He sneers.
"What makes you think you can handle it?"
"How about we find out?" I wink, playing along, wild to the core.
He steps aside and lets me lead the way. Elated, I do, intertwining my fingers with his and dragging him along, and he follows, still wearing that silly grin.
With my free hand, I push open the door of the bathroom and launch myself in, desperate to fully get my hands on him.
"Wait..." He stalls behind and swings my hands to lay emphasis.
"What?" I turn to face him. "Common, what is it?" I urge him further.
"Ain't we forgetting something?" He prompts.
I shrug, with nothing coming to mind.
"I asked that you return intact..."
I scoff. "What's this? Hendrix, is this you questioning me, or me tryna run you a bath and a dirty treat? Which is it?"
"This is you evading the question. Are you intact?" He narrows his gaze, his eyes now a deep shade of blue, immensely laced with arousal.
Not responding, I turn to get into the bathroom, dragging him along, but he halts me, his hands firmly on mine.
"Hendrix..."
"Making this easier will be the best for us, darling, don't you think? We both know you want this as much as I do."
I exhale, swallowing imaginative hard nuts.
"Are you intact?" His voice is low, the depth of his baritone wrecking my soul in shreds.
"Yes." I whisper.
There's a smirk lurking at the corner of his lips... wild, nasty, and above all, dangerous.
"Show, don't tell." He sweeps his tongue across his lower lips and sucks it in.
"Huh?" I gasp, already picturing what he seeks.
"Prove it... strip." He orders.
I begin to quiver, I mean he orders me every damn time, but I still find it alluring whenever he does, especially when giving his dirty desires.
Letting go of his hand, I face him squarely. Slowly, I undo each button of my gown, one at a time, and delicately, I let the dress slip off my shoulders, exposing me to the barest minimum.
As it falls off my chest, and down my waist, it reveals the thick slimy fluid that keeps it clinging to my bud for this long... shamefully soaked with my precum.
I gasped, my breath suddenly labored.
He comes closer, each step as though he deliberates. My whole body is visibly shaky. Unexpectedly, he pats my bud that's swollen from arousal, smearing my juices all over.
I throw my head backward and suck in air. No, I don't need his mercy.
Just right in time, I return to see his hand to his face, as he rubs all fingers together, and spreads them apart with sticky fluid coming off.
Damn! Was I that aroused?
I duck my head.
"Good girl." He comments and walks into the bathroom.
Just like that? I scoff. Right now, I need to offload all of my slutty shakes, or else I would explode in minutes.
Getting in, I close the door and turn on the shower, while I control the snooze. He lets me run it across his chest, as I flick off mud with my free hand, and tender a gentle massage.
"Close your eyes." I command, enjoying the turn of events.
He obeys.
I rush the water in slow fashion over his face and hair, raking through the thick curls. Switching off the shower and setting the snooze aside, I smear a quality amount of liquid soap on my palm, rub them together, and begin washing him.
Bit by bit, inch by inch, until I'm satisfied.
Claiming the handle, I wash the lather off his skin, until he's clean as could be. Sensing my intention from my flirty moves, he takes the handle from me and sets it aside, with water running at liberty.
I kneel, and run my fingers across his abdomen, going wild at how hard his abs are. No matter how much I see and touch them, they leave me in awe every damn time.
Across his tattoo of me, and belly button, I run my fingers down. Next, is the black thick hair that forms a sexy carpet just above his rod. Running my fingers over it, I lace them in it.
Light moans escape his throat.
"I like the sound of that." I mock. Wrapping my palm over his rod, I lift it up and take in his balls, sucking them in one at a time. I play with them with my tongue.
"Uhh..." He groans.
Taking him in, I only manage a quarter the length of his rod in my mouth, as I let him thrust in and out of me. Just the right time he needs to control me.
He gently grabs my hair and presses me to himself, inflating my mouth with the extra length of him.
I gag, and this time, he mocks.
Ablaze, I rub on my clit as I deliver a neat blow job.
"Your hands." He says. "Put your hands up."
Reluctantly, I let go of my clit and do as he says. He puts my hands together, above my head, and continues thrusting in and out of my mouth.
He frees himself, as his rod bounces out of my mouth like a pressured spring. He pulls me up and swiftly places me on the wall.
