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Well, damn. She turned these tables, didn’t she?
I smile and shake my head. “Nicely done.”
She grins, obviously proud of herself. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Now come the fuck here.”
“I’ll get wet.” But she’s already shrugging out of the zippered hoodie she’s wearing. We both changed into more comfortable clothing before getting on the plane. She must have taken her shoes and socks off out in the bedroom because she’s barefoot.
“Yes, you will definitely be very wet very soon.”
She’s now just in her jeans and a tee. “I’m already wet,” she tells me.
My cock hardens even more and I grip it. “Get. Your. Sweet. Ass. In. Here.”
Her eyes are on my hand as her fingers go to the button and zipper on the jeans and she pushes them off too. “I hate wet denim,” she tells me.
Her in nothing but tiny white panties and a fitted pink T-shirt that’s going to be plastered against her breasts as soon as the water hits her is definitely fine with me.
I squeeze my cock, then take a long stroke as she opens the door and steps inside.
Her gaze is locked on my hand. She wets her lips.
“The light in here is really good.” Her voice is already a little breathless.
“Yeah, it is.” I reach out and trace a finger around one hard nipple pressing against the front of her shirt.
I grasp her wrist and tug her forward under the water, wetting her shirt, and all that gorgeous bare skin. Much better. The cotton clings to her and her breasts rise and fall as she breathes fast.
I cup her breast, running my thumb over the tip, but I keep stroking my cock. If that’s what she wants, that’s what she’ll get.
“Can I touch you?” she asks, reaching out and putting a hand flat on my stomach before I answer.
“Always.”
She strokes her hand up and down over my abs, to my chest, then down again, not quite touching my cock. She does it again. And again. Her gaze locked on my hand moving on my shaft.
“Abigail?” I finally ask.
She looks up. “Yeah?” Her cheeks are pink, her throat flushed by more than the warm water, and the hand that’s not moving on me is on her stomach moving back and forth as if she wants to touch herself too but is holding back.
“Tell me what you want.”
“I’m waiting for you to tell me to kneel like you said you would.”
I stop breathing for a moment. Then I squeeze my cock hard and groan. “Christ,” I rasp.
She catches her bottom lip between her teeth.
I take her chin in my hand and lean in. “Do you want to be on your knees for me, princess?” I ask.
She nods. Or tries to. I’m holding her too tight for her to move much. “Yes.”
“Do you know what to do once you’re down there?”
She tries to shake her head, but I hold her head still and lift a brow.
“No,” she says. “Not really. I understand the basics, but you have to tell me how to make it good.”
