“Lambert!”
I love it when she gets all flustered and outraged. “You were taking too long.”
My hands fall to her butt and squeeze, before running down the backs of her legs and up again.
“You’re—”
Her words cut off on a squeak as I lift her into the tub with me.
Yes. Slippery, mostly naked Kyrith is just as glorious as I knew she would be. She’s straddling my abs, her pussy inches from my straining dick. Her breasts heave where they’re pressed against me, constrained by the corset, and I want totrace the droplets of water running across her skin with my tongue.
“My eyes are up here.”
“I know,” I promise, meeting them. “But you’re overdressed.”
“Whose fault is that?” Her corset unlaces itself with torturous slowness.
Kyrith waits for it to float aside and drop to the floor with a wet splat before she settles herself more securely against me.
The tiniest hint of a smile plays at the corner of her lips, and I kiss it away without thinking about it. Magic. It’s so corny, but I swear, every time we kiss I become even more certain that one day I’m going to marry this woman.
The only remaining question is how long it will take to get the rest of her grooms to the altar with me. Well, that and what colour scheme she wants. I’m partial to a nice cornflower blue. I think it would really complement her complexion and Leo’s eyes.
Her fingers pet the tattoos on my chest as she devours my mouth in quick clever strokes of her tongue that travel straight down to my cock. But when I go to lift the world’s most glorious breasts out of the bubbles so I can show her how much I absolutely love them, she stops me. Her hands pin mine to the edges of the tub, the haughtiness deepening to a heated command.
“Keep them there,” she orders. “This is your moment, after all.”
Pampered by my girl? My head tips back as one of those hands descends beyond the waterline and grips my cock.
Shit. Fuck. God. Finally.
“Boss.” The word is a gasped prayer.
Twenty-Four
Kyrith
Lambert’s cock is hard, long, and throbbing in my grip. I hide my grin against his throat as I press a kiss to his Adam’s apple. I had planned to do this in the shower, but it seems I’m going to have to improvise a little.
The little gasps and moans spilling from his lips as I stroke him beneath the water are music to my ears. He’s needy. Whimpering. A study in rapture painted in bubbles and wisplight. His hips follow my hand, chasing more with his typical eagerness, and I school my expression as I lean away, stopping my movements altogether.
“Lambert.”
His pupils are blown as he lifts his head. “Yes, boss?”
That word, that stupid nickname, takes on a huskier tone and a completely different meaning as I pinch his chin between my finger and thumb. “Behave and don’t move.”
Beneath the water, I settle myself more firmly over his thighs, pinning his legs to make my meaning clear.
I already know he’s doomed. Lambert can’t sit still to savehis life, something he proves a second later when his hands lift from the rim of the bath again, cupping the back of my neck as he urges me closer for a kiss.
“Lambert,” I caution, against his lips. “Do you want this or not?”
“More than anything in my whole life.”
His earnestness fixes something inside me I didn’t know was broken.
“Then don’t move.”
