deserve it.

Jake is so much more; he is worthy of a fantastic life with a woman who doesn’t keep secrets from him, especially the types of secrets that have her showing up at his door shot and bleeding.

He moves his hands slowly up my thighs, kneading the muscles gently. Anticipation is making my thighs clench. Jake forces them open wider. He continues his ministrations along my inner thighs so close to where I need him to touch me but still not giving me what he knows I want. Legs clean, he rises to his feet. His hand sliding up through the suds as he drags his hand over my skin. Cupping my core as he moves over it, brushing his fingers over my pubic bone and the small patch of hair there.

He grabs the shower nozzle and rinses the suds from my body. His hand slides over my skin as it follows the path of the bubbles the same as before. Enjoying the game he’s playing; he can’t even be bothered to hide the slight smirk of satisfaction on his lips. I let my eyes run down the length of his body, seeing how hard he is—satisfied I’m not the only one affected by his game.

He rinses my neck and chest, caressing every inch of me as he does it. I close my eyes again, loving his hands on me. Lost for a moment feeling his hands on my thighs, I almost cum when he brings the shower nozzle to my pussy, and its stream hits my clit so perfectly. But it’s only there for the briefest of seconds. I moan and reach out to grab something to hold on to. My fingers replace his hair, grasping it.

He brings the nozzle back to me and holds it against me, getting the stream to pulsate over my clit, making my legs start to shake. My fingers tighten in his hair as the water drives me closer to my orgasm. He removes the nozzle again, and I let out a whimper. He stands up, looking at my face.

“What? I need to rinse the conditioner out of your hair.” His grin is large. He turns me so he is behind me. I feel his cock against my ass, and I cannot help pushing back against him. I relish the feel of him, his cock in the cleft of my cheeks. He makes no sound, but I feel his pant against my shoulder. He wastes no time rinsing my hair.

The nozzle falls with a clatter, and Jake drops to the floor. He turns me to face him; his hands grip my inner thighs tightly and force my legs open wider. His tongue drags along my pussy up to my clit, flattening his tongue against me. I arch my back and push greedily into his face, and I moan as he sucks my clit into his mouth.

“God, Jake, please don’t stop. You feel so fucking good. Your mouth feels so good”.

The words are barely out of my mouth before Jake stops sucking and pulls back from me; looking up at me, I meet his eyes.

“No, Ava.” the edge in his voice sends a shiver down my spine. “Nothing you have done tonight has granted you permission to speak and beg me to give you release. You will be very, very quiet. No moans, no begging, no pleading. No calling for a god who I assure you is not in the room with us. Our own personal demons may be here, but no God.” He tells me darkly. “I will allow you to arch your back because it gives me better access to what I want, and I will allow you to hold onto my hair or shoulder. Still, I only grant you that caveat because of the blood loss you’ve suffered tonight, and I’m nowhere near done with your punishment.” He looks up at me, asking me to argue, but I don’t. I close my mouth and nod.

With my nod of understanding, he drops his eyes back down and spreads me with his hands opening me up for his tongue to dive back in. His tongue flicks and sucks my clit as he sinks two fingers into me, causing my and I clench around his intrusion. Jake pumps his fingers in and out of me; his pace is slow and deliberate. I can hear how wet I am. The sounds from his fingers as they work me make me grip his hair even tighter and arch my back more.

“Look at this greedy little cunt so fucking wet for me. Tell me, Ava, do you want to come on my tongue with my fingers fucking your pussy or on my cock?”

I whimper in response, scared to say anything, not wanting him to stop what he’s doing to me. “Answer me, ” he growls.

“Both,” I gasp out, “I want to come on your tongue with your fingers fucking me, and then I want to come on your cock.”

“That’s a perfect answer, Ava,” Jake growls.

He pulls his fingers from me replacing them with his tongue working it in and out. Burying his face in me trying to get his tongue deeper. In and out, eating me; like I’m his last fucking meal.

His tongue laps at my inner walls while a hand slides to my ass, delving between my cheeks. His fingers circle my entrance there, teasing me. He grips my hips hard; he spins me to face the shower wall. I feel his hands come up and spread me wide.

Jake sinks his teeth into my cheeks, both sides getting equal attention. He rises a little higher, spreading me as wide as he can, and I feel his saliva being dripped down onto me. He drags his fingers through it, gathering it, using it to lubricate and sink them into my tight opening. Turning me back, and his mouth replaces my pussy again. His fingers behind me keep massaging that tight ring, working his saliva into me allowing his fingers to slide easily inside.

His tongue swirls around my clit, sucking it into his mouth, working it fast, his finger in my ass keeping the same pace. It’s almost too much, too good, too many sensations. Wetness leaks down my legs as Jake worships me with his mouth and hands. My orgasm has been building, and my legs start to shake, my muscles clench, and I cum hard, pulling his hair as I do.

When my body stops shuddering from my climax, I look down at Jake seeing his smug face. He keeps his eyes locked on mine as he gives me one last long and slow lick. Sending an aftershock through my body. A low chuckle leaves his chest as he watches me shudder again. My eyes rake over him as he stands up, his cock impossibly hard and glistening with his precum. I start to drop to my knees, but he grabs me by the throat, stopping me. Pushing me up against the wall he kisses me hard and deep. My taste still on his tongue as he replaces mine, and I return his kiss, savouring it. Breaking the kiss, he leans his forehead against mine, his hand replaceing the back of my neck squeezing me slightly.

With a deep breath he quirks the side of his mouth up and kisses me fast on the cheek as he grabs his body wash.

“What’s that look for?” I ask him.

“It’s my ‘that was fun, but I’m fucking hungry, so let’s wash fast so we can eat’ look.” He dumps some in his hands, working up a lather; he quickly washes himself then turns to me and lathers me up again, but this time much more efficiently.

