Bab 65: The Desperate Need For Alessander's Touch

I should've known better, than to let Ferrai coax me into getting bathed by him.

Cleaned, rather.

The bastard insisted that my ankle was bruised, and placing extra sprain on it would be detrimental to my health. At first, his agenda sounded sheepish, and I could get behind his reasoning.

He swore it would just be a wipe down with a cloth, nothing too overbearing.

And I made the stupid mistake of trusting a single word out of his sweet tongue. Because, for the past five minutes, the bastard had been rubbing around my cock, with a wet cloth.

"H-Hey, that's enough. You can clean somewhere else." I said, struggling not to let out a moan.

Which I'd say I had been doing pretty well thus far.

Ferrari slowly lifted his gaze from my crotch and traced it to my face, locking our eyes he said, "I'm just being thorough."

A hiss escaped my lips, "Thorough my ass!"