When he reaches between my legs, his touch remains respectful but intimate. I gasp slightly as the washcloth glides over my most sensitive areas, and he pauses, his eyes finding mine, seeking permission to continue. I nod, and he finishes washing me with the same devotion he’s shown throughout.
I’m in a trance, lost in the delicateness of it all. Never in my life has someone treated my body—all of it—with such care and appreciation. There’s no hesitation in his touch, no sense that any part of me is anything less than perfect to him.
He helps me rinse off, the water carrying away the soap in rivulets down my curves. Then he begins washing himself, his movements more efficient but no less graceful.
I reach out, running my fingers over his chest as he washes, feeling the hard muscle beneath my touch. The soap enhances his dark skin.
“My body belongs to you,” he says, his voice deep and sincere. “You can touch me as much as you want.”
His eyes darken with lust as he watches me explore him. He leans down close to my ear.
“I keep catching the scent of your arousal again and again,” he whispers.
He takes his fingers and runs them over my forehead, down my nose, and across my lips—the same gesture he’s done twice before. Now I understand what it means. It’s how he shows me that he loves me without saying the words.
“Kiss me,” I tell him, and he quickly obliges, pressing his lips to mine.
The kiss begins tenderly, a gentle meeting of lips, but quickly deepens with hunger. He cradles my face in his large hands, his thumbs caressing my cheeks as our mouths move together. I moan against his lips as his hands begin to search my body—trailing down my neck, over my shoulders, cupping my breasts with a tenderness that makes my knees weak.
My own hands aren’t idle, exploring the hard planes of his arms, the breadth of his shoulders, the strength in his back. Each touch between us feels like discovering a new language, one spoken only through the connection of skin against skin.
He pushes me gently against the shower wall, his body pressing against mine. I feel his hard dick against my stomach, hot and heavy even with the water streaming over us. I gasp between kisses—how perfectly our bodies seem to fit together despite our size difference.
He pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against mine as we both catch our breath. The water continues to rain down on us as he reaches behind me to rinse himself off, then pulls me against him to help me rinse as well.
He turns off the shower and pulls me out of the bathroom, still holding me close. He grabs a towel and begins to dry me off with the same care he showed while washing me. Every movement feels like a caress, every touch.
As he dries me, he presses his forehead to mine and lets out a low growl that makes me shiver—not from fear but from arousal. The smell of his skin, the taste of his lips still lingering on mine, the tenderness of his touch—it all combines to create an intoxicating sense of desire.
“I want to eat your pussy,” he says, his forehead still pressed against mine, his voice so deep it sends a shiver through me.
“Wha-what?” I stammer, caught off guard by the blunt request.
Jabari pushes his hips against me, and I feel the hardness of his dick against my stomach. I’m entranced, feeling so loved, so wanted, so desired like never before.
“Okay,” I whisper, surprised by how eager I am to say yes.
He picks me up, and I grip his shoulders, wrapping my legs around his waist as he carries me, both of us still naked, out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. He lays me gently on the bed, standing at the edge just staring at me like I’m the most beautiful woman in the world.
He grabs himself, stroking his impressive length while his eyes devour every inch of me. Slowly, he climbs onto the bed until he’s hovering above me. He presses his body against mine, our skin still warm and slightly damp from the shower.
He stares into my eyes, searching my face for something—approval, perhaps? I lift my head and kiss his lips.
“I’m yours,” I tell him. “Take me.”
He kisses me again, his lips moving against mine with increasing hunger, but when he winces from his headache, I pull back.
“No, wait, you’re not feeling?—“
But he’s already moving his head down my body, his large hands gripping my breasts. I moan from the sensation and close my eyes as he licks and sucks one nipple. The warm wetness of his tongue sends sparks of pleasure racing through me. He lavishes attention on one breast before moving to the other, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak just enough to make me arch into him, seeking more.
He continues his journey downward, his lips trailing fire across my stomach, his beard tickling my skin. He moves until his head is between my legs. Lifting my thighs, he scoots me back a little further on the bed, then spreads my legs wider. I try to lift my head to look at him, but then he dives in.
The first touch of his tongue against my core sends a jolt of pure pleasure through me. He pushes my belly back slightly, gently, giving him better access as he begins to devour me with unrestrained hunger. His hands push my legs back, opening me up completely to him as he licks a long stripe from bottom to top.
Jabari eats my pussy like it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. His tongue moves up and down on my clit, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves before plunging inside. The alternating pressure—sucking, thrusting, teasing—has me clutching at the sheets.
He’s utterly focused on my pleasure, moaning against me as he tastes me deeply. He even explores new areas before returning to my pussy. There’s no hesitation in his movements, no sign that he’s anything but completely enthralled by what he’s doing.
