Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Instead of putting me in bed, Nix takes me to the bathroom, where Colt runs water in the tub. It doesn’t take long to fill, and Nix is gentle as he lowers me into the scented, steamy water. It’s miraculous, loosening up my sore muscles, giving me a little bit of comfort at last.
They sit on either side of the tub, both of them washing me slowly, almost tenderly. Nix runs a soapy rag over my arms while Colt takes my legs. When the rag makes contact with my extremely sore inner thighs, he eases the pressure, barely brushing against me before gently running the rag over my pussy.
Nix gets up, returning a few moments later with a nightshirt and a couple of towels. Colt helps me stand, wrapping one of the towels around my body while Nix wrings the water from my hair with the other. They don’t say a word to each other through all of this, and neither of them speaks to me. They don’t need to. I don’t have anything to say anyway, and I doubt I would have the strength to speak even if I did know what a person says in a situation like this.
Once I’m in bed, tucked in, Colt moves for the door—but Nix doesn’t. “You coming?” Colt asks him, but Nix waves him off before turning back to me.
I’m so exhausted I can hardly keep my eyes open. “What do you want?” I whisper.
“I want to make you come.”
“No, you don’t have to do that. I’m too sore, anyway.”
“But you deserve it.” He’s already pulling back the blanket that he only just tucked around me.
“You don’t have to, really. I just want to sleep.” I may as well be talking to myself for all the good it does. He stretches out near the foot of the bed and parts my thighs, working the nightshirt up to my hips. Now I know why he didn’t bother bringing in panties. Was he already planning on this? What does it matter? My body is not really my own anymore, anyway.
The first touch of his tongue against my swollen, abused flesh makes me flinch, but all he does is stroke my legs and plant gentle kisses against my thighs, my mound. When he tries again to probe deeper, it feels better. Nicer. After a minute or two, I can’t help moaning a little. This isn’t like before, downstairs. He’s not doing this just because somebody told him to. It’s almost like he wants to do it, like he likes it. And every time I moan, it seems to please him, and he repeats whatever it was he just did to make me have that reaction. I would almost think it’s sweet if it were anybody else doing it.
Before long, that doesn’t matter, either. Nothing matters except the delicious heat now building, growing, and spreading from deep in my core until I’d swear I was on fire. My nerves sizzle and my back arches, my legs closing around his head until finally, it’s all too much. I can’t hold back. I don’t want to.
Still, I bite down on my fist to stifle my pleasure. I don’t want James to hear. I don’t want him to know. By the time the delicious aftershocks fade away, the guilt and shame wash over me like a tidal wave. How can I come after what they did to me? How can I let Nix—someone who has caused me so much pain—make me feel good? I feel like a failure. A failure to myself and all other women out there.
A sob rips from my throat, then another, and before I know it, I’m full-on hysterically crying. My whole body is shaking, my vision so blurry I might as well be blind.
“Fuck. I didn’t mean to…” Nix sounds like he is seriously shocked. Well, that makes two of us. “What’s wrong?” I bury my face in my palms, but Nix grabs my wrists and pulls them away. “What the hell is wrong? Why are you crying?”
“Why? Don’t you realize what a mind fuck this is? You are the one who hurt me. You used me, humiliated, and discarded me. And now you want to come in here and make me feel good because ‘I deserve it’? What the fuck am I supposed to make of this?”
When I blink my tears away enough to make out his facial expression, he stares at me dumbfounded as if he seriously doesn’t understand why I’m acting this way. “I did this to make you feel better.”
“This is the last thing I wanted. Why in the world would you think this would make me feel better?”
Nix pushes himself up on his palms before running his hands through his short hair. “Because this is all I know, Leni. I guess I don’t actually know how to make anyone feel better.”