Chapter 34

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

LAYLA

Taking Tristan's hand, he drags me across the tub and settles me between his thighs with my back against his chest. Holding me against him with his arm wrapped around me, he diligently rubs the cloth over my stomach and breasts. It isn't sexual, but having him wash me might be the most intimate thing I've ever experienced.

He drags the cloth over both my arms, looping each of them behind his head when he finishes. After quickly shaving under both my arms, he wipes them clean and lowers them. I watch him drag the cloth down my stomach, swallowing hard as it dips between the dissipated remaining foam from the bath bomb.

Parting my thighs, he tenderly scrubs any remnants of him from my thighs and pussy. He wraps his hand around my leg, squeezing gently and spreading me wider.

"Tris—" I try to stall him .

"Shhhh." He holds me open as he lifts the razor from the lip of the tub and places it between my thighs. "I love how smooth you keep your sweet cunt for me."

I hold my breath watching him gingerly slide the blade over the lips of my pussy. He is meticulous, parting my lips to ensure I am completely smooth for him.

I was wrong.

This is the most intimate thing I've ever experienced.

"Breathe, mo cuishle ," he whispers against my ear. "I won't hurt you."

"Just a little nervous," I admit. My anxiousness getting the best of me, I blurt out, "Do you shave a lot of pussies?"

"No." I can hear the amused smile on his face.

"You mean I'm letting you shave me without knowing what you're doing?" I gasp foolheartedly.

He places the razor back on the edge of the tub when he finishes. His hand is immediately back between my thighs. "It sure fucking feels like I know what I'm doing," his voice is gravelly as he rubs his fingers over my pussy.

Grabbing my hand, he drags it between my legs and presses my fingers against my pussy. He rubs them over my perfectly smooth skin. My fingertip dusts over my clit, and I can't stifle moan.

"Does that mean my work is to your liking?" he teases, releasing his hold on my hand.

"I guess." I shrug and lightly roll my eyes .

"So fucking bratty." He draws out the words while snaking both his arms around me and pulling me flush to his chest. He kisses along my neck. "Come stay with me."

Looking over my shoulder, I meet his gaze.

He's fucking serious.

Uncertain if this is a demand, I ask, "Are you asking me or telling me?"

"I'm recommending," he clarifies. "You have so much potential to be an impeccable submissive. Downright perfect.

"You have so much to learn. So much I want to teach you about yourself and how you deserve to be worshipped. A few fleeting hours or nights a week isn't enough. I need you with me, so I can help you reach your full potential."

"Serious question," I preface. "Is this some ploy to lock me in your sex dungeon?"

Tristan laughs, his chest rattling against me with every hearty billow.

"I said it was serious."

"I live in a penthouse. There is no basement." He tries to hold his laughter. "I don't need to lock you away; I can already have you as I see fit, mo cuishle. "

"Can I think about it?" My question comes out timidly.

"Of course." He kisses my cheek. His phone rings softly from the other room, and he releases his hold on me to climb from the tub. Water cascades down his flawless body as he reaches for a towel. Wrapping it around his waist, he says, "I'm leaving in about twenty minutes."

"Wait! What?" I call after him as he leaves the room.

Did this man really just give me twenty minutes to decide if I'm willing to go live with him?

Pulling the plug on the drain, I stand and grab a towel to follow after him. "We should talk about this. This shouldn't be some rash decision. You can't seriously expect me to make this decision this fast." I storm down the hallway, my shocked statement hanging in the air.

Tristan has his phone wedged between his ear and shoulder as he hastily pulls on the clothes he discarded in the living room last night. Buttoning his shirt, he turns to face me, and our eyes meet. He stares at me with a look of worry as he finishes his call. "I'm leaving now. I'll be there as fast as I can."

Ending the call, he shoves his phone into his pocket and crosses the room to me. His large hands cup my face, and he stares down at me as he speaks. "We did talk about this, and I don't make rash decisions. What I am asking is for your best. I can't stand here and convince you right now."

Stooping his head, his lips press to mine, and he kisses me slow and deep as though he may never get the opportunity again. He pulls back, and his words vibrate against my lips. "I have to go, mo cuishle ."