Free The Circle Eight: Tobias by Emma Lang Page B

choked and coughed as she worked to clean him. His legs also showed signs of bruising and wounds.  
    “Did they kick you too?”  
    “Hell if I know. I was out cold and drunk.” He put his right hand over his face, while his left balled into a fist.  
    She cleaned his legs of dirt, what appeared to be horse shit, straw and small rocks. He had no open wounds, but deep marks in the shape of boots. Anger raced through her at the cruelty shown to a man who could not defend himself. Drunk or not, he didn’t deserve the violence visited upon him.  
    His feet were dirtier than his legs and she wondered when the last time he’d bathed. He kept his hand securely fastened on his face, while his staff maintained a raging erection. Rebecca flattered herself he reacted to her nearness, but he had admitted he had no control over his cock. Any woman would make it sit up and beg.  
    She made her way up his other leg, finding the same injuries and muck. By the time she reached his private parts, she shook with nervous energy.  
    “I need to make a poultice for your bruises and the swelling.”  
    He snorted. “You missed a spot.”  
    Her cheeks heated. “I thought you might want to do that yourself.”  
    “Not hardly. I ain’t been bathed in my life until now. Not that I remember anyway. Don’t leave me waiting.”  
    His plea was heartfelt and it made her body tighten with need and longing. She wanted to touch him, to pleasure him. To quench the answering pulse within her core.  
    “I can’t.” The words were torn from her throat, raw and shaking.  
    “I ain’t gonna beg.”  
    Tobias was helpless and she was supposed to be taking care of him. That meant all of him. She swallowed the lump in her throat and did what needed to be done. Finally he was clean and the water was gray with floating pieces of debris.  
    “Thank you for that.” He took her hand. “I know I was right dirty.”  
    She shrugged, uncomfortable to discuss it any further. “I’m glad to help.”  
    His cock had not lost any of its hardness. It seemed larger than when she started. Her gaze found it again and it twitched. She licked her lips, needing to touch him again. Aching to release her tension and sexual energy.  
    His hand crept up her thigh and she didn’t push him away. She didn’t move, her breath caught like a moth in a jar, fluttering and frantic. His fingers grazed her inner thigh and her pussy clenched in anticipation. “Tell me to stop.”  
    It would be a lie.  
    Time ticked by in seconds lasting minutes and then finally, his hand cupped her heated core. She let out a shaky sigh and her hand reached beneath the blanket. He sucked in a breath when she circled his staff and squeezed.  
    “God, yes.” He dipped his fingers into her moistness and found her sweet spot, stroking her. Each pass heightened her already sensitive nerve endings until she spread her legs, seeking more.  
    Her hand moved of its own volition, as she stroked him from tip to stem. He pushed into her hand, his skin hot and tight against hers. She spread the moisture from the tip around the head and wished she had the courage to taste him. Not now. This was private, clandestine. No one would know what they were doing beneath the folds of the fabric that covered their most secret places.  
    She found herself moving with his hand and hers, their rhythms matched. He hissed out a breath as she increased her pace. There was no sound in the room except their breaths, the thumping of their hearts and the rustle of fabric on hands.  
    Within minutes, her body signaled her release was close. Tingles raced around inside her, coalescing between her legs. She closed her eyes and allowed the orgasm to overtake her. Waves of pleasure crashed over her, pulling a small moan from deep within her.  
    He added his own groan and found his own release in the folds of the blanket, coating her hand with his warm speed. She stroked him until he quieted.  
    Rebecca