me. How it had felt when he came inside of me. I push aside the fact that he wasn’t wearing a condom and all those life altering repercussions. Instead, I focus on his body collapsing against mine with spent pleasure, and the knowledge that I had done that to him. There’s an odd power in knowing I did

that to him. That he enjoyed sex as much as I did. He’s not a man to say things he doesn’t mean, so when he says he thought it was amazing I have to believe

him.

I wonder if he would take me with him, help me escape. Or at least come back to see me.

Suddenly the doorknob turns and begins to swing open. I wrap my knees against my chest, shielding my naked body. The man’s angry voice sounds and

the intruder backs out quickly. I release the breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding in.

The shiver that runs through me has nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with the men outside the bathroom door.

Straining my ears, I can hear the others depart the room and the man’s heavy

footsteps striding toward the bathroom.

“It’s just me,” he says loudly, knocking once before pushing the door open.

Looking up as he enters, I see his face is set into a scowl. His eyebrows are scrunched up into a thick angry line. His fists tighten around the towels he is holding.

“Relax, they’re gone,” he says in a low growl, which has me pushing back further into the corner of the tub. I no longer fear this man physically, but my whole body is a live wire of nerves. I can’t help but be set on edge by the angry and annoyed vibe he is projecting.

I watch as he turns toward the vanity and begins pulling open the draws and

rifling through them, clearly looking for something.

“What are you looking for?” I find myself asking.

“A fucking hairbrush,” he mutters tersely.

Letting myself relax under the effects of the hot water, I reach up and touch

the mess that is my hair. Although clean thanks to my frequent showers, it’s a mass of unruly tangles.

“I could use one,” I tell him, trying to finger comb it as best as possible.

“This cheap plastic comb will have to do.”

The man walks toward the tub with a folded towel and the comb in his hand.

He turns off the water, then surprises me by putting the towel down on the floor by the edge and kneeling down onto it.

“Turn around,” he states firmly, holding up the comb.

“Thank you, I can do it.” I reach out to grab the comb from his hand. I may

not have a super sensitive head, but I don’t want him angrily pulling and tugging through my snarls.

“I’ll do it,” he says again. “Just turn around and relax.”

“Fine.” I huff, knowing I won’t win an argument with this man. Turning my

body so my hair is over the side of the tub, I brace myself.

The man gathers my hair in his large hands and splits it into two equal sections. Taking one section, he starts at the bottom and begins to comb through it expertly.

“How’d you learn to do this?” I ask incredulously.

“I used to have long hair.”

Surprised, I quickly twist my body to face him. “Really?”

“It was a long time ago,” he says with a grin. “I was an unkempt college student.”

Placing his hand on the crown of my head, he redirects me back into position.

“Why did you cut it?” I can’t help but be intrigued, wondering what he looked like with long, dark, and no doubt wavy hair.

The man hesitates before answering. “Someone suggested that it would be better if I looked more corporate.”

“Sounds like something my dad would say,” I scoff; my dad hadn’t liked it

when I dyed my hair purple in junior high school.

The man continues to gently comb my hair, lulling me into a peacefully relaxed state.

“How’s your cunt feeling?” he asks, breaking the silence as he continues his methodical combing of my hair.

“Umm … ” I mutter, inexplicably embarrassed, considering all that we had

shared.

He leans forward and slips one of his hands into the water, running it down

my stomach and gently cupping my pussy. I quickly grab his wrist, attempting to restrain him.

“Sir.”

“Is the hot water helping any?”

“Yes,” I answer truthfully.

“Good.” He kisses my neck, sending an unwanted shock of pleasure through

my body. He lazily pets me for several moments before removing his hand and

continuing to comb through my tangles.