Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

When Satin got into the back bedroom, she turned the lights on—although I wondered why, if she couldn’t see—and then she went to the bed to take off her heels, after gesturing for me. “The bathroom’s in there,” she said, gesturing to the back, and I went forward to peek in.

The bathroom was just as nice as the rest of her plane—with marble and chrome—and it was bigger than mine, in my monster-sized apartment.

I looked back into her bedroom, and saw her puttering around—her bedroom was all black velvet, and black silk. Soft things for her to touch, I figured—and I went for the door to separate the two rooms, and found it didn’t have one.

Why would it, when the entire space was hers?

I hesitated.

It…wasn’t like she would be able to see me.

“Use any of my stuff you want!” she called out, taking off her earrings and putting them on a small desk.

I reached back into the shower and turned the water on before I lost my resolve. And then I undid the latch of my leather kilt, stepping out of it quickly, so that the only things on me anymore were the cuff on my thigh and the chain to the piercing on my dick.

I was just about to fully commit and step in, when I looked back, and…while Satin had turned away from me, she was slowly shimmying the rest of her floor length black dress off, leaving her in just her blindfold and a black thong that I wanted to eat out of the way to get to her. I watched her start to turn, exposing the side of one cuppable breast, and the tip of one pink nipple, and reached down to hold my dick down, so my piercing wouldn’t rip out of me.

I spun the shower dial to cold and got inside of it at once.

I stayed in the shower long enough to regain my sanity, and by the time I got out, she was in her black silk pajamas again, sitting cross legged on her bed.

“What’s that clanking sound?” she asked, after I toweled myself off.

“Uh…my hooves,” I lied ineptly.

“Do you need my blow dryer?”

“What for?” I asked—and then shook myself off.

Tiny drops of water that my towel hadn’t gotten went in all directions—including out at her. She squealed. “For that, I think,” she said, crawling quickly backwards on her bed.

“Habit. Sorry.”

“It’s quite all right. I’m sure your equally furry girlfriend is used to it already.”

Her comment gave me pause. If she’d been able to see my apartment, she’d have realized there was no such thing. “I don’t have one,” I said, then realized why she was guessing. “You thought the books were someone else’s. You thought I didn’t read.”

She flushed a little. “For most men, it’s a reasonable assumption.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not most men,” I said, buckling my leather kilt back around me. “For instance, I’ve hung my towel up on your towel rack.”

Her jaw dropped in an expression of delight, and she laughed—it was true laughter.

I wanted to hear it again.

“What do you read then, if I can ask? Assuming they’re not all punching books?” she asked, crawling forward to the edge of the bed, as I carefully walked out to meet her.

“Things that interest me. I’m on a Renaissance kick right now, so I’m reading Wolf Hall—and it was kind of wild, seeing art on the walls at your friend’s house, that was probably from that century.”

“Roskov’s got a piece from Hans Holbein the Younger, so you’re not wrong.”

A moment flowed between us, during which the almost seven feet of me thought I should maintain the MSA’s stellar honor and walk away—while the fourteen inches between my legs urged me closer. “So, uh—I’ll be fine—thanks for the shower?—”

“No—get over here,” she said, patting the space beside her on her bed, before giving me a lopsided smile. “And show me where it hurts.”

I stepped over without consciously thinking, then caught myself. “That’s not a good idea.”

She looked taken aback. “Why?”

I didn’t want to explain to her what being around her did to me. I was ready to give my life for any of my clients—it was part of the job—but with her….

My thoughts drifted, and I saw her swallow.

“Aceon—can I call you Ace?” she asked, and I quickly nodded. “Look, tonight was only the first stage of things—and now that they know that you’re with me, next time they’ll send more men. With bigger guns.”

“Of course,” I agreed, not understanding where she was headed.

Her pink tongue darted out to lick her lips thoughtfully, doing devastating things to my self-control.

“So…maybe I’ll just get to the point then,” she said, with a short laugh, shaking her head, before tilting her head up at me. “We’re going to be in danger tomorrow, Ace. Wouldn’t it be nice to get to feel good, tonight?”

I let go of a rough breath and moved to join her.