pull away, there is no fear, no tension, just a little sigh. “What if it takes forever? What if I never get used to it again?”
“Then I will learn to love stun-cuffs,” I tell her solemnly, and I am rewarded with a giggle.
She pats my chest, still soapy, though the suds are drying in my fur. “I don’t like that I had to use them on you. I know it was a lot to ask, given that we were both slaves once.”
“But I did not mind, because it was you that asked,” I remind her. “And perhaps we will move away from them in time, but I enjoyed myself with you. Let us not worry too much. I would tell you if it made me unhappy. Slapjack, remember?”
“Slapjack,” she agrees, “Do you want to play a round after this?”
“I want to get this soap out of my mane before I become hopelessly snarled and my tail looks like an unkempt mop. Then, perhaps, we will slap at each other.”
“Such a diva,” she says, but her tone is teasing and she rolls her eyes as she turns on the water.
I like Kim in all ways, but sometimes I like teasing Kim the best, when she is sassy and fearless like she is now.
39
NASSAKTH
I wash my mate carefully, keeping my touches as innocent and brief as I can. Kim is soft and drowsy after her release, and I love that all the tension has eased from her face. She lets me guide her out of the shower and I rub her down with a fluffy towel, then help her into one of my tunics for her to sleep in.
“Slapjack?” she asks with a yawn.
“Not tonight,” I tell her. “You are tired. You should rest. Go to bed early, and we will practice again in the morning.” When her eyes widen, I clarify, “Practice your sword work.”
“Right.” She bites her lip and then stands on her tiptoes and pulls me down for a quick kiss. “I liked all the practice we did today.”
I did, too. My mind buzzes with what I learned from our encounter in the shower. I have ideas for ways to touch her the next time she allows it, and I now know her expression when she is lost in pleasure. I know what to look for. Each time we touch, it will be better than before.
But for now, Kim must sleep.
I guide her toward my bed, and when she gives a sleepy yawn and tugs me down with her, I go gratefully. I like that she curls against me, tucking herself against my side and immediately falling asleep. She trusts me, and as I hold her close, I vow that I want nothing more than to keep this trust.
We will go as slow as we need to.
It turns out that we must go even slower than I anticipated.
I wake up the next morning to Kim’s pained groan, and I immediately tense. “What is it?” I ask. “What is wrong?”
She adjusts the deep collar of my tunic, furtively pushing her sleep-bared breast back under the fabric, and gives me a pained look. “Everything is sore. Why is everything sore?”
I chuckle, realizing that yesterday’s workout was perhaps too effective. “It is from lactic acid buildup in your muscles. Come. Get up. I will rub you and you will be less sore when we practice again.”
Kim groans, wincing as she sits up in bed. “You’re kidding, right? You’re going to make me work out when I’m in this much pain?”
“That is why I am going to rub you. And it is a welcome soreness.”
“You might welcome it,” she grumbles, “But I don’t.”
“It means your body is learning.” I leap out of bed and offer her a hand. “Come. I will even make you breakfast.”
“I hate you,” Kim grumbles. “My sore ass hates you. My thighs hate you too. And my arms. And my back.” She takes my hand, though.
“You do not hate me,” I say, ignoring her grousing. “You will be thankful when you are able to defend yourself. And remember, I said I would not go easy on you.”
She just scowls in my direction, and it is adorable.
Kim’s movements through today’s practice are stiff, and I do feel cruel for putting her through her paces. Despite her initial complaints, though, she works hard and I am proud of how far she has come with such brief lessons. I help her shower and then rub muscle ointment onto her limbs to help