Page 15 of Assassin's Mark
But Levi didn’t speak—and he didn’t stop. The water blasted my aching head and muscles, easing knots, calming me against my will. It stayed in place until my shuddering stopped; then came warms hands and soap in my hair. Levi massaged my head, building up suds and lowering my resistance even more. Hetook his time rinsing, then conditioning. The scent of vanilla and flowers filled my nose, soothing me even more—a scent I’d always loved, which was why I used this same soap every day. Yet even that realization couldn’t startle me out of the web he was weaving, using my body and my senses against me as if they were ropes and chains, hands and bars caging me in. When he started to soap my skin, Ididn’t even protest.
He was playing my body like a violin, and I knew with sudden clarity that this, above anything else he could do to me, was what could destroy me.
His fingers moved gently over my aching arms, down to my wrists, into the hollows between each individual finger. My palms tingled as he washed them, and then he placed them on the shower wall in front of me before moving backup to my neck and shoulders, my back. My underarms didn’t escape his notice. Neither did my breasts—he palmed them from behind just like he had last night in front of the mirror, taking their weight, rolling my nipples, tapping the too-sensitive tips until my breath sped up against my will. He smoothed his soapy way down my stomach, dipped lower. A strangled protest left my throat.
“Shh…”
Hishands were so big they covered both rear cheeks easily, squeezing and rubbing, gentling me to his touch. But when one pushed between my legs, it felt too big, too overwhelming, forcing my legs apart to accommodate his size. Slick, blunt fingers traced my nether lips, circled my clit, and I realized I was leaning into the wall, my butt pushed toward him, panting with arousal. He’d introduced me tothe pleasures of sex just last night, and lesson or not, my body couldn’t seem to ignore them now—I wanted release, if for no other reason than to return to a mindless state where everything I’d seen and heard and endured in the past few hours disappeared.
When Levi slid a thick finger inside me, I knew I’d get what I wanted.
“You’re wet, Abby,” he whispered huskily. I could feel the soakedclothes still on his body where he brushed against me. Did that mean he wouldn’t take me? Did I seriously want him to? A finger was safe; a penis? No.
I shook my head silently—at him or me, I wasn’t certain.
That invading finger pulled back, then slid smoothly inside once more. “Yes, you are. Feel how easy it is to get inside you?” Another retreat, and then a second finger joined in. The pressuresent me up on my toes, my head falling back as a groan escaped me. “You’re so tight, but you take me anyway. You let me in, and your body welcomes me with slick heat.”
“No.” But I didn’t try to escape the rhythmic invasion of his fingers.
“Yes.”
Yes.
I couldn’t admit it aloud though. The admission was in the widening of my stance, the pressing back of my hips, the moans and cries that escapedme as he thrust those hard fingers into my needy body. I chased the pleasure like a drug addict desperate for a fix, because that’s exactly what I needed: oblivion; anything to make me feel good, and this did. It felt good, wrong or not.
When he shifted his hand so a knuckle bumped my clit on every thrust, a high whine rose from my throat in unison with my rising climax. Everything finally,finallyfell away—it was just my core, those fingers, and the tidal wave of pleasure rising, rising, rising.
Until at last the fear and hurt and hunger coalesced into a hard crest that washed me clean.
