Chapter 8

Castor

He felt like the biggest bastard on the face of the earth. He was a cruel man, he enjoyed harsh pleasures and sex had always been a battlefield of wills for him. But any pain that he doled out was always wanted, the sex might have been a battle, but it was a battle with both parties knowing the score and both parties willing.

Seeing Briar May looking so broken and fragile cut him to the core. He’d been all ready to take a cold shower, wait out the night and then make sure she got back to her pack without further ado, until she’d spoken the words that had almost floored him.

Can you still make it better?

Did that mean she still wanted him? He snorted in surprise. Not a laugh. It was pure shock. “If you let me, I’ll try with everything I have.”

He knew she still wanted him. Despite the pain and humiliation he could feel radiating from her, he detected her arousal, a faint spicy bloom that needed to be coaxed back into full blossom.

She should have told him. Confided in him. If she trusted him enough to let him into her body, she should have trusted him with the knowledge that he was the first, but he supposed that he couldn’t blame her for that.

“I’m sorry too,” she said quietly, nudging his hand with her index finger. She had nothing to be sorry about, he should have sensed her discomfort, but he was too lost in his own pleasure. He’d stopped the second she told him to. He just wished it had been sooner. “It just went all wrong.”

“Let me make it right. Let me make it good for you. If that’s what you still wish.”

“How are you going to do—oh!”

Her voice cut off in surprise when she saw where his gaze had fallen. He licked his lips slowly and studied the spot between her legs with a very pointed intensity. It shouldn’t have even been possible that she could blush now, after all they’d just done, after the way he’d tried to make her feel mortified and used, the way she’d refused to feel even an ounce of it, and then the pain and the confession, but her creamy white skin was flushed, and he felt his cock stiffen again in response. But this time was all about her, and he pushed his own arousal to the back of his mind as he moved closer.

She let him gently spread her legs open again, and he caressed the inside of her thigh. Her skin was so soft, it was like running his hands over silk and he felt almost afraid that his callouses would mark her tender flesh. Bending his head he lowered his face to that creamy white skin. He felt her gasp in shock as he licked the first streak of blood off her thigh. He paused, taking stock of her reaction. He could smell her arousal deepening once more, her pussy glistening in the dim light of the room. His head bowed in atonement, he didn’t look up at her until his mouth met her pussy, scalding hot, sweet and wet and so fucking blissful that he could have died and gone to heaven. Her head was thrown back and her eyes fluttering. The soft moan that escaped her lips told him that the memories of the pain were receding fast.

He concentrated his efforts on her folds, her entrance, her clit, taking his time exploring and learning her body. He could tell when her breathing hitched that he’d done something she especially liked. Part of him, the part that usually wanted to dominate, wanted her to tell him exactly what to do, to order him as he serviced her needs. As he lay on the rough bedding, his cock was sensitive as it rubbed, but this was all about her. He wanted to erase the last half hour and replace it with something she could treasure. It was his gift to her after plundering her body.

At first, she lay still, her soft moans and gasps being the only signs of movement, but then her legs started to tremble as she grew closer to her release. She writhed on the bed underneath his tongue and his lips, her hands grasped his shoulders pulling him in closer. Closer still. She was drenched in delicious juices, and the spicy scent of her arousal was making him almost dizzy. His cock thick and swollen begging for its own release. But he would deal with that greedy bastard in the bathroom later on.

Her moans increased and her head fell back against the bed, and she closed her eyes.

Castor’s tongue worked her slit, slowing down. Enjoying her fully, savoring her as if she was the finest meal he’d ever eaten. His own needs lost as all that mattered to him was this woman and the pleasure that he could show her. His tongue moved towards her other entrance, and he felt her gasp and stiffen, she was still boneless under his lips, but he didn’t want to do anything that she might not want yet, so he nuzzled her pussy and then circled her clit. Her breathing was ragged, and he knew she was close. He could have made her come by now, but he was doing more than just giving her an orgasm. He wanted to teach her pleasure, healing her, begging for atonement.

“Castor,” she rasped on a low whine. “Please.”

What was she even begging for? To let her come because she couldn’t take another second of his tongue fucking her into a frenzy? To go on forever and ever with the soft, scalding heat of his mouth?

His hands came down on her thighs and he spread them wide, his breath hitching as he saw her swollen, wet pussy laid out for him as a gift. Her hips bucked, but he didn’t dig his fingers in. He kept his touch gentle and featherlight. Her hips surged up into his face. He pinned her to the bed with his tongue, licking her until she was in a frenzy. She cried his name again but all that came out was a broken sob.

She needed release, he could sense that now, so he thrust his tongue into her entrance, licking her pussy walls, flicking and circling and then sucked her clit gently, then more insistently, his beard was soaked in her arousal and her moans increased in volume, then she exploded around him, grabbing his shoulders to try to hold on while her body broke open. He licked her over and over, until the waves crested and passed.

