Page 13 of Twisted Vows

Her stomach rumbles. Instead of placing her on the bed, I set her in the apartment’s only chair, steadying her with a hand on her shoulder before crossing the room to the kitchenette.

“Any food allergies?” I ask.

I wouldn’t have asked a month ago, but the boss lady, formerly Aurora Achilles and now Giorgio Vivaldi’s wife, has a blood disorder. While she doesn’t have food allergies, what she eats can drastically affect her health.

“No, no food allergies,” the nurse says.

I peel open a cup of instant noodles, fill it to the line with water, pop it in the microwave, and snag a water bottle from the mini fridge.

She drinks half the water without hesitation, and this time, I manage not to drench her.

The microwave dings. I cap the bottle and set it on the tiny table before retrieving a plastic fork and the instant noodles.

It’s not the most nutritious meal, but it’s better than going to bed hungry.

I have a busy day tomorrow. In fact, I should be out chasing leads tonight, but I can’t leave her here alone. Plus, Narciso will probably spend a few days holed up in his safe house licking his wounds.

Wounds this tempting little nurse treated.

I prop my hip on the table and perform the stir-and-blow process on the steaming noodles, studying my captive as she curls and uncurls her fists in her lap.

I twirl a few noodles onto the fork and blow a few times before squatting in front of her.

“Open up,mia caramellina. Careful, it’s hot.Capisci?”

Her brows scrunch. She clenches her teeth and nods before opening her mouth.

Even though I only scooped up a few noodles, the bite overflows her mouth. She squeaks and tilts her head back, blindly trying to save everything. I reach out, catch a rogue noodle before it falls off her chin, and stick it in my mouth without thought.

My cock pulses in my sweats.

Even with the blindfold covering her eyes she sits frozen in shock, no doubt understanding what I did from the sound of me sucking the broth off my finger. She digs her nails into her palms and starts chewing as though she can forget the last few seconds if she just finishes this meal.

With a chuckle, I ready another bite, putting the same amount on the fork just to enjoy the show.

She does not disappoint. I tease her, only putting the fork halfway in her mouth before telling her to take the bite. Noodles spill down her chin.

The urge to lean forward and steal them with my teeth and tongue almost wins, but I stop myself and ferry the escaped food into her mouth with the side of the fork.

I don’t give her a chance to argue, feeding her one bite after the other until only broth and a few vegetables remain in the cup. After testing a sip to ensure it isn’t too hot, I fit the Styrofoam cup between her bound hands.

“Finish it up,mia caramellina. Let me get you a napkin. You’re filthy.”

I relish her flush and retrieve a clean washcloth from the bathroom, waiting for the water in the sink to warm before wetting it and wringing it out. When I return, she still has a few sips left, so I wait for her to finish before taking the cup from her and placing it on the table. She tries to evade when I wipeher face, but I catch her wrists before she can push me away and caress her chin and mouth through the washcloth.

She’d look pretty with her lips wrapped around my cock. Desire leaks from my tip, creating a wet spot on my sweatpants. I close my eyes and pull the washcloth away from her face, willing my mind out of the gutter.

Swallowing my disappointment and ignoring my hard on, I stalk across the room, rinse the rag, and hang it on the towel rack to dry. As I walk back toward her, I’m glad she’s blindfolded, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off her. She’d probably fly into a rage if she saw how much she affected me, which would definitely spiral us both out of control.

I lift her into my arms and move her to the bed, but she grabs onto my shirt before I rise.

“I need the toilet.”

Her tone relays her anger over having to ask, but she doesn’t shy away from the topic. After the recent incident in the bathroom, my respect for her grows.

I pick her back up and carry her into the restroom. She gnaws on the inside of her mouth but doesn’t demand I leave or fight my grip as I hold her steady by her upper arm and cup her chin.

An odd urge to explain myself rises from my depths, but I don’t have words to express my thoughts, so I give her cheek a reassuring caress before averting my gaze and pulling both layers of fabric off her lower half, letting them slip to her ankles and guiding her to sit on the toilet using her forearms. I rip a wad of toilet paper off the roll and stick it in her fist before stepping away and offering her as much dignity as I can. Even though she can’t see me, I turn my back and wait until she tells me she’s ready to stand before helping her to her feet. I pull her clothes into place and move her to the sink without a word. Her shoulders remain stiff as I wash her hands, the slick glide ofsoap between our digits erotic, but when I keep my ministrations clinical, she loses some of her awkwardness.

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