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Removing the handheld shower head from its overhead position, he turned on the tap. Once the water was warm, he aimed the spray at her sex. She drew in a sharp breath as the water hit her. After a moment, he adjusted the nozzle, focusing the stream directly at her hooded clit.
Her eyes widened as the water pulsed against her. It wasn’t long before she was trembling, nipples erect, breath fast and shallow.
“You’re going to come, aren’t you?”
“No, Sir. Yes, Sir. If it pleases you, Sir,” she gasped in a tumble of words.
“No,” he said, shifting the stream away from her. “I think not. After all, it’s my day, right?”
“Yes, Sir,” she replied in a shaky voice.
“Drop your hands to your sides,” he said.
Stepping closer, he lightly traced the cuts on her thighs. Lifting a hand, he ran his finger around one of her nipples. As he touched her, her breathing slowed, her trembling body stilling.
He met her eye. “Red badges of courage,” he said with a smile. “You were very brave yesterday. They’re healing nicely already. Do you like them?”
Her eyes shone, her lips softly parting. “Oh, yes, Sir. I love them.”
He almost said they could do it again, as soon as these cuts had healed. He caught himself in time, however. Today was their last full day together. Who knew when, or if, he would see her again?
Setting that thought and the feelings it provoked aside, he climbed into the tub and pulled the curtain around them. Setting the showerhead back into its overhead position, he adjusted the taps until the water was steamy hot.
“You may wash me,” he said, power coursing through his body and soul.
“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”
He closed his eyes as she soaped his body. She started with his feet and slowly moved up both legs. He shifted his stance a little as she got to his crotch. It felt good as she gently soaped his balls. His cock stiffened to a full erection as she rubbed his shaft.
Turning from her, he rinsed his body under the spray. Turning back, he gripped her head with one hand, his cock with the other. “Make me come,” he growled.
Her hands came up to cup his balls as she accepted his shaft into her mouth. He groaned with pleasure as she sucked him into her mouth. He kept his hand lightly on the back of her head as she worked magic with her lips, tongue and throat. It wasn’t long before he felt the shivery tension of an impending climax.
“Fuck, yeah,” he breathed as he spurted. When the spasms had subsided, he let her go.
As she pulled back, she looked up at him through long, wet lashes. She wore the satisfied, triumphant look of a woman who knew she had pleasured her man.
He smirked back at her. Then he cleared his throat. “I don’t need my hair washed today. Let’s finish up the shower before the hot water runs out.”
She rose to her feet. He sighed with pleasure as she washed his abdomen and chest. When she moved around him to his back, he very nearly stopped her. But no, that was nuts. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen the scars when they were in bed.
He tried to remain relaxed as she washed his back, her fingers moving lightly over the ugly, ridged skin.
“Do they hurt, Sir?” Her voice was quiet, respectful. “The scars?”
Normally, he would have given a cursory no. Instead, he found himself admitting, “Sometimes. There’s some residual nerve damage.”
“How did it happen, Sir? Was it when you were in special ops?”
All at once, he was back at the small outdoor café in a sleepy Arab village. They were taking some much-needed R&R after a successful mission. One minute he was sipping his espresso. The next the world exploded.
“Yeah.” He managed a bitter chuckle. “It wasn’t even during combat. We were between assignments. A bomb went off just outside a café filled with civilians.”
The crashing boom, the instant of frozen shock, the explosion of glass, metal and wood. The sudden, blinding pain, the world drenched in blood, the terrified, anguished cries, the deafening silence that followed…
He closed his eyes and breathed, forcing the images away.
“I was one of the lucky ones,” he managed.
