The thought of her tiny, crumpled form defenseless on the dusty floor made all of his new, protective urges surge to the forefront of his mind. Easier to stay. More pleasant to turn them both to their sides and continue to feel her soft nakedness pressed against his chest and thighs – to feel the silk of her hair pressed under his chin and tickling his chest. She lay in his arms, trembling. His erection had started to ebb, but the aftershocks of her orgasm tightened his balls yet again. This woman – he could never get enough of her.
He brushed his lips over the tip of her ear, and a breathy mewl escaped her.
The high of dominant euphoria made him feel as if he could bench press the damn house. The need to master her warred with his tenderness. She’d completely submitted – there was no need to prove anything more, but the urge to take things one step further was hard to resist. What else could he do to her to prove she was his? Cut her? Taste her blood again? Piercing her and branding her wasn’t enough? What about the collar she couldn’t remove?
Why did he always feel like she’d eventually discard him no matter how he claimed her?
He loved her and hated that he did.
There were no guarantees.
He needed to chain her again. The feeling of her impending escape was driving him mad.
“You’re mine, Minnow. Every inch of you is fucking mine. Understand me?”
Full of desperate energy, he pulled out, then rose and hauled her limp form into his arms. She was so still that panic made him check her breathing. Deep. Steady. Her warm breaths curled over his bare shoulder.
Too many feelings.
Protect her. Comfort her. Hurt her. Get rid of her.
He tried to shut them off as he strode down the hall, her unresponsive body cradled delicately against his chest. Her eyes were wide and unseeing, and he wasn’t sure she’d blinked since they got into the comparatively bright hallway.
The pups frolicked around his legs, shortening his strides as he made his way to her room.
“Shh, boys. She’s okay.” He hoped.
He brought her into her bedroom and went straight through to the bathroom to run her a bath. He sat on the toilet lid with her in his lap, and started the water and peeled the bondage tape off. Her wrists and ankles were the wrong color, and he massaged them. Come and lube dripped out of her, slicking his leg.
The pups had stopped at the bathroom doorway, having been trained to stay out. They whined and grumbled, and he shushed them.
“Miss Korsgaard.”
She didn’t respond, just kept staring off into nothing.
“Minnow?”
Again, nothing. Had he hurt her? Fuck. He’d been too rough.
He turned her ass up in his lap and inspected her. Even though he kept his touch on her anus gentle she whimpered, edging away from his fingers. Thankfully there were no signs of damage even though he’d taken her too hard for her first time.
“You’re okay, he told her after he’d reassured himself, then flipped her back over and held her close. Her skin felt too cool against his own. Sweat was drying on them both. When the tub was full, he placed her carefully in the steaming water, wincing when she yelped and hissed, clutching at the stripes on her ass. He stripped and got in behind her and she shifted to her side and leaned against his chest.
He stroked her hair, draping it up over his shoulder and onto the ledge behind him to keep it dry. She was looking at him now, seeming more lucid, but she still wasn’t speaking. Such intelligence and patience in those eyes. He’d never done anything in his life to deserve this kind of unwavering devotion. He wanted to deserve her, but wasn’t sure how to go about doing that.
One of the pups whined for them, and the sound was the perfect match to how he was feeling. Desperate. Vulnerable.
“I love you,” he said, staring down into her lovely face.
Her gaze flickered with some emotion – shock? – then her eyes filled with tears. The words had come without his permission, but even so, they were completely true. He’d never said the words to anyone – not Sutton, not Church, not even Rodrigo when they’d been drinking, even though Ro had said it to him often enough. Even if he’d loved anyone as a child, he would have said the words in French.
The strange part was he didn’t even need to hear her say it back again. The words were a fact, not a ploy to get a response. Not part of a game.
She was so small and sweet. She just...let him. She let him do everything he wanted, and somehow that was changing him. He was the dominant. Her relationship with him should have been changing her, not the other way around. She been hired to fix him, and slowly she was accomplishing that, just not in any way Sutton could have anticipated.
It hurt that Sutton would never get to know her well. They’d liked each other, but in time he was sure his last mother would have loved her too.
“You do?” she