legs and massaged it back and forth over her pussy lips. She widened her stance to accommodate him, and Bael lifted one of her feet to rest on the edge of the tub. Kett tensed, but instead of moving his head between her legs, he ducked to the side and kissed the outside of her thigh.
Kett went utterly still, because his tongue was darting over the rip of pink flesh where the tiger had crippled her.
“Does it hurt?” he asked, looking up, and she shook her head in tiny jerks. Smiling, Bael resumed kissing and licking the length of the terrible scar, dropping the soap as he did and letting his fingers take over between her legs.
“What are you doing?” Kett gasped as the water poured down on them both.
Bael flicked her clit with his fingertip. “What’s it feel like?”
“Like you’re licking my scar, you sick man.”
Bael rolled his eyes. “Last time I licked your scars, what did it do?”
Kett said nothing.
“You mad woman,” he added, and her foot lightly kicked his back. Smiling, he carried on, but when he’d kissed and licked his way along her thigh half a dozen times, he figured it was time to stop. He lowered her foot to the ground, brought up the hand he’d been stroking her with and sucked her moisture off his fingers.
Her eyes never left his face.
“Turn around,” he said, his voice low, and she did. Bael pressed against her back, feeling her body twitch as her bare breasts touched the cold, wet tiles. He brushed her hair from the back of her neck and kissed her there. She shuddered delightfully.
He started kissing and licking over the crosshatch of scars on her back, his fingers once more delving between her legs and finding her even hotter and wetter than he’d left her. And while she writhed and his cock ached, he concentrated on covering every inch of her scarred back with his mouth, healing her bit by bit.
Some other asshole had created these marks. But maybe Bael could ease them.
He was using both hands now, one curving around between her belly and the wall to stroke her clit, rub up and down, make circles around it, and the other delving into her hot, wet pussy to find that sweet spot inside that made her convulse.
She came to one shuddering orgasm like that, his fingers inside her and his mouth on her back, and then he slipped his hand back a little, probing at the tight ring of her ass.
She tensed, and he murmured against her skin, “Do you want me to?”
“Sure,” she said, her tone almost nonchalant. Almost. “If you want.”
Smiling, he stroked her there and she gave a low moan. His fingers were slick from her orgasm and he slipped inside easily, his other hand still stroking her clit and her swollen, puffy labia. When he’d pushed one finger all the way into her ass, he did the same with her pussy and finger-fucked her, feeling how close his fingers were inside her. Wondering if she’d ever done this before-she doubtless had. Had she ever done it with two men? Felt one thick cock push into her pussy while another filled her from behind?
He decided he didn’t care. His cock was full to bursting and he’d kissed all the way down her spine to the white lines crossing the top of her buttocks. He needed to be inside her, now, before he came all over the bathroom tiles.
He hadn’t prepared her enough for a rear entry and he wasn’t brutal enough to try. So he kept his hand where it was between her buttocks, his finger pressed inside her, and angled her hips to line his cock up against her hot, wet folds.
“We’ll do it this way later,” he promised, flexing his finger inside her, and a moan was his reply.
Bael pushed inside Kett’s hot, tight pussy, loving the way her slick flesh fit around him so well. He stayed motionless for a long moment, until she writhed against him, then reluctantly he withdrew his hand from her ass. He couldn’t move properly that way, and he wanted to thrust into her.
The water, by now running cold, pounded down on them both. Bael slid his hands around to cup her breasts, knead her firm flesh and pinch her nipples as he rocked inside her, but that wasn’t enough. He needed to thrust, hard, and he grabbed her hips to plunge into her relentlessly, driven by a fierce need to possess her.
She moaned as he pounded into her, biting the back of her neck and quickly going mindless. How did she do this to him? How did she affect him this way? No one else ever had. Only Kett could turn him into a total animal, desperate to brand her as his, to hold her and keep her and pleasure her until they were both senseless with it.
The pleasure inside him built to a crescendo, spurred on by Kett’s moans and cries, and as he succumbed to his massive orgasm, he heard himself gasp her name.
“I love you,” he murmured, as the water cascaded onto them and her body trembled in his arms.
Driven to distraction by his mouth and hands and fierce, pounding cock, Kett felt herself tip over into orgasm at the same time Bael gasped her name and emptied himself into her. He gripped her tight, his body tense and hard against her back, his arms gradually sliding around her body to hold her close.
His breath was harsh in her ear. She thought she heard him murmur something but the sound of the water drowned it out.
They stayed still and close for a while, until the chill of the water negated the heat from Bael’s body and Kett shifted away. Silently, she soaped and rinsed herself, and was about to step out of the bathtub when Bael slid his arm around her waist and kissed her with infinite sweetness.
“Kett,” he said, his face earnest and his eyes serious, as if he wanted to tell her something, but then he closed his eyes, fingers tensing at her waist, and shook his head. “You’re cold,” he said lamely.
She nodded, disconcerted, and wrapped herself in a towel. “I have to talk to Nuala,” she said, “and make some calls. You should get some rest. Nu said you were exhausted.”
He gave her a cocky grin, much more like the Bael she knew. “You should know.”
She rolled her eyes but she was smiling as she went to get dressed.
Leaving Bael to take a post-coital nap, she took herself downstairs in search of some coffee and solitude. Despite the immense size of Nuala’s house, it proved difficult. Family members prowled in every room. Rain hammered on the windows, which always made her father moody like a little boy.
“Does it on purpose,” her father accused.
“But you weren’t going to go anywhere anyway,” Kett said.
“I might,” he said mulishly.
“So get wet. You ain’t made of sugar.”
He scowled at that, and Kett shook her head and took her leave of him. She found Beyla with some of her extremely giggly, extremely young and extremely annoying friends, occupying one of the sitting rooms.
She backed out fast.
“Kett!” Beyla called.
Not fast enough.
“What?” Kett asked sharply, in no mood to put up with anything girlie.
“Dierdra’s having problems with her crochet. Can you help?”
Kett blinked, trapped. Dammit, of all the secrets to confess to her sisters.
“I-ain’t got a needle,” she fudged, unwilling to show anything that looked like a softer side to these girls. All of them were wearing frills and hairstyles that must have taken a pointless age to finesse.
One of the girls, presumably Dierdra, since she was the one holding a ball of wool, giggled. “You can borrow mine,” she said, a slight smirk on her face. “I’m afraid the wool is very soft though. No wire in it.”
She wanted to humiliate Kett.
Beyla caught her eye. Her eyelid flickered in what might have been a wink.
Beyla wanted to humiliate Dierdra.
Kett fantasized briefly about just stabbing the irritating bubblehead with her own crochet needle, shook her head and strode forward. Her leather jeans creaked as she moved. Her damp hair brushed wet circles on her shirt. Her boots thudded.
She held out her hands, took the needle and wool-which was pink, what else-and briskly made the stitch. “Move the needle, not the wool, and keep it tight, don’t let it go slack. Got it?”
They stared at her. Dierdra said, “But-but how-you can
