Page 24 of Surrender
Chapter 13
Merokk heldonto Betsy as the water cascaded over their bodies.
He liked holding her, and a strange warmth filled him as he ran his hands up and down her back. He swept her wet hair out of the way and peered into her eyes. Her face remained flushed, but whether it was from thoughts of the intimacies they’d recently shared, or the steam of the shower, he didn’t know.
“You’re so beautiful, Betsy,” he said.
“Thank you, Merokk,” she replied, averting her gaze. She stared at his chest.
“Put your hands on me, little one,” he said. “Go on. We’re married. You’re allowed to touch me.” His cock hardened against her stomach and he nearly growled as pleasurable tingles shot up his thighs, but he wouldn’t take her again tonight. She kept blinking slowly and he sensed her deep fatigue. She needed her rest.
Tentatively, she reached for him, placing her hands on his chest. Her fingers danced over his flesh and his manhood thickened further. Her gaze brimmed with uncertainty and the urge to comfort her swelled inside him.
How strange, these tender feelings he was beginning to harbor for his new wife.
He felt a smile tug at his lips when she covered a sudden, huge yawn.
“Sorry,” she murmured. “It’s been a long day.”
“Indeed, it has,” he agreed. “We’d best get you into bed.”
He turned the water off and grabbed her a towel from a nearby hook. He wrapped it around her and guided her out of the shower. Lust heated his blood as he watched her start drying herself off. Her skin was flushed from the hot water, though he noticed extra pinkness on her inner thighs and her pert little bottom.
Dark satisfaction rolled through him to see her wearing his marks. But when he noticed her gently toweling off her thighs, he cleared his throat and gave her a pointed look.
“Once you’re finished drying off, sit on the chair right there,” he said.
She shot him a confused glance but soon nodded, then she continued working the towel through her hair and over her body. He grabbed his own towel and hurried to dry himself off, eager to finish tending to Betsy.
Once he was dried off, he placed the towel back on the hook and turned to face his nervous little bride, who was obediently sitting in the chair. Her hands trembled, ever so slightly, and an anxious gleam reflected in her eyes. No doubt she was uneasy because she had no idea why he’d ordered her to sit, rather than finish getting ready for bed.
He drew in a deep breath, savoring the fresh scent of her, then he strode to one of the cabinets and opened it. He searched the contents until he found what he was seeking—a soothing balm to rub on Betsy’s punished inner thighs.
As he unscrewed the jar, he sank down before her. “Move the towel aside and spread your legs, little one.”
She drew in a shaky breath but quickly complied, shifting the towel out of the way and parting her thighs. He ran a finger along her marred flesh, making a tsking noise deep in his throat.
“If you’d been a good girl and told me what you truly wanted, rather than lie to me, you wouldn’t have gotten your thighs smacked,” he said in a scolding tone, even as he scooped a dollop of the soothing cream onto his fingers.
“Yes, sir,” she said, “I-I know, and I am sorry about that.” Her cheeks turned bright pink and she lowered her head, allowing her damp hair to partially hide her face.
“Nevertheless,” he continued, still employing the stern tone, “I don’t want you tossing and turning in discomfort tonight.” He began applying the balm to her right thigh, taking his time as he rubbed it into her tender flesh. If she’d seriously disobeyed him, he wouldn’t grant her this relief, but he understood her embarrassment had likely led her to tell the lie.
“Thank you, Merokk,” she said, a soft sigh escaping her. Her eyes flitted to his and she shot him a grateful smile.
“You’re welcome,” he said, then switched to rubbing the balm into her left thigh. Once he finished, he guided her to her feet. “You may finish getting ready for bed now.”
She nodded and hurried to brush her teeth and dry her hair. He ventured back into the bedroom and donned a pair of black sleeping shorts. As he turned around, he caught her staring at him from the bathroom doorway, but she quickly glanced away and made haste for her closet. He noticed she was still wearing the towel, apparently wishing to maintain her modesty. Perhaps after a few more days of marriage she would feel more comfortable around him.
As she got dressed in her closet, he returned to the bathroom to brush his own teeth. By the time he was finished and strode back into the bedroom, she was already underneath the covers, laying on her side and facing the wall, her eyes shut tight.
He tried to ignore the rejection he felt at her sudden withdrawal. Her uneven breaths revealed she wasn’t sleeping yet, the little pretender. With a growing sense of frustration, he turned off the lights, then approached the bed.
As he joined her under the covers, he longed to roll onto her side of the bed and gather her in his arms. But his pride kept him from doing so.
Eventually, she succumbed to sleep, her slow but steady breaths drifting to him in the darkness.
Had he merely imagined the tenderness he’d felt for her earlier? No, he decided, after he examined the warmth for her that still brimmed in his chest. It troubled him that she was growing on him so quickly, this little human who’d been thrust into his life.
