Sonata (Butcher and Violinist 2)

He grunted. “Don’t worry, reine. That part of the day will come soon.”

We showered together. Hot water streamed down our bare bodies.

And among the rising steam and our scents mingling, I examined him. “Oh, baby.”

“Don’t worry. I can take a few hits.”

Bruises covered his chest and arms. He never flinched, when I covered his body in bubbles and washed the memories away.

“Now my turn.” He took his turn on me, slowly slipping the cloth along my wet body and kissing me.

After we were both clean, we stood in the shower within each other’s arms, kissing and embracing each other.

I don’t want to leave.

I fell into his seducing taste second by second, forgetting all that had happened.

The Devil is gone. Jean-Pierre is here. The princess was saved, asshole.

Jean-Pierre kissed me again, devouring every inch of me. I sucked on his lips and then slipped my tongue along his.

Someone knocked on the bathroom door.

Jean-Pierre leaned away from me. Desire blazed in his gaze. “The doctor is here. I told my men that was the only time they could knock.”

“Oh.” I opened my mouth in shock. “You’re more hurt than I thought?”

“No. The doctor is for you.”

I blinked. “I don’t need a doctor, Jean-Pierre. I need your mouth. I need your body. Your cock.”

He curved his lips. “I’m trying to be a responsible man.”

I held him closer. “The doctor can wait a little?”

“More than anything I want your body, but. . .I also don’t want to hurt you.”

“You can’t.”

“Trust me.” A fierce wildness filled his gaze. “We should take our time. Check and make sure you’re okay.” He slipped his hands along my hips, tenderly cupping my ass with both hands. “And then I’ll give you this cock, anyway you like it. Let you ride it as long as you need.”

“That’s a long time, Jean-Pierre.”

“You won’t break it, reine, but damn I would love to see you try.” He nipped at my mouth and squeezed my ass some more. “And you’ll give me that pussy, any way I want it.”

“Will I?” I bit my lip.

“You will.” He still had to drag me out of the shower. “Let’s go.”

I didn’t want to leave. Why couldn’t we stay in the shower for the rest of the week? No one could bother us there. No one would attack him or take me. I didn’t pout, but I didn’t care about a doctor or anything else either. I didn’t give a damn, that I could’ve been bruised on the inside or out.

None of it mattered without our happy ending. And those were the moments in his arms, drowning in his gaze.

Still, he guided me out, dried me off, and put a robe on me. For him, he simply covered his waist with a huge towel.

We went to the living room. A doctor and a nurse stood inside. I trembled, not really knowing why, just that I was glad Jean-Pierre came and stood next to me.

The doctor shook my hand. “Hello, I’m Dr. Martin. I’m Jean-Pierre’s special doctor.”

“Special doctor?”

Dr. Martin frowned at Jean-Pierre. “I love him so much, he can call me in the middle of the night, and I’ll come.”

“Thank you again.” Jean-Pierre held my hand. “Let’s do a full physical on her. Any equipment you need, tell my men. They’ll have it here.”

I cleared my throat and spoke up, “We won’t need any equipment.”

Jean-Pierre glanced at me. “But if it’s necessary—”

“We won’t have the time.”

“We won’t?”

“No.” I gestured to the bedroom suite down the hall. “You promised.”

Jean-Pierre looked back at Dr. Martin. “Give us a minute, please.”

He nodded.

We walked a few feet away.

A wide smile spread across his face as he whispered to me, “Stop it, Eden. I’m not focusing.”

“Good.”

His smile faded glancing at my bandage. “The checkup is important.”

“Okay, but you said equipment.”

“If you need an x-ray or anything—”

“Then, I’ll go to the hospital tomorrow.”

“I don’t know, if I want you anywhere with too many people right now. It will have to be private.”

I was about to sigh, but then I agreed. What was wrong with me? Would I be afraid to go out in public now?

No. I’ll just take this day by day. At least Shalimar isn’t screaming anymore.

“Are you ready, reine?”

I gave up. “Yes.”

Jean-Pierre walked us back. “Full checkup. I think her fingers are broken on her right hand.”

No. Not broken.

I stared at my hand.

Jean-Pierre continued, “The fingers are swollen and disfigured. She’s been drugged, so she may not feel the pain as much.”

Dr. Martin asked a few questions as a medical table was pushed in. I got on it and answered the nurse’s questions, about my medical history.

“I want blood tests.” Jean-Pierre flicked his thumb against his index finger. Aggravation covered his face. “I want to know what they gave her.”

“And the bandages?” one of the doctor’s asked.

“They were already stitched.” Terror hit me. I covered the bandage with my swollen hand. “Don’t touch it. . .please. . .Don’t take it off.”