"My turn." He sneers.
He nudges my legs apart, and not hesitating, seals his lips over my aching bud, and pulls me in.
I moan, rocking my bud over his face, unable to contain further torture.
When he frees himself to breathe, he continues with his fingers, roughly shoving them in and out, and pleasing me with his thumb as he rubs it on my clit.
"Uh... right there." I gasp.
He continues, thrusting further and farther in. Pulling out, he stands up, wraps me in his arms, and slams me on the door.
I groan, partly out of pain and pleasure.
"Take me." I surrender.
And just as I wished, he lifts my thigh and sets my leg on the sink, providing him the access needed, and in swift seconds, slams right in, riding me in a smooth rhythm, as we ride to the highest of heavens.
"Don't cum yet." He commands, his voice laced with passion.
I throw my head backward, enjoying every feel of him, as he rests his head on my racks and satisfies my aching nipples. I press his head on my racks, desperate for a release.
"Let it flow." He orders beautifully.
He groans, shooting his semen inside me unapologetically, while I pour out doses of my juice. And with gentle thrust, he soothes us both before his now flaccid rod slips out from my sore and slimy bud.
We rush over a warm bath, washing filth from one another, before walking hand in hand into his bedroom. Shirtless, he lays, and I, on top of him. What's the worst that can happen?
A sore bud isn't too much of a price for this pleasure.
"I love you, Natalie." He smiles, sniffing the scent of my shampoo.
I lift my head to face him and return his smile.
"I love you too." I confess, just the same time his eyelids close.
I sigh, hoping he heard me. For this one man, I would be gladly vulnerable.
Changing position, I wrap him in my arms as I watch him sleep beautifully. His full plush lips, high cheekbones, nose of a British god, and thick black curls.
He's the sexiest demigod.
I press a kiss on his forehead. He lays cuddled up in my bosom and pressed on my bare racks, his heavy panting slowly becoming soft breath as he drifts to deep sleep, minute by minute.
He looks so innocent and calm, like a child. It is as though he wasn't the person sobbing intensely hours ago. And I'm glad he's finding peace in his temporal escape.
I watch the rise and fall of his chest, the soft smile that occasionally creases his lips, the way his brows arch and his lips twitch like he's in a dream, a beautiful one.
I bend downward and press a soft feather-like kiss on his forehead again, watching him with admiration.
Long seconds turn minutes and minutes into hours. My bum cheeks are already hurting. I gently adjust and place his head on the soft pillow.
He makes a soft sigh and whimpers like a child, making me giggle. I wish I could capture this moment forever. Sure he's comfortable, I stand up.
Going to his wardrobe, I pick out a baggy shirt and get in, feeling so comfy. My voluptuous racks dangle beneath the shirt and my sore cunt is bare of any fabric.
I walk outside and monitor the herbs he was brewing before the procession, I have no idea about herbal mix, so I switch off the cooker and let it cool. Restless, I wander back inside and into the house.
First to the kitchen, and then to late doctor Cain's room. I open the door to see a neatly arranged room, stacks of books piled up neatly, a tray of tablets, and voluminous textbooks.
At the extreme is a spaced-out lab, with pipette, test tubes in racks, and jars of chemicals, you could smell the awful stench of a few from afar.
Bored, I turn to leave, but the shelves just above the study beckons to me.
I turn back fully and go to the shelve, ransacking the whole place in search of anything at all. If he truly kept the child from birth, he would have some memories of Hendrix, maybe his parents and his community.
A place he would feel safe, or maybe we would run to for refuge when it all gets heated up here.
There's nothing at all, after over thirty minutes of ransacking. Exhausted, I begin to pack them back, so I return to his bedside before he wakes up.
Surprisingly, a small envelope falls off a big textbook. Eager, I pick it up, hoping it would be something helpful.
Skilfully, I detach the seal, careful enough to not break it, should it be something too private to interfere.
In the tiny envelope, there's a small letter. I bring it out and read the content quietly.
'Dear Doctor Cain,
I hope this letter meets you well, not like I care though. Report reaching me is that you've conducted the autopsy on the late alpha, and would announce it in two days time when the results comes out.
So you know, he was poisoned. And if you decide to air the right report, be ready to loose the human child.
Best regards,
Anonymous.'