She lay there on the bed, a picture of pure bliss with a soft smile playing on her lips. He didn’t want to leave her, his whole being wanted to curl up around this woman and protect her with his body until his last breath, but instead he headed to the bathroom.

The tub was big, and he turned on the taps adjusting the temperature, so it was perfect. Accustomed to cold showers as he was, he made it a bit warmer than he would have liked. In his world comfort was irrelevant—hunger, pain, and tiredness accompanied him daily and he’d never consider something as luxurious as a bubble bath. But for Briar May he wanted her to have everything.

Once the bath was full enough, he headed back to the bedroom. She was still lying where he left her, boneless and satisfied. She looked up at him, it seemed as if there were words on the tip of her tongue, but for whatever reason they never left her lips. Instead, her eyes traveled down his body, he was still erect, but like daily discomfort, he could ignore his cock while he took care of his female.

His female.

Shaking the thought away, he scooped her up like she was a toy doll and carried her to the bathroom and gently placed her in the tub.

The water was perfect. Hot, but not enough to sting. She sunk down into the steamy tub until it lapped at her chin. She didn’t even have to bend her knees. She looked exhausted and could barely keep her eyes open, but she didn’t have to, he would keep her safe.

Castor grabbed a washcloth that was stark white and surprisingly soft and lathered it with the hotel bodywash. Once he’d gently soaped her arms, her breasts, her belly, he washed the suds off, and his hands guided her backwards so he could wet her hair.

He lathered her long cornsilk tresses with shampoo. Ducked her back again so he could rinse it out. Did the same with conditioner—because despite living feral for most of the time, he did know that women liked to use the stuff—and then rinsed it by tilting her head back and using one of the glass tumblers from the side of the sink.

He was careful with her the entire time he’d cleaned her, treating her as if she might break at any moment.

When he was done, he wrapped her in a fluffy, white bath towel that was more like a sheet and carried her to the bed. Neither of them had said anything the entire time. He wanted to, but words seemed flimsy and cheap. The silence was precious. It was another thing they shared, and he didn’t want to break the spell.

He brought another towel and wrapped it around her hair, running it from her scalp to the ends with care not to pull. The motion must have soothed her because it looked like she was struggling to keep her eyes open.

She turned her head and studied his face. He wondered what she saw, he rarely bothered looking in mirrors. He’d been told in the past that he was handsome, beautiful even, some women had said. Other people’s opinions had never mattered, but for some reason hers did.

“Castor.” She whispered his name, and either it was all there in that one word that sounded half a whisper and half a sob, or he read it in her unguarded expression.

He dropped the towel to the floor. He peeled her out of the other one and pulled the sheets and duvet up until they were tucked under her chin. She looked exhausted, but there was something else in her expression. A loneliness, and he realized that she’d expected him to join her. He’d planned on sleeping on the large sofa in the corner of the room, not wanting to impose himself further.

He circled the bed, but then thought twice and went to the window. After parting the drapes and seeing that it was still hours from dawn, he closed them again and turned back to the bed. For some reason he felt like he was charging into battle, rather than doing something so mundane, but he answered her unspoken invitation.

He climbed in and felt the coolness of the sheets. He even made the slightest sound, nothing more than a soft sigh, but it was enough to betray how exhausted he was too. Maybe it was something else, he knew he had to unpack what was going on in his mind, but for now he just wanted peace.

“Come here.” He said the words as an invitation, not an order.

There was a slight movement as Briar May shuffled across the wide bed towards him, bare skin sliding over the world’s softest sheets. Suddenly his senses reared, all exhaustion forgotten. He could scent her arousal, she was ready for him again. His cock reminded him that they still had unfinished business, but he shoved the bastard down as he pulled Briar May close.

He draped an arm over her, pulling her into his chest, her back was to him and he knew she could probably feel his hard length pressing against her, but he wasn’t going to take her tonight. Even if she begged for it, and the way she was wiggling her hips against him showed that she was ready. He wasn’t denying her to be callous, every inch of his body yearned to be buried between her sweet thighs, but tonight she had needed what happened earlier, he’d hopefully erased the bad memories.

He pulled her tight against his chest, but that was all. He tried to shift his hips, so his cock wasn’t being so insistent between them.

He was going to hold her all night and protect her body. It felt strange, he had never spent a night with a woman and certainly not shared a bed to sleep. He felt like in this situation he was actually the virgin, and he wasn’t quite sure how to do it or that it was okay, but with all his strength and might at her back, protecting her—at least until she fell asleep—he didn’t want anything more.

He felt her body shaking and realized that she was crying. He didn’t sense any fear or sadness emanating from her, he wasn’t sure what had triggered her tears, but he just kept holding her close. Warming her with his body heat, protecting her body with his, and allowing her to gently cry herself to sleep. One of her hands reached up and clasped his hand that was lazily draped across her. He felt a jolt as their fingers entwined, then he felt her body start to relax. The last thought that crossed his mind before darkness overtook him was that he was home. That now he had found it he never wanted to leave it ever again. But the night wouldn’t last forever, nothing did for him.