Page 91 of Silenced

“The Mooncup.”

He blinks.

“That one,” I answer, pointing to the cup.

The tampon disappears into his pocket as he takes a seat on the edge of the bathtub. I don’t bother rearing up, not even if it would be hilarious to soak him in bubbles. I mean, the hilarity is one thing, but it’d be a travesty to ruin that suit.

Unable to help myself, I study the fine silk, how it clings to his muscles… His attire somehow manages toup-play his bulk. It’s a bizarre phenomenon because he could appear stocky. Instead, he’s a walking wet dream.

When I reach his face, I don’t bother blushing when his knowing look registers.

“What?” I retort. “I can gawk as much as you do.”

His lips quirk into a smile before he signs, “Do you need a doctor?”

My brows lift. “No. It’s just a period.” An agonizing uncomfortable period to be sure, but a period nonetheless.

His shoulders wriggle slightly, and I get the sense that—

I grin to myself. “Are you uncomfortable, Nikolai? It’s a natural process.” One that’s sent from God himself to plague all womenkind for original sin.

Hades would never be so ungenerous…

He hitches a shoulder. “Most women I know don’t have them.”

That has me grumbling, “Because they’re on birth control.”

“And you’re not?”

When I shake my head, I frown at his expression—he looks absurdly pleased.

“Do you run a cult or something?”

His expression fades as hegrumpilysigns, “Excuse me?”

“Why would you be happy that you could get me pregnant when you insist on jacking off over my pussy and stuffing me full of your cum?”

Not that I stop him.

He tilts his head to the side but doesn’t answer.

I roll my eyes.

See? Weaponized silence.

His hand trickles into the water, skimming over the top at first then brushing the silken skin of my abdomen.

Because my life has become weirder than ever, I don’t stop him. I don’t even flinch at the first caress. I just watch his expressionless face, knowing that he knows that I’m watching him.

When his fingers find the top of my mons, I shift a little as the whisper of a tickle rattles my nerve endings. He’d showered and shaved me this morning, and I was still acclimating to how sensitive that made my sex.

Spreading my legs with an eagerness that should shame me, I lift my hips slightly when he slips lower, but his gaze locks on mine, stealing my breath as he seeks my clit. Because it feels good, I release a whimper, then I moan as he circles my slit and thrusts deep.

Most of the blood washes away from the finger he slipped inside me as he retreats from the water, but he studies it with an intensity I don’t like.

“Didn’t believe me?” I spit, unsure if I’m annoyed by the notion of him testing if I had my period or if it’s because he stopped.

He blinks. “This should have been my baby.”

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