Page 55 of Elora and the Crow

He stared at her smooth, wet skin, studying the tiny droplets of water that dripped down her chest and into the hollow between her breasts. His cock was a huge, hard thing between them, and he groaned when she leaned forward, and the tip of his cock brushed against her abdomen.

“Sorry,” she said.

He stared at the smear of precum he’d left on her belly, embarrassment rocketing through him. Christ, he had no self-control.

“No, I’m sorry,” he rasped.

She cleaned his flat belly, her fingers tracing the line of dark hair below his belly button, and he moaned and grabbed her wrist. “Stop,” he choked out. “If you touch my dick, I’ll come all over your damn hand.”

She stared up at him, her blue eyes the colour of an ocean storm, her cheeks flushed from more than just the heat of the shower. “Let me touch you, Jonah.”

“Elora, I…”

“Please,” she said.

He released her hand, his gaze arrowed in on hers. When her lips parted, he bent his head and kissed her, pushing his tongue past the barrier of her lips to claim what was his.

She returned his kiss, her soft lips perfect against his. When her soap-slicked hand curled around his aching dick, he yanked his mouth free and made a harsh moan. “Elora, I need…”

“I know,” she whispered. “I know, Jonah.”

She stroked him once, twice, three times, and with a hoarse howl, his orgasm hit him like a speeding bullet, sending cum spewing from his cock in long thick ropes to land on Elora’s smooth stomach.

He shook wildly, gritting his teeth against the pain that refused to fade even through the most intense orgasm of his life. His knees were starting to buckle, and he slapped his left hand against the slick tile wall in a desperate bid to hold himself up.

Elora crowded close, her body small but sturdy against his as she put her arms around his hips and steadied him. “You’re okay, honey. Take some deep breaths.”

He sucked in a deep lungful of the steamy air. After a few minutes, he said, “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

She kissed his chest and stepped back, watching him carefully. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Jonah. Can you stand on your own?”

“Yes,” he said.

She finished soaping him clean, washing his still sensitive cock with gentle movements before washing his legs and feet. She nudged him out of the way of the shower spray and rinsed away his cum from her stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated.

“I’m not,” she said.

She shut off the shower and stepped out onto the bathmat, grabbing one of the towels and wrapping it around herself before urging him to join her on the mat.

She dried him carefully before wrapping the towel around his waist. “I’ll be right back.”

When she returned, she had a big mason jar of the green paste. She applied it in a thick layer to his back, and despite how much he hated being covered in it, Jonah had to admit that it provided instant and cooling relief to his throbbing skin.

She applied some paste to his head and checked his forehead. “I think the mark on your forehead is good. It’s almost completely healed.”

He nodded, exhaustion and pain making his body droop. She led him to the bedroom, and he sat on the side of the bed. Fresh sheets were on the bed, and he squeezed her hand. “Thank you for changing the sheets.”

“You’re welcome. Don’t lie down yet,” she said.

She left and returned with - his nose wrinkled - more of Charissa’s healing potion. He wanted to protest drinking it like a little kid, but instead, he drank the entire glass, willing his gorge to stay put as he handed the empty glass back to Elora.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No, just really fucking tired.”

“Okay.” She helped him into bed and onto his right side, pulling the covers to his waist.

---