Page 21 of Brutal Savior

Next to her, I feel like a bloody ogre.

“You’re gorgeous.”

I didn’t mean to say it, but I don’t regret it when I see her reaction. Her skin is so pale the blush stands out like a beacon. My composure comes back little by little, and I make a show of studying her closely, up and down, as she fidgets.

“Turn around, love.”

She winces but does as she’s told. Being naked seems to have made her more compliant. She must feel incredibly vulnerable. I draw in a breath when I see the mess I made of her tight little arse. It’s too early for real bruises to appear, but she’s red all over, colors ranging from pale pink to a deep, painful shade.

In a day or two, she’ll be blue and purple. Sitting is going to be painful for days. My cock hardens even more, which I didn’t think was possible, but I take it as a warning, too. She’s a delicate little thing. I have to be careful not to break her. Sitting on that chair must have really hurt her, and she took it like a champ. She’s tougher than she looks.

“You can turn around now.”

“Gee, thanks.” Some of her fire is coming back as she adjusts to being naked. I’m happy to see it. Her eyes widen as I unbutton my shirt and lay out the rules of the shower as I strip.

“When we get in the shower, you put your hands behind your head, under your hair, and spread your legs. You wait like that whilst I wash you.”

She huffs. “I can manage that myself, thanks.”

“You’re not listening. This body—” I move my hand, tracing the length of her in the air. “—belongs to me. Sometimes I’ll give you permission to touch it, but it’s mine. You don’t touch without my say so.”

I wait for the explosion, but all I get is a dumbstruck stare. For someone completely alien to the master/slave dynamic, this must sound absolutely ridiculous. Soon, I’ll have to pull out some tricks to make sure she realizes I’m serious.

My buttons are all done, and I shrug out of my shirt. If she’d been planning to say anything, whatever it was is lost as she stares, mouth dropping open. I can’t help but smirk as I unbutton my jeans and slide them down, along with my boxers. My hard cock springs free, and her eyes widen even more.

“Fuck.”

“Well, if that’s not the reaction every man wants, I don’t know what is.”

She shoots her eyes back to my face in a hurry, beetroot red. She’s practically glowing. Feeling like the smuggest bastard that ever walked the earth, I push past her into the huge shower cubicle and turn on the tap.

There are a lot of things that are better in England than America, but showers aren’t one of them. I’d die if I had to go back to the half-arsed lukewarm trickles they call showers over there. Hot water streams over me in a waterfall, and I rub my hands through my hair before beckoning to Quinn. Her gaze has slipped south again.

“In you come.”

She jumps and steps into the water, sighing as it hits her and turning so it’s against her back. It hits her hair, deepening the color. “Into position.”

She twists to look at me, frowning through the spray. “Really? It’s stupid.”

“Do you need another few minutes on your favorite chair?”

She shakes her head in disgust but raises her arms so they link at the back of her neck. It pushes her perky little tits toward me, and it’s all I can do to keep my hands off them. She opens her legs the tiniest fraction.

I tap her sore arse lightly, and she flinches. “Open your legs up properly. I need to get my hand in there to wash that beautiful cunt.”

She lets out a little whimper at the word. Very slowly, inch by inch, she shuffles her feet out until they’re a couple of feet apart.

She stays very still as I reach for the shower gel. It’s a floral-scented one. I picked up something girly with Suzy in mind, thinking she wouldn’t appreciate smelling like a bloke. I squeeze some onto my palms, set the bottle down, and get to work on Quinn.

I start at her belly, a relatively harmless area, soaping over the taut skin and around her back. My hands almost circle her waist. Then I move higher, getting to the zone I’m most interested in. I can’t linger—this is supposed to be just a shower—but fuck, how I want to.

Her breasts disappear into my hands, just as I’d imagined they would, and I let myself roll her nipples between my soapy fingers. Her breathing turns shaky, and she mutters, “I think I’m clean enough there.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” I play with her for a little longer, but she’s right. Just a shower. Plenty of time for more later. I force myself away from her breasts, up to her hair. What in the nameof fuck am I supposed to do with this hair? Suzy has sensible brown hair, or did, until two days ago, so I bought normal shampoo. It might not work for Quinn.

“Your hair. Does it need something special?” I run my fingers through it, or try to. They stick. It’s all tangled.

Quinn frowns up at me. “You’re asking if you ought to buy special color-save shampoo? You do realize I’m your captive?”

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