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I was about to greet Frida, when I saw Alaric standing there.
“Not used to having a bathroom hog,” he told me with a smirk as he moved behind me, reaching around me to grab his face lotion.
“I’ve been in here ten minutes,” I objected, squinting my eyes at him in the mirror as he rubbed his hands together to distribute the lotion.
“Twenty,” he countered, tapping some of the lotion onto my nose before rubbing it on his face.
Admittedly, I had been hogging the bathroom more than normal. I was suddenly very aware of how sweaty I’d been getting from the walks with Frida. So, yeah, I’d been doing quick little body washes at night.
I guess I thought I’d been more discreet about it than I clearly had been.
Trapped by Alaric’s body, I reached up to start to undo my braids as he reached to wash his hands, then grabb his toothbrush and paste then start to brush.
He scooted me to the side to rinse, and I was about to make my way out of the room when the water cut off, and his hand shot out, grabbing the back of my neck, and turning me back by it.
My gasp was swallowed up by his lips as they crashed down on mine.
Reaching past me, he slammed the door shut before reaching for me, grabbing my hips, and lifting me up off my feet, to deposit me onto the counter.
The cool of it against my overheated skin had a shiver coursing through me as his lips slanted over mine again.
His hips pressed into my knees, sliding them apart, then moving in between. His usual thin sleep pants did nothing to hide his hardness as it strained, pressing against the juncture of my thighs as he moved in close.
There was no stopping the moan of need that escaped me as I felt his hardness against my core, ratcheting it up in seconds.
My arms went out, sliding over his hips, then down to sink into his ass, pulling him flush against me, then shamelesslyrocking my hips, getting some of the friction my body was crying out for.
Alaric’s hands were impatient, too, moving down my sides to grab the hem of my tank top, and pulling.
I had to release his ass to raise my hands above my head, letting him free me of the thin material that somehow felt oppressive with my flushed, overly sensitive skin.
Alaric’s gaze moved down, taking me in, then tipping his head back, and closing his eyes, taking a slow, deep breath.
Trying to find some self-control.
I didn’t want him to be in command of himself, though.
There was nothing resembling control in me right then.
I wanted him as immersed in it as I was.
Reaching out, I grabbed his hand, lifting it, and placing it over my breast. I watched as his gaze snapped open, his eyes flickering flames as his hand closed around my breast, squeezing almost to the point of pain before starting to roll my nipple with his forefinger and thumb.
I arched backward, giving him more access, and his other hand rose to compound the sensations, leaving me arching into his touch.
Then his head was dipping down, sucking one of my nipples into his mouth, sucking, circling, grazing, before moving across my chest.
“Alaric,” I moaned, hips rocking restlessly, the need for release becoming an ache that refused to go away. “Please,” I begged as he shifted between my breasts, his hair tickling my skin as he tipped his head up to look at me.
“Please what?” he asked, voice rough, as he moved to straighten. “Please do this?” he went on, pressing a hand against my cleft over my shorts, dragging a whimper out of me at the needed contact.
“Yes,” I whimpered, rocking against his hand when he kept it stubbornly still.
“Or this?” he asked, and his hand was suddenly inside my panties, touching me without the barrier, making my thighs shake at the contact. “Or maybe this,” he went on, slipping his fingers inside of me.
“Yes,” I cried out, grabbing his wrist, fingernails digging in, refusing to let him move away if he had any plans of doing so.
He didn’t seem to, though, as his fingers started to thrust, giving me the friction I was aching for, driving me up.
