Chapter 35: Hot Baths
I am still mid-laughter when Rage picks me up and takes me to the bathroom. He puts me down gently and then turns the tubs on. I stand there in the middle of the small room looking at him as he is making sure the water is at the right temperature. Then he turns to me and takes the sheet away before picking me up and putting me in the middle of the tub.
I had always been small as if all the growing up stopped when I was thrown into a life of torture. I was always insignificant next to the all the men around that were like giants against whom I stood no chance. Rage is huge against me but instead of fear, him handling me so easily, picking me up as if I am nothing, makes me feel nice and cozy. He lets me down, water running over me.
“Is it warm?” he asks.
“It is, thank you.”
“I need to take the blood off, Iris.”
“Rage?” I ask as he kneels on the tiles letting the water wash off the blood.
“What is your real name?”
He shoots his head up to me. His eyes are burning and I see his face melt with grief and regret.
“Rage,” he barks.
“No, it’s not.”
“You mean how my mother called me?” he gasps.
“Why you want to know? Don’t like Rage no more?” he focuses back into the job at hand.
I try to send the question in my mind away and bring my attention to the fact of what has happened to me the last hour, the fact that Rage and I made love, that I am standing in the middle of the bathtub as he washes me. But as much I try to focus on them I can’t. For me, it was all natural. Him being so close to me, me needing him even closer. When he sheathed himself in me, I felt a pang of pain but it was all forgotten in the haze of pleasure I was lost in. I knew I loved him the moment I saw him and as I was lost in the ecstasy his body gave me all I could think was him. It is natural for me to be with him like that.
“I don’t mind calling you Rage if that’s you want. But to me, you are more. And I would like to know your name.”
His arms drop and he looks down at the tiles on the floor. I know Rage is struggling with his demons all the time. The fact he kept them at bay long enough to make love tells me how far he has come. But he is a long way from home. And I need him to come to me the same way I am walking up to him one step at the time.
“Ryan,” he whispers. “That’s what I remember my mother calling me. My little brother called me Ry.”
“Your brother? You have a brother?”
He digs his nails into my skin but I do not react. He isn’t breathing. I do not move, giving him time. If he doesn’t want to share, I will wait. Maybe one day he will take out that big rock that weighs his soul down and maybe he will let me help him tear it down to sand slowly.
“Had,” he exhales.
I drop my head and a tear falls in the tub. I didn’t realize I was crying. I was crying for him and I was crying for me. And Tamie. I was mourning for Tamie, coming in terms that she is lost to me.
“Like I had Tamie,” I whisper.
“Nate was..." he clenches his jaw, “he was my baby brother.”
“Your father?” I dare though sensing his discomfort.
He stiffens. All the muscles in his body twist and he lets out an agonizing grunt. I hate making him hurt, hate to be the one making me go into the dark place in his mind. I know he cares about me and I can’t take it when I am the cause for all his pain and agony is me. But we both need this. We are both broken. I am broken physically and he mentally. Both are punishing ourselves, me mentally he physically. All in all, we are perfect for each other. He continues to remain silent and he just put the lid in the tub letting it fill up with water.
“Sit!” he orders and I oblige, knowing he won’t answer my question.
He grabs the shower gel and puts some on his palm. His face is hard and steely but his moves are soft. After Tamie was lost to me, I had no one to take care of me like that. Rage was the first to do that for me. I close my eyes and let the feeling run through me. His fingers go all over my body, sliding as bubbles form where the gel meets water. He goes round my shoulders first and then my neck as I tilt my head to give him more access.
There is nothing sensual in the way he touches, nothing dark or sinister. He is gentle and I may have my eyes closed but I know he is focused on me, having the same look he has when he looks at me: the look of handling something precious. And that is exactly the way I feel right that moment. I feel treasured as his hands wash off the sweat and blood from my body.
“Ryan?” I dare.
“Don’t ask me to do that, Iris. I can’t go back.”
“Go back?” I kneel in the tub and make him face me. “You never left.”
He stops and I am afraid that he will walk out the room altogether. Instead, he stands and has me look up at his whole splendor. God, he is so breathtaking. That man is magnificent and he is mine. His lips are in a tight line and his forehead is creased. But his look roams my body as I am naked in the water.
He leans and slides in the tub in one confident move and some of the water splashes out as he sits behind me. When he is comfortable, he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me close. I need him with a frantic need that tightens my heart. The same need that goes all over my body as I lay on him, my head rested on his chest.
When I feel his manhood press against my back, I know he has the same need. I slowly turn my body in the water and face him. He is sitting back, one arm hanging out of the tub, the other still wrapped around me. His head is rested against the tiles and his eyes are narrowed as he looks down at me. He wants me, I know he does. And I want him.
I slide across his body, rubbing him with my skin and he lets outs a deep breath. His erection jolts against me and I had never felt more powerful in my life. I do this to him. I make him so taken, so confused, so wanting.
“Iris!” he sighs and he pulls me up.
I steady myself with both hands on his chest as the water splashes around us. He has one hand around my neck while the other travels north, sliding against my wet skin. I lower myself to him and hover over his lips for a moment.
“Ryan,” I dare, “I want you. I want you so much.”
This is a sparkle on gunpowder. He pushes me down and crushes my lips with his, eating my mouth. He slides his tongue in and finds mine. There is something more in our kiss this time. There is pure passion in the way we kiss. We both know what we want and we are claiming it. His hand pushes my left leg and my core is now against his erection. I bite his lip to let him know I want more and he pushes up against me.
I stop kissing him and I pull up driving my fingers through his hair. My breasts are against his face and he doesn’t miss the chance. He takes one nipple in his mouth and then the other, licking, suckling, biting softly. I let out a deep sigh and sink further into his sensation. I am wet once more and it has nothing to do with the water I am bathing in.
“God, Iris. I want you so much,” he forces me to look at him.
His eyes burn me, hot with desire. He asks for permission like he always does before even touching me. My big, sweet man is still so afraid that he will hurt me. For a second I lose the stupor his touches have me drowned in and I touch his face with my whole palm.
“I do, too. Ever since I first saw you,” I place a kiss on his lips.
When I pull away, he is looking at me puzzled at first. And then his look deepens, turning his blue eyes bluer even.
“You are mine, Iris,” he snarls.
“I am yours,” I nod.
“Mine. All mine,” his hands are kneading my flesh and I throw my head back. “My Iris,” he pushes me on top of his erection.
“Yours!” I pant excitedly.
“Forever,” he enters me with one thrust.
“God, yes, forever!” I let out a cry.
He is claiming me, every inch of me still not moving. What his hands don’t reach, his lips do and I react with the same fervor. And then he moves. Or better he moves me, handling me easily. I add to this trying to hold a rhythm as I kiss him with deep breaths.
The friction I feel takes me higher and higher and I hear the water splash as our moves create waves but don’t care. The whole world could collapse around me and I wouldn’t break contact with him. This time I feel my mouth filled with sweetness more quickly. There is still a burn, pain where we are joined but it is powerless before the flaming intensity the builds inside me. The same tidal wave of ecstasy hits me and I fall on his wet chest as he finds his release. His. Forever his.