“Now, some rules,” he said, voice gone husky as roughened palms skimmed over her shoulders to her back. “You’ll not be sleeping all day any longer.”
“Yes, sir.” Aida bit her tongue, hoping it wiser not to mention that Otaso kept her to a far more rigorous schedule, though he’d never once kept her awake until the roosters crowed.
“You’ll tend my every need.”
Aida bit the side of her lip hard, uncertain where his anger came from as his voice grew harsh. Certain she’d given the proper response, remaining calm as his touch became rougher, more demanding, she found herself fumbling in a way she hadn’t in a very long time. Otaso’s rule had been complete, set in place long before she could even think of acting against it.
“I’ll not go around with your slick tainting me. You will wash me every morning. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” Teeth sinking further her lip to worry at the tender flesh, she kept her thoughts quiet. Didn’t mention he’d dressed before he woke her, though her gaze skittered in the abandoned pile’s direction. Hoping to hide the act, she spotted the waxy bar of soap perched on the ledge. Leaning over, she picked it up, dunking it into the water to slick its surface. Clenching fingers fumbling their grip half a dozen times as her hand moved from the water to the wide expanse of his chest, she kept her focus centered on the heavy medallion settled in the center of the sparse curling hairs there.
Intricate for such a small piece, the deep bronzed hues shimmered and glinted with a light all their own. A single, multifaceted red stone sat proud in the center with a dusting of chips in various other colors following a strange twisting sweep of a half circle. Fascinating as it was, as much as she tried to explore each curve of metal, Aida found her gaze drifting to the firm skin beneath it.
She’d never examined the male form unburdened by robes and armor. The breadth of his shoulders, the rolling hills and valleys of stern muscle all gliding under the soap as her touch grew less timid, her scrutiny bolder. The rich golden brown of his skin was not a mere product of the sun’s kiss, the deep coloring flowing down his chest and over the curve of hip and thigh, her hands following the thinning trail of hair centered there.
Shimmying back on his thighs, her head ducked at his warning. Trembling hand aloft, gripping the soap so tight she worried it might shoot out from between her fingers, she gestured at the length of his legs. Aida regretted it in an instant.
Shoving her off his lap, he stood before her. Leaving her kneeling in the water, now eye level with the jutting length of flesh that tormented her as much as the man himself. Blinking hard, she tried to ignore the warmth in her cheeks that prickled over her ears and down onto her chest. Setting soap to skin she swept the frothy mass of bubbles over his hips and thighs. Avoiding the thing that twitched and throbbed before her, she washed every other inch of him.
“All of me, princess,” he ground out once Aida guided his foot back to the tub floor.
Wrist caught in a punishing grip, Aida hissed when he pushed her hand to the hard plane of his lower stomach. Sucking her lips in between her teeth, brows knitting a furious cadence of equal parts dread and anticipation, she skimmed the bar over his length. Shivered when he made a low sound that ended on a deep rumble. One stroke became two, the heady scent of him growing stronger. Overpowering the scent of cedar and herbs, coating her tongue as the swollen red crown of him glistened with something far more potent than water.
The hand braced at his calf came up against her volition. Encircling the pulsing thickness, her eyes grew wide as she realized her fingers could not even touch. Holding him firm at the base, the soap slipped from her slack hand as she did the same with it. The barest squeak of sound escaping as his palm covered the back of her head, pulling her in. Aida didn’t struggle, lips parting as her tongue reached out to touch glistening flesh. Her quiet moan cut off as he shoved forward, choking off her breath.
Tongue smeared with bubbles, she sputtered and slapped at his thighs. Wrenching away with twisted lips, mouth pooling with saliva as she gagged on the disgusting taste. Even the intoxicating flavor of him became lost in the thick slime coating her mouth.
Aida keened as he bent over, ducking to protect against a blow as he reached for her. His snarled words slamming against her ears, stabbing along hunched shoulders, a miserable sob threatened to burst from between her lips.
“Spit it out, kou’va,” he said through a low growl, gathering her hair in his fist, twisting the strands as he jerked her head up.
Cheeks aflame, Aida jerked her head in denial. Mortification turned her stomach into a molten, churning mass. She’d never done something so demeaning and crass as to spit as he demanded. Attempting such a thing in front of him was beyond her tolerance to remain passive to his orders. Clamping her lips together, she shook her head again even as he grabbed her around the middle and pinned her arms at her sides when she tried to cover her mouth. Bent over the side of the bath, he slapped her in the middle of the back. Aida refused to comply.
There was no stopping her open-mouthed scream when he changed his target. Kicking her thighs apart, his hand came up between them, the loud smack of wet skin coming together sending the shrill noise clawing up her throat. The frothy mess spilled over her lips as she hung over his arm, coughing and gasping in turns as
