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17. The dreaded talk

Damon Valentino

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Ignoring Dahlia’s startled face, I settled in the water, staring at her. “What? You don’t want me to join you?”

Dahlia blushed despite everything we had just done. I was honestly surprised by her. I didn’t expect her to have such a naughty mouth. How could I let her go when she was everything I wanted? I liked her personality, both in the bedroom and outside it; they were contrasting. “No, it’s not that. It’s just that…” she trailed off, looking shy.

I wanted to laugh. The Dahlia that told me to fuck her mouth was definitely not shy. “It’s just what?”

“I’m quite sore.”

“I’m not going to fuck you,” I assured her. I only entered the tub with her because I wanted to help her bathe. “Not yet at least,” I added.

“Damon!”

“Not professor anymore?” I teased. During sex, she had been so insistent on calling me professor. She knew what it did to me and she knew how to wield the power it held to get what she wanted. She was such a sly woman.

Dahlia covered her face with her
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