Page 19 of The Butcher
My stomach tightened with sudden hunger as he set the tray on the bedside table.
“You should eat,” he said. “You’ll need your strength,” he added in a low, deep voice, as if picturing exactly why I’d need sustenance.
He reached for me before I could move, sliding one arm behind my back and the other beneath my legs, lifting me from the mattress as though I weighed nothing at all. The sudden motion startled me, and I grabbed his shoulders instinctively, my pulse jumping as he carried me to the table, sat down, and placed me on his lap, both of us stark naked.
“What are you…” I didn't know what to say.
“Shh, let me spoil you,” he said, his voice steady as he stared at my face. “Tolko moya.”Only mine. “Ty prinadlezhish mne.”You belong to me.
I knew some Russian, a necessary tool in our world, but I wasn’t familiar with the terms Alexei just said. But the way his voice deepened and his gaze became heavy-lidded told me whatever they were, they sounded deeply possessive.
The room was neither hot nor cold, but I felt my skin flush being pressed against Alexei’s hard, warm body. And when he picked up the fork and held it in front of my mouth, my pulse jumped.
“Open for me,” he murmured. The commandwas quiet, yet there was no mistaking the expectation behind it.
I obeyed, unable to look away from him and the magnetic pull he held.
Alexei fed me slowly, one bite at a time, watching my mouth with careful attention as though he were mesmerized by the way my lips formed around the fork.
The intimacy of the moment felt overwhelming in a way that surprised me. This was the same man who had taken me with ruthless force only hours earlier, yet now, he handled me with steady patience, making sure I ate and drank as though my comfort was as important to him as his own satisfaction.
After the final bite, he set the fork aside, pushed the tray away, and studied me again, his gaze moving slowly over my face before dropping to my naked body.
His hand slid possessively between my thighs again, two fingers stroking my sore entrance as if checking that his claim still remained. “No one else will ever touch you here. I’d burn the world down first.”
Before I could ask what happened next, he carried me toward the bathroom attached to thesuite. He set me on my feet, and I curled my toes against the cool stone sending a chill up my legs.
I was silent as I watched Alexei go through the motions of starting the shower, gathering the towels, and selecting the toiletries he’d use. Steam quickly rose, filling the space, but my sweating had nothing to do with the humid room.
It was Alexei’s raging hard-on for me that had me hot and wet.
“Idi ko mne.”Come to me.
He crooked his finger, and I didn't need to understand him to know what he wanted.
Me.
When I was close, Alexei pulled me against his hard body, curled his hand around my nape, and led me into the shower. He held me in his arms, keeping me steady beneath the spray. Relief spread through my body almost immediately, loosening the tightness in my hips and thighs, easing the lingering ache between my legs.
He kept one arm firmly around my waist while the other reached for the soap. His hands moved slowly over my skin in slow, careful strokes as he washed me almost reverently. I closed my eyes as he slid his fingers along my shoulders and down my back before moving lower, washing me with thequiet focus of a man tending to something that belonged to him.
And when his hands reached the inside of my thighs, my breath stuttered before I held it in.
His slick fingers parted my folds gently under the water, cleaning the stickiness of last night from my swollen pussy with slow, possessive strokes. Two thick fingers slipped just inside me, not fucking, just feeling the tender heat of where he’d ruined me.
His touch was gentle, far more careful than the night before, and the warmth of his palm soothed the soreness of my pussy rather than aggravating it. He pressed me against the shower tiles and watched my face closely as he cleaned me, his expression serious, as though measuring my reaction to every movement.
“God, you are so fucking perfect,” he hummed in approval, and I couldn’t help but gasp at the praise.
He dropped to his knees, and before I could suck in a breath, his mouth replaced his fingers, tongue dragging slowly over my sore clit before licking deeper, tasting the mix of us that was no doubt still left inside of me.
“Still so fucking sweet,” he growled against my pussy. “Even after I made you mine last night.”
With one more lick to my pussy, he rose and reached for the shampoo next, working it into myhair with slow, steady movements that eased the tension from my scalp.
This simple act felt deeply personal, far more intimate than I expected, and a quiet sigh slipped from my lips as his fingers massaged carefully through the strands. He stilled briefly at the sound.
His gaze settled on me, dark and steady, but something in it shifted, something deeper than hunger, something that felt a lot more dangerous.
