Page 32 of Keeping Her Under
I gape up at him like the idiot he thinks I am.
He looks down at me in exasperation and pain. But beneath his dramatized expression is a firm painting of relief.
He didn’t used to find me in this nice of a state.
“Self. Ish,” he says, dragging the word out.
I shake my head. “I’m sorry,” I say as I climb to my feet, wincing with every inch gained. “You’re right. I should’ve thought of you.”
I should’ve answered him to let him know I was okay. He probably broke a dozen laws driving over here, thinking he would find me swinging again. Or bleeding out on the floor.
“Damn right.” He shoves me in the shoulder, and when I wince as I stumble back a step, he shoves me again.
“Hey! You’re a fucking asshole!”
“Takes one to know one.” He glances down at my crotch, and I instantly bend down for my clothes regardless of how much it hurts. He’s always been a lot freer when it comes to nudity. Granted, he does have a cock made for porn. Fucking asshole.
“So… what’s your big plan for tonight now that you’ve gone and set your dick on fire?”
I grit my teeth as I straighten. “Tonight will be about her, not me.” I shove one leg into my pants, but Asher grabs me before I can do the same with the other one.
“Hold up, cuz. You need aloe vera to decrease the swelling. And some bandages. How awkward would it be if you get admitted for a necrotic dick?”
The hairs on my neck stand up. Nevertheless, I yank my arm free from him. Pain instantly shoots out from my dick, down my legs, and up my spine, causing me to fall over.
He laughs as he heads out of the kitchen.
“Fucking asshole,” I shout after him, the pain making it really hard to think of more words than those two.
“Glad you’re okay, Rath.”
My irritation fades at his soft words.
Using a chair to pull myself up, I glance down at my lap. The first twinges of regret inch through me, but I squash them quickly.
I might have ruined my chance of fucking her tonight, but it’s what I deserve. At least this way, I will never put my own selfish needs above hers ever again.
“You know branding can take twelve months to heal, right?” Asher says casually as he walks into the kitchen with a tube of aloe vera. He squeezes a dollop onto his finger, then points at me. Swatting his hand away, I jerk the tube out of his grip.
“No,” I say begrudgingly.
“It hurt a lot?” he asks.
My jaw clenches. “What the fuck do you think?” I squeeze a fresh lob of the stuff onto my fingertip. The coolness of it makes me keen to smother my entire dick in it.
“For a doctor, you are being really dumb right now,” he teases. “I guess that’s why you’re only an anesthesiologist and not an actual doctor.”
“What the fuck are you –” I cut myself off as I look up at him. Knowledge burns itself unwantedly in my brain. A third-degree burn would sear away the nerves and eliminate the pain...
He grins wildly at me.
“No,” I growl.
“You’ll be able to fuck her without crying.” He looks too damn happy about this.
“No.”
“Suit yourself. I was just trying to help.” He holds up his hands. “I’m sure she’ll be A-okay with not getting dicked for a year –”
