his eyes never leaving me as I continue to drink him in.
With skin a few shades darker than mine, he has a strong body that gloats of his years that he must’ve spent training for Wrath’s army. He’s all defined muscles and honed strength, and I find my favorite letter of the alphabet right below his belly button, showing the way from perfect abs right down to his perfect, pierced cock.
“Thank the Morningstar,” I murmur, and Ire tips his head back and laughs, the noise bouncing off the black tile walls.
I immediately blush at my blurted words, but he gets in the water and dunks himself under. He comes up still smiling, but I’m still watching the water, suddenly wondering how long it’ll take for all these bubbles to pop so I can see below.
“Keep looking at me like that, Sable, and you won’t be able to get clean first,” he warns.
My eyes jolt up, and I firmly tell myself to keep them on his face. I mean, I know we’re mates, but it’s probably not polite to stare at his cock before I’ve even learned his favorite color. Although, given the color scheme of his room, I’m going to go with black and gray.
I shift in the tub, my thighs pressing closer together, but I know the steaming water isn’t the reason for my hot core. It’s him.
“Here,” he says, handing me some soap set on the lip of the tub beside him.
I take it gratefully and then look up, shyly. “Umm, you don’t happen to have a razor do you?”
Ire chuckles but comes to the rescue as he passes over a razor, and I’m damn relieved to see that it looks like a normal human razor instead of a medieval kind of thing that could slice a jugular.
“Thanks,” I say, taking it, and then he and I both get to work scrubbing the blood and ash and death from our skin and hair, while I also quickly shave myself smooth, and then I finally relax while Ire drains and refills the tub with clean water, more bubbles filling in.
As soon as I lean back with a happy hum, Ire reaches under the water and takes my feet. He starts wordlessly rubbing them, massaging his way up my calves, and I have to hold back all sorts of embarrassing noises I want to make as his strong, sure hands work out every tender muscle, turning me into putty.
“Come here,” he says, and my eyes flutter open at his smooth, low voice.
Sitting up, I let him pull me toward him, my body cutting through the water and making some of it splash over the edge. His hands move up to grip my hips, and then he brings me over his thighs, my legs straddling his lap. “Is this okay?” he asks, his eyes flicking between mine to gauge my reaction.
“More than okay,” I assure him, nearly breathless with nervous desire.
I lift a finger and gently trace over his face, going over the handsome edges of him before I let the pad of my finger smooth over his scars. “How did you get these? I thought demons healed too fast for scars.”
“We do, usually,” he says.
His lips come down to mine, and he kisses me languidly, his hands moving up and down my sides. “I want to feel you,” he says before pulling my bottom lip and nibbling it between his teeth.
“I want to pleasure you,” he says in my mind, instantly making this moment between us even more intimate as he touches my body and connects our thoughts. “I want to feel you tense up and then relax completely in my hands. I want to make you come undone. I want to seal our bond.”
My pulse thunders, and he doesn’t hesitate to place his lips there at my neck, sucking on the place that betrays my rapidly beating heart.
“May I?” he asks out loud, his nose skimming over the curve just behind my ear. But I know he’s not pressuring me. There’s no arrogance or demand in his tone. If I told him no, he’d let me go right now and move at a slower pace.
But if I’ve learned anything in Hell, it’s that time is of the essence, and I don’t plan on wasting a single second of it.
“Yes, please,” I reply, and I feel his smile against my skin for a split second before one of his hands dips down to clasp my thigh.