Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 91631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
"Because we both know this happens when you touch me and I know you don't like it." His expression is tense, like he's waiting for me to bitch at him for having an erection.
"You can't control it," I point out, even as I move forward and take a washcloth from one of the piles near the communal shower.
"I do not think I would, even if I could," he says in a low voice. "That makes me a problem."
I swallow hard, because I don't know what to say. He likes getting hard around me. God help me, maybe I'm weird, because I like it, too. I like the feeling of knowing I can do this to him, and what does that say about me?
Crulden pauses for a moment, lifting his head. "There's that scent again."
"What scent?"
"On you. You sometimes have it in the morning." He leans in and breathes deep, and I swear to god, his cock twitches. "Why does it smell so amazing? What is it?"
"I don't know," I admit, and look around for soap. I guess I'm washing him. It's a no-brainer. I know I shouldn't touch him, shouldn't encourage this, even as I find the soap dispenser, activate it, and rub the wet dollop into the towel. His talk of scents is distracting me when I really want to focus on important things.
Things like that dick vein. And the fact that his foreskin has pulled back, revealing more of his fascinating cock. Things like his perfect, gorgeous ass.
Basically all the things I shouldn't be noticing.
I reach out and wet the cloth in the shower spray. Crulden hasn't moved from his spot under the spray heads, and I imagine all this hot water must feel good on tired muscles. I move closer to him, ignoring the fact that the water is spattering off of his skin and making my shift damp, and I place the cloth on his lower arm to start. "You fought well today," I say softly, but I'm not thinking about fighting. Instead, I notice that his dick twitches the moment I touch him, reacting to my nearness. I was supposed to bring up something important, but I'm having a hard time remembering what it is. Oh. Scientist. Right. "But we do need to talk."
"About?"
I slide the cloth up his arm and he groans, eyes closing, and warmth coils in my belly at his reaction. He makes it such a pleasure to touch him. I wash all the parts I can reach, and then move along to his back, running the cloth over his broad muscles and trying not to be too much of a lecher. "You nearly lost it when you thought the scientist was scaring me. You've got to remember that we're in a vulnerable situation."
He grunts, shifting his feet.
"I'm serious. There's going to be times that they scare me a little, just because of who they are and who I am. It doesn't mean you need to step in and freak out. I'll let you know when I need you to handle things."
"You don't need anyone."
I'm surprised to hear him say that. Me? Not need anyone? Is he insane? I'm the most vulnerable person here at this compound. The moment the thought crosses my head, though, I know it's not true. We're all vulnerable in different ways. The ooli slaves are trampled on by the overseer and ignored by the clones. The clones are brutalized by the glads. The glads are brutalized by their trainers. I kinda fall nowhere in that mix, and so I guess I get away with as much as I can while trying to fly under the radar. I've never had to suck anyone's dick for a meal, after all, and I know that some of the ooli haven't had the same luxury.
It's interesting that he sounds so sad when he says that, too. Like he's sad that I don't need him. "You're wrong," I say softly as I scrub his back, the cloth moving down the enticing length of his spine. God, he's gorgeous. His skin ripples over his muscles and he's just strength and beauty all tied up into an appealing package. I wonder if I can wash his buttocks without him reading too much into it, and then I decide I'm going to anyhow. Fuck it.
Daring greatly, I drag the cloth over the globe of one ass cheek, rubbing.
Crulden goes very, very still.
I bite my lip, wondering if I'm being a creep. He hasn't given me permission to touch him, and if the tables were turned, how would I feel? Am I just toying with him? Hot shame darts through me and I pull away. "If I'm touching you too personally—"
"No," he says quickly. "I don't mind. I…I like it. Keep touching me, Mina." His voice lowers to a husky almost-purr. "Please."