Page 13 of Tornn's Mate
Captain Warren could’ve at least asked for volunteers instead of handpicking the particular women he’d chosen. Instead, he’d taken the cruelest, most self-serving path possible when it came to selecting brides.
“You’re drenched between your thighs, sweet human,” Tornn says, reaching down to squeeze my center. “Before I administer your spanking, I’m going to get you all cleaned up. Let me set you on the bed for a moment while I fetch a damp cloth for your nether area.”
He lifts me as though I weigh nothing and places me on the bed, laying me on my back. My knees are bent, my legs parted, and though I know I’m shamefully exposed, I don’t have the energy to cover myself. So, I remain in place while he ventures to what I assume is a bathroom. I hear water running, and when I peek open my eyes and turn my head, I have a clear view of him washing his hands.
He peers through the doorway, his heated purple gaze searing me like a brand. Yes, he must view me as his property. I can see it in his eyes. The sure knowledge of his possession.
Despite my utter fatigue, I blush furiously under his penetrating stare, and the pulsing remnants of my powerful orgasm reignite. Decadent pulsations stir between my thighs, a faint echo of the intense pleasure he’d just inflicted upon me.
He grabs a cloth from a rack and runs it under the sink, then hurries to my side. I try to move when I realize his intentions—he wants to physically wipe the moisture from between my thighs. But I’m so weak in the aftermath of the release, that I can’t quite move yet.
My face burns as he delves the cloth to my aching center and carefully wipes away my arousal. He even drags the damp cloth along the insides of my thighs. My legs tremble as he tends to me, and though I’m terribly embarrassed by what he’s doing, there’s a part of me that swoons. All things considered, his actions are sort of sweet.
He's taking care of me.
“There you go,” he says in a voice that’s almost warm. “All clean. My sweet human.”
Sweet human.
For a reason I can’t fathom, I like when he calls me that. It’s an endearment. Like a pet name. In some of the romance novels I’ve secretly read over the years, some of the heroes and heroines had pet names for each other. I always thought the custom strange, but to my surprise, I find I like it now that I’m on the receiving end.
Nathan never called me by any endearments. Sadness pangs in my chest, and I don’t understand why. Only that thoughts of him leave me conflicted.
Once Tornn finishes cleaning me, he traipses to the bathroom and tosses the cloth somewhere out of my vision. He returns immediately and sits beside me. Before I can process what’s happening, he lifts me and guides me over his lap again.
My heart races.
Oh God. Oh no.
He’s going to spank me.
He wants to give me a taste of what to expect if I ever earn a true punishment from him. A whimper drifts from my throat as I fear he’s going to whip me. But he doesn’t appear to have a belt or a strap of any sort. A small measure of relief fills me, but it soon vanishes as he cups my bottom with one large hand.
I recall how quickly he’d grabbed my suitcase, and unease tightens in my gut. He’s fast and built of pure muscle and probably doesn’t need a belt or a strap to make his point.
This is going to hurt. Badly. I know it.
I pull in a deep breath and brace myself, but he doesn’t strike me immediately, and I soon have no choice but to resume breathing as normally as I can. Anticipation skitters through me as he commences rubbing my butt, moving from cheek to cheek and back again.
His hand is large and warm, his touch strangely intimate. Possessive. I can’t shake the feeling that he truly owns me. Never mind that we haven’t physically joined our bodies yet.
It’s like I know there’s already no going back. No chance I’ll ever live on theJansonnaagain. No chance I’ll marry Nathan. I’ll probably never see him again. And my mother and sister… I push thoughts of them aside because it’s just too fucking painful.
A sense of vulnerability settles over me. I’m stripped of all my defenses and feeling so goddamn emotional right now that it’s a wonder I’m not crying.
What will Tornn think if I break down in tears? Will he think I’m sobbing because I’m afraid or in pain?
“Shh,” he says in the gentlest tone he’s used thus far. “It’s all right, sweet human.”
I haven’t made any noise that I’m aware of, but his tenderly spoken words wash over me, steeping me in an unexpected state of comfort and safety.
His hands leave my bottom, only for his fingertips to dance over the seam of my pussy lips. I lift my center to meet his touch. I can’t help it. The fervent ache has returned to my core, and I’m desperate for another climax.
If I’m obedient while he swats my butt, will he grant me a second release? I can only hope, and I vow that I’ll be on my best behavior. No matter how badly it hurts. No matter how embarrassing it is that I’m draped over my new husband’s lap about to receive a spanking.
He skims my clit but doesn’t apply any pressure, and it’s all I can do to prevent a groan of frustration. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from calling out.
“So slick and pink and wet,” he says. “I cleaned you off moments ago, yet your private parts are already gleaming under a fresh sheen of your arousal. Tell me, little Ellie, are you aching again? Is your clit throbbing?”
