Feral King (The Dominant Bastard Duology 1)
Page 127
“If you never want to do that again, we don’t have to.”
“Well...” She squirmed a bit, her naked bottom pressing against his groin, which immediately started to respond to her. “It wasn’t so bad by the end.”
“No?”
“I might have gotten off on it. A little.”
“A little?”
Her back shook, and he was relieved when he established she was laughing rather than crying.
“What’s so funny?”
“You fucked my ass on the floor in the dark, then told me the most beautiful things. I think I have emotional whiplash.”
“Kinky.”
She giggled, sobbed, then started to laugh again.
He let her process her feelings in silence as he held her close, trying to let her know with his body all the words and feelings that gathered chaotically in his head. Eventually she drifted off into sleep, sweet and tiny in his arms.
Even though it broke all of his rules, he stayed.
Chapter Nineteen
The dogs were barking.
Minnow forced her eyes open, staring at the wall long enough to realize she was in her room, and bright sun was shining in. A weight lifted off her hip, and with it went a significant amount of warmth. She sat up. The sheet pooled around her waist, leaving her breasts bare to the cool air. At some point during the night the fire had died down to nothing. Her ass cheeks and asshole ached, and she leaned gingerly off to one side.
She was greeted by the sight of Severin’s glorious bare ass as he slid on a pair of jeans. God – he’d slept in bed with her? All night! Warmth trickled through her body like a shot of tequila. Sleeping in the same bed? Such a mundane thing, and yet her cheeks heated and she felt a bit giddy.
“What’s wrong with the dogs?” she asked, blinking in confusion.
“I think someone’s at the door.”
“Maybe it’s a delivery?” She glanced at the clock. At seven in the morning? She slid out of bed and carefully pulled on a long cashmere sweater and some leggings before following him down the hall to the door. Every muscle in her body complained as if she’d run a marathon. She kind of had.
Rodrigo came from the kitchen, dressed like he’d come in from his sister’s party not long ago, his dress shirt half unbuttoned, looking dashingly mussed.
She half laughed. Only in a hermit’s secluded house would the doorbell ringing be the reason for so much curiosity.
“Who’s here at this hour?” Rodrigo asked her.
She shrugged. “Church?”
“Why would he ring the doorbell?” Severin strode to the door and swung it open.
A young man stood surveying the manicured front lawn, turning to grin at Severin. It was a sly grin, full of secret amusement.
“Can I help you?” Severin asked in irritation.
Minnow gasped, her hand rising to cover her mouth to stifle her shock.
Rodrigo blew out a shocked breath. “Holy shit.”
Only Severin didn’t seem to see it.
The man gave him a long, sweeping look. “You really are a big bastard, aren’t you? The rumors pale, of course.” His English was thickly accented with French. He sketched a mocking bow.