Aftercare

Zina POV 

When we reach Jared's place, he takes me straight upstairs. 

We don't stop in his bedroom either, pulling me into his giant bathroom. 

There's a glass shower, and with one hand still laced with mine, he uses the other to turn on the water. Then, without a word, he begins stripping me of my clothes. 

His ministrations are slow and deliberate, as if I'm sick or hurt and he's trying to pamper me.

 When he pulls my dress off, he kisses the black-stained skin where the candle wax fell.

 When he releases my bra, he kisses the red marks from the clamps. And he gently presses his lips against the spot where he bit me earlier. 

They're not heated kisses. He's not trying to get me warmed up for more sex. It feels more like he's trying to heal the hurt, and I want to tell him there's nothing to mend. 

Nothing physical at least. But if he can quiet these voices of doubt and fear in my head, that would be great. 

Once I'm naked, he opens the shower door and whispers, "Get in." 

Then he takes off his clothes and follows me. 

We stand together under the hot spray, letting it wash over us both. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I rest my face against his chest.

 Jared is tall enough that I can nuzzle myself against his neck, and I love how well our bodies fit together.

 He's just soft enough to be cozy and strong enough to be chiseled. I seriously don't think a man's arms have ever been so inviting. 

When I pull away and reach for the soap, he stops me. 

"Let me." I watch as he fills his palm with shampoo, lathering it into my hair, slowly and sensually. 

He washes my hair like I'm the most delicate thing in the world. Like I mean everything to him, and I close my eyes to ward off the sting from that thought. 

When he rinses my hair, I gaze up at him. And maybe he sees the redness in my eyes, but he pauses, looking down at me.

 And he doesn't say a word.

 I swear he can feel what I'm feeling and knows what I'm truly afraid of, but he doesn't tell me everything will be all right or that he will keep me forever. 

He just leans down and kisses me against my lips. Then, he runs his fingers through my hair, applying conditioner before lathering up a washcloth and gently scrubbing every inch of my body.

"None of this was what I expected," I mumble as he gets on his knees and runs the washcloth with precise attention up and down my legs. 

"What did you expect?"

 "Well, I thought I was the one who was supposed to please you," I say, running my fingers through his hair.

 "You do please me." He says it with such cool confidence, as if it's obvious. I'm not quite sure how I please him.

 He's already had to punish me twice, and I don't feel like I do enough for him anymore. 

"Then why are you the one on your knees?"

 He gazes slowly up at me, his hands still on my ankle.

 "You think because I'm the Dominant that I can't take care of you?" 

"Sort of," I reply with a shrug.

 "But you're mine to take care of, Zina." 

He lifts my foot to his knees as he lathers soap bubbles under my arch and between my toes.

 "This relationship is a give and take, not a one-way street. Not to mention, when we are not in that Dom/sub mode, I don't want you to submit to me. I want you to let me worship you and take care of you."

When he stands up, I let him rinse the suds from my body, but when he begins to clean himself, I grab his wrist. "You said it was a two-way street."

 And I see him start to argue, but he stops himself.

 He has to bend a little to let me soap up his hair, and it makes us both laugh. I let my fingers glide slowly through the sparse strands of gray.

After rinsing his hair, I lather his body, taking my time to learn the curves and textures of his physique. 

This feeling of intimacy washes over me as I explore every inch of him, not finding a single spot I don't love. 

The broad slope of his shoulders. The patch of hair across his chest and the small line leading down his abs. 

That delicious Vshape of his hips and the thick muscles of his thighs. This is dangerous. Getting so accustomed to his body—too attached, really. People who just have sex don't do this. 

They don't look at another person's hands and arms and back and think this is mine.

 "You're mine to take care of too, Jared," I whisper as I drag the washcloth down his legs. I'm being reckless, but my filter can only be held back so much.

 I just want him to know that two can play at his game. 

If he thinks it's fun to toy with my emotions, then I can toy with his too. 

And as I drop to my knees, like he did in front of me a moment ago, he strokes his hand over my head.

 I gaze up at him, and I see a hint of tension there. "When was the last time you let someone take care of you?" I ask. 

I'm not blind. I can see the way his cock is hardening right in front of my face, but I'm not paying attention to that yet.

 I'm still looking up at him. I need to know if Jared acts this way around every girl he's with, or if I'm somehow different and if any truth rings in those sweet words he tells me.

"A very long time," he mutters, stroking my head.

 "I want to take care of you," I whisper, and I hope he knows I mean it as more than just making him come in this shower. 

He blocks the shower spray from me, letting it hit his back and cascade down his body. I set the washcloth down and run my hands up his thighs, each time stopping before I reach the top. 

His breathing picks up as he gazes at me.

 "I should be the one taking care of you," he says, without pulling me to my feet.

 "Well, maybe I want to spoil you," I say in a light, almost joking manner. "Maybe I want to make you so dependent on me that you never want to leave me. I want to be so good for you that you keep me forever." 

"Then, show me how good you can be."

 With a gentle nudge, he guides his cock to my lips, and I gaze up at him as I run my tongue around the head.

 The feeling of butterflies assaults my insides at his words and the way he teases me with that tone.

 He hums, low and gravelly, as I wrap my lips around him. 

I play with the head of his cock first, licking into the slit and letting my teeth graze the underside. 

His hips jolt forward, and I tease him a bit more before letting him slide in deeper.

Relaxing my throat, I pull him in farther and farther each time. 

Wrapping my hand around the base, I stroke in rhythm with my mouth, moving faster and tighter, waiting for his groans or words of praise. 

I'm dying to hear his pleasure. Finally, he lets out a tight, "Oh fuck, Zina." For that, he gets a reward, and I suck even harder, giving his cock head a little more attention. 

He shudders and squeezes a handful of my hair in his grasp. "Keep doing that."

 So, I do, moving from the base to the head, twisting and squeezing and practically swimming in the grunts and groans of pleasure my actions are eliciting. 

I reach my other hand between his legs and gently knead his sac, watching his expression change as I do. His free hand slams against the wall to hold him upright and his eyes close.

 "That's my girl," he groans, and I light up inside.

 My movements pick up speed, and I know what's coming when his mouth falls open and his head falls back. 

"I'm gonna come, baby." 

And maybe that was meant to be a warning, but when I don't move or take my mouth away, he seems to pick up the hint.

 "Are you gonna swallow me down, Zina? You gonna take my cum like the dirty girl you are? My dirty girl." His voice is strained and he barely gets the last word out before I feel the salty jets hit my tongue. 

I expect to be grossed out by it, but the minute I taste him, I realize this is him. 

This is my Jared, and I want it all. I love everything about him. So as he fills the back of throat, I eagerly swallow before pulling my mouth off. 

Strings of cum hang from his cock to my lips when he moves his body, letting the water wash it all away. 

Then, I'm lifted abruptly from my knees and pressed against the wall. 

His hand is under my jaw, pressing my face upward to see his. "That was so fucking hot," he says, kissing me. 

I try to push him away out of fear that he could still taste himself on my tongue, but he doesn't let me.

 His mouth assaults mine with fervor. 

When he pulls away from our kiss, his words come out with conviction. 

"Just when I think you can't get any more fucking fantastic, you do. You keep surprising me, Zina. And not just with sex. You are so perfect for me, and I do want to keep you forever."