“Well, that was a very competent and serviceable washing,” I grumble as he turns the water off.

“Sorry, did you say something?”

“Nope, nothing,” I reply.

“Because I could have sworn, I heard you grumble something about not being satisfied with the service you’re receiving, and then I would have to remind you that the service you receive while in my care, is a direct result of the situation, or shall we say predicament that brought you shot and bleeding to my door.” Grabbing a towel from the warmer and wrapping it around my shoulders he kisses the tip of my nose as he continues. “But you didn’t grumble anything like that under your breath, so I don’t need to remind you of anything.” Jake grabs a towel and quickly dries himself off.

“You hungry?” he asks me as he wraps the towel around his waist.

“Yeah, I could for sure eat,” I respond with a chuckle as he wraps the towel around his waist, heading out of the bathroom with a raging hard-on.

Alone in the bathroom, I gaze at myself in the mirror as I drop my towel and look over my body. A few bruises have started appearing, and I realize I have no idea how I got them. I don’t remember hitting anything during my escape for my life, but who knows? Adrenaline isn’t the best thing for an accurate recounting of events.

My hair hangs straight down my back, ending just above the swell of my hips. My pale skin making the black look impossibly dark. My grey eyes usually sparkle but like my skin, blood loss, fatigue and heartbreak have left them close to translucent. Even my olive skin tone can’t combat that much damage.

I still look like me, the familiar splattering of freckles across my straight pert nose and cheeks. A pink pouty set of lips and a chin that is always just defiant enough completes the face staring back at me. I’m 5’4, not short or tall; my breasts are full but not overly so. My waist is trim, and my hips swell just so sweetly. I’m aware that I’m beautiful. My body is lithe and supple, the perfect package for the deadly little thing on the inside. I still look like me, except with a couple of new wounds that will leave a scar. I sigh. I don’t mind the scars. I like them if I’m being honest. They are the only bits of imperfection I’ve ever been allowed.

I dry my body and wrap my hair in a towel. Heading into Jake’s bedroom I sit on the end of his bed and breathe. I seem to be doing that a lot today, just breathing. I think it’s a valid reaction to the shit show that my life became today, but it is still a lot of silent contemplation for any one person to do in a 24-hour time period.

Jake comes in wearing a new pair of athletic shorts and nothing else; they sit low on his hips. His adonis belt is on full display. I can’t help admiring it.

You’re not admiring it; you’re thinking about all the times you’ve run your hands and tongue over it.

Why does he have to be so fucking hot?

Carrying a plate of food that could easily feed ninety, Jake sets the tray on the bedside table and disappears into his walk-in. I stand up as he comes out of the closet, seeing he has my favorite T-shirt of his. It’s an old Queen t-shirt that has been washed and worn so often that it feels like butter on the skin. It’s the shirt I always gravitate towards when I sleep here. Holding it for me, helping me slip it on so I don’t hurt my shoulder.

I look at Jake, admiring his chest and the ink he has on it. It’s a hyper-realistic full-colour tattoo of a beautiful cliffside with waves crashing against the rocks below. Upon the cliff is a lone figure, a woman with black hair that’s wildly blowing in the wind. It’s both stunningly beautiful and gut-wrenching all at the same time. When I look at the tattoo, I think the woman is sobbing, about to fling herself from the cliff. He has a few other tattoos across his body, all in colour and beautiful in their way.

There is a geometric pattern on his thigh. It encompasses the entirety of it, front and back. The pattern is so intricate that it looks like it moves. The negative spaces feed into the positive ones. It’s captivating. On the inside of his left arm, there is a flock of birds that I think are starlings. On his ribs, connected to the cliffside tattoo through swirls of smoke and vines, he has a dark-cloaked figure whose hands are clasped in what looks like prayer.

He is a work of art, this man. His body, face, mind, all of him.

Jake clears his throat, breaking my drooling stare and raises an eyebrow at me with a knowing smirk. “Get on the bed.” he says, still in his ‘don’t fucking try me’ voice from the shower. I like that tone. It’s the best one.

I sit on the bed and curl my legs under me as I lean against the padded headboard. Jake places the tray on the bed in front of me, then joins me, sitting with his back against the headboard, his legs straight out in front of him. We sit quietly, not talking to each other as we both eat. I grab a couple of grapes and some cheese.

Jake knows what I like, so it’s full of fruit, nuts, snap peas, red peppers, hummus, pita chips, and tzatziki. It’s seriously my dream spread of food.

Grabbing the remote next to his bed and turns on some music. I smile as “Shake The Frost” by Tyler Childers plays quietly over the gazillion speakers throughout his home. I’m not sure when he started playing more of my favourite music than his, but it happened slowly over the six months we’ve known each other.

I don’t know how to be friendly and listen to music I don’t like. I’m aware it’s a problem, but it’s not one I care enough about to change. Eventually, everyone I know gives in and lets me have my way.

It’s a hill that I will die upon.

“Ava,” he starts, and I look over at him, ready for the questions I’m about to be bombarded with. Instead, he hands me a couple of pills and another sports drink. I take them from him, pop them in my mouth and swallow.

“Antibiotics and painkillers,” he tells me after they’re gone.

We fall back into silence, both of us eating as “5am” by Amber Run begins to play. “Jake,” I say, pausing to collect my thoughts before I start. I’m still unsure what I’ll tell him and what I won’t.

“I need you just to listen Jake and understand that there are things I can’t and won’t tell you. I’ll tell you what I can, what I’m comfortable telling you, and what I think is safe enough to share, so no one feels like you know too much and decides you’re too big a risk to be left alive.” Jake says nothing. He looks at me, waiting for me to begin.

Is it odd how well he’s taking all this?

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