“Let me wash you,” I said, changing the subject.
He kissed my back. “No.”
“Vince,” I said, swallowing as tension filled my muscles.
With a long breath, he rubbed his face against my lower back, hands finally stilling. “Sweetheart, I want to take care of you. Please let me. I need this.”
I could feel his desperation to care for me. It was hard, though. But I couldn’t deny my mate something he required, and deep down, I was certain I needed this more than he did.
“Alright.”
With another gentle kiss, he continued his ministrations. Vince’s every touch was soft as he scrubbed me clean, no speck left unwashed. He even made me sit so he could wash my hair. His fingers rubbed the products through the long strands, then massaged my scalp while he hummed a light tune. It didn’t have a true melody, but I joined him, humming along, and soon we found a rhythm all our own—one I would never forget.
Unable to stop it, my cock lifted, poking out of the water. Beads of pre-seed slid out of the slit as Vince massaged myscalp. I swallowed a needy groan. I wanted him to fuck me again. Because of my large size, I wasn’t often on the bottom or snuggled or treated gently, all of which I craved. Vince easily and happily met those needs.
My tail coiling around Vince’s wrist, I scoured his thoughts—sex wasn’t on his mind. Loving on me was.
“Close your eyes, Sweetheart,” Vince said right before I heard metal scraping on stone. He had to be grabbing the detachable nozzle on the side of the tub. I complied, and warm water rushed over my hair as Vince washed the cleanser off. I only opened my eyes when I heard the metal of the nozzle hit the side of the tub once again.
The water sloshed over the sides as Vince climbed around me. I averted my gaze when he moved directly in front of me—my needy cock was obvious.
Soft fingers grabbed my chin, and Vince made me look at him. He kissed me, then muttered against my lips, “Did you need me to take care of that?”
“If you want.”
Vince frowned, and I blinked at the frustration that rushed through his mind. “Don,” he said, “what do you want? I want to take care of you. If you want sex, tell me. I might not always say yes, just like you don’t have to when I ask, but you sure as hell can ask. I want you to.”
“I want to have sex,” I said, not sure why the words were hard. Vince was mine. I loved him. He cared about me. He wouldn’t be upset if I asked, but I couldn’t stop the tension forming.
“So do I,” Vince replied, kissing me. He pulled back after the barest moment, eyebrows pulled together. He reached for my hand, bringing it to my cheek. “Sweetheart, why are you so tense?”
I didn’t want to share my feelings with him. I wasn’t in control. Vince frowned but didn’t press when I refused to make the connection between us.
“What’s going on?” His eyes widened. “Did a past partner get mad at you for asking or expressing what you needed?”
Rage, pure and unfettered, flowed through Vince. The potency as well as his desire to murder whoever hurt me made me blink.
“No, my Vince,” I replied, drawing him onto my lap. We both ignored my aching cock as he snuggled against me, holding me securely in his embrace. I ran my fingers through his short hair, tugging on the black strands, and tried to organize my thoughts.
“I’ve never been in a long-term relationship, or in one even like this,” I said carefully. Vince and I had never defined exactly whatthiswas. “No one hurt me as people hurt you, so I feel almost bad even discussing this.”
Vince frowned. “This isn’t the pityolympics. Just because I had something horrible happen to me doesn’t invalidate what happened to you.” He pressed a hard kiss to my collar bone. “I want to know.”
“Olympics” was a foreign word and NAID supplied: competition and events. I couldn’t help but wonder if humans competed for who had the worst trauma. That seemed quite horrific in my mind, but they did have entertainment programs about murder. As a whole, humans were odd.
I continued to stroke Vince, more for my own comfort than his. The feel of his silky skin beneath my scales calmed me. “Many of my past partners were unkind at times.”
“Why?”
“My gift. They expected more.”
He stared at me, confusion clear in his thoughts.
I brushed his bottom lip. “They expected me to be the best lover, which I was not.”
He kissed the pad of my thumb. “You’re the best lover I’ve ever had, by far.”
I preened at the compliment while, at the same time, doubt surged. Vince was being completely honest, but I couldn’t help but think he hadn’t been with many people. Though I hardly wanted to contemplate who he’d fucked in the past. That would only anger me.
