His Masterpiece by Ava Lore

Author:Ava Lore [Lore, Ava]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: alpha male, analingus, submission, the billionaire's muse, domination, strong heroine bdsm, rimming, body painting
Publisher: Brittle Divinity Press
Published: 2013-02-14T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

When I opened my eyes again, I was in a hospital. White and cream and blue and sterile. Felicia sat by my bed, staring at her phone, a line of worry between her brows as she restlessly scanned the screen. I wanted to ask her what was wrong, but a bone deep exhaustion filled me and my mouth was dry as desert sand.

I wheezed, but it wasn't even loud enough to catch her attention. I let my eyes close.

I woke again, this time as nurse bent over me, her perfume overwhelming my nose. My stomach heaved and I choked on vomit. She took one look at me and slammed a button on the wall.

Doctors and nurses and interns flooded the room. Tubes fed down my throat, sucking the vomit out. This time I felt pain, but it was far away, happening to someone else.

It must suck to be that chick, I thought, and fell asleep again before they even finished clearing my airway.

When I finally woke up for real, Malcolm was there.

If I could have commanded my lungs to sigh in relief, I would have, but the pain that had been at bay suddenly reared up and struck, and I could hardly breathe.

Malcolm noticed my eyes opening almost immediately, and in a flash he was at my side, his large, sweet hands running over my forehead, stroking down my cheeks, his thumbs running against my temples as he leaned over the hospital bed and kissed my brow, soft and gentle, over and over again.

Warmth spread through me, chasing away the pain. Malcolm, I thought. Malcolm, you're free. I must have done it somehow. They must have found the files. He must have proved his innocence.

I did it, I wanted to say. I freed you. But I couldn't talk. My mouth had the sticky, bone dry feel of too much morphine, and I tried to lick my lips to wet them. It didn't matter. It was like my tongue was plastic.

“Wait, don't strain yourself,” Malcolm said. His voice rumbled through me, the sound painful in my head, but burrowing deep into my aching heart, and I subsided, willing, at last, to let him do what he wanted, completely and totally. I closed my eyes, and I drifted into a snap of sleep before I felt the sting of cold on my lips and I opened them again.

Malcolm stared down at me, his face so tender I thought I would shatter. I need to be handled roughly to survive. Be kind to me, and I break.

His warm hand landed on my throat, his thumb coaxing my chin down, and when I opened my mouth he slipped a chip of ice into it. It hit like a balm from heaven.

Patiently, Malcolm fed me ice until I fell asleep again.

That was how it went for a while. I would wake, and Malcolm would be there. With each waking I felt a little stronger. Doctors and nurses came and went. Felicia and Anton fluttered in and out.

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