“Missed a spot.” My eyes shot open at the sound of Crowe’s voice bouncing off the water. The resulting gasp filled my lungs, and I held that air there as my heart stopped completely. I immediately removed my hands from my nethers and wrapped my arms around my chest. That only added an extra crookedness to his smile. “A little late to be modest, Dorothy.”

“C-Crowe. What are you doing here?” I clenched my knees together and pulled them to my chest, using the little air I was managing to keep in my lungs to help me float. Though drowning might be preferable right now.

“Just thought I’d clean up a bit. I never got all the munchkin off me after my stay on the pike, after all.” He cocked his head to the side with a curiosity, though that wicked grin never vanished. “Here I’ve gone all this time thinking you were such a sweet girl, but I may have misjudged you.”

My cheeks were absolutely on fire. I couldn’t get out. I couldn’t keep my body covered without sinking. I definitely couldn’t explain that I was touching myself to the thought of all four of them having their way with me. And above all, I could absolutely not tell him that I was throbbing even harder the second he caught me doing it. I now cursed the perfectly clear water that let him so effortlessly enjoy the whole show.

“I-I—” I was at a complete loss for words. It didn’t matter how hyper aware of sound and movement I was when I was dealing with someone who could move as silently and stealthily as our resident scarecrow.

“Don’t stop on my account.” He dipped his fingers into the water and drew languid circles in the surface tension. His dark eyes practically burned into me. “The last thing I want is for a woman to ever have to walk away from me still unfinished.”

I backed up, inching toward the opposite edge of the pool, away from him and all of my clothing. There, I found a spot where I had better footing and could more easily keep my head above water. I scooted back a little more, until I found a rock I could sit on. If I was mortified, my clit didn’t seem to get the memo.

“This pool is big enough for two people.” I somehow said without shaking any words. “I mean if you want to clean up, too.”

Crowe kept that gaze locked in mine. His sights didn’t wander down to my completely exposed breasts, nor did he so much as glance at the way I was clenching my legs together, trying to keep some amount of low key friction. “Is that right.” His demeanor was no longer playful. He spoke in a serious and probing tone, while those fingers just kept drawing those taunting circles.

His eyes stayed on me as he picked up my dress from the pile of clothes beside him. He dipped the material into the water, and he started wringing out the dirt and muck. I watched as he took care to assure every stain was fully and clearly dissolved.

Then he spoke, deep and severe: “Keep going.” He cocked his head back. “Show me how you like to be fucked, Dorothy.”

“What?” My eyes were so wide they were straining.

He didn’t repeat himself. He narrowed his own gaze and continued. “If I don’t see you orgasm by the time I’m done washing your clothes, I’ll come over there and finish you myself.”

My heart jumped into my throat, my blood scorched through my body, and I near came just at the threat of it. Yet still, I listened. I was shaking like a leaf as I slowly spread my knees again. My whole body was trembling as I placed my hand back down between my legs. His eye contact was unyielding, even as I slipped my first finger back inside. It seemed he was more interested in watching my expressions than anything else. I leaned back, supporting my shoulders on a large rock, I squeezed my tits in clear view, and then I demonstrated for him, exactly, how I like to be fucked.

He laid out my clean dress on a rock, letting it dry in what sunlight remained, then he picked up my panties and dipped them into the pool. He washed the thin lace with extra care, then he set them beside my dress, and he picked up the first of my silver shoes.

I don’t know if I’d ever been more painfully aroused than I was with Crowe’s vicious eyes watching me while his strong biceps flexed and softened as he washed my clothing for me. Is it possible to have a chores kink? Because it was triggering something deep and domestic in my soul that was hard to put into words.

I bit into my lip and let myself make some noise as I pressed on that perfect spot again. And again. And again.

Crowe took extra care to clean any traces of dirt from the shining silver surface of my shoes. He scrubbed gently, then paused for an extended second as he admired its sheen. He picked up the second shoe. Careful again, he began cleaning that last piece of my outfit. I knew I was running out of time, and a rebelliousness in my gut almost wanted to fail on purpose. See if he’d really come over here. See how someone like him makes love to a woman.

Love?

No. Crowe was the type to fuck a woman senseless. He didn’t know what love was.

Maybe I didn’t either. We were all broken puppets here.