Eira's POV
"It is nothing perverted," he murmured near my ear. "If your mind makes it that way, that is on you. Massaging will help."
And it did.
The tight ache that had been nagging at me began to ease under the steady warmth of his hands. I allowed my body to relax once more against his chest, my back resting fully against him, his long legs bracketing me on either side.
"You seem very skilled at removing bras and giving massages," I remarked dryly. "I wonder how many girls you have done this for."
"Why do you want to know?" he asked, not even attempting to deny it.
"I am just curious," I replied, though I could not deny how comforting his large, warm palms felt.
"I have fucked countless bitches," he said bluntly.
I frowned. "That is hardly surprising."
"I simply fucked them," he continued evenly. "Drank from a few and killed them. But I never cared about any of them the way I care about you. I do not even remember their faces. I never learned their names."
