He begins to slowly kiss my lips but I wince from my cut, so he moves on to kissing other parts of my body.
He starts with the length of my neck. His kisses feel warm and fervent. His lips send chills down my neck despite the warmth of the water running down my body.
We both remove our swimsuits at the same time. Quickly to not lose the moment.
Once his lips reach my breasts he licks my nipple and feels both breasts with his hands. My breasts fit perfectly in his palms, I’m not even surprised how perfect they fit when everything else has fit perfectly already. I’m convinced he was made for me.
He turns me around—swiftly, but carefully—so I don’t slip. He falls to his knees, looking up at me like I’m a queen he’s worshiping. I wonder what he is going to do next, this man is full of surprises. I wonder if he is in the mood to play and if he’s going to go down on me again.
God I hope.
But to my surprise, he stares at my stomach. He is so fixated that it feels like my stomach is a painting and he is trying to find the hidden meaning behind it. I leave him to his observations. The pads of his fingers trace my skin, sending more chills through my body. I just stand there, still as a statue.
“Your freckles— they’re like a constellation,” he mutters, continuing to trace his pads along my stomach area.
“Have you ever heard of the constellation Cassiopeia?” He asks me.
I shake my head in a “no” motion. “I’m not really good at astrology,” I admit.
“Well, Cassiopeia is the name of a constellation, her shape is the letter “W” just like this one,” he says as he traces the letter W on my stomach.
I look down at him in awe. No one has ever paid so much attention to a single part of my body before. It’s nice being worshiped by someone who pays attention to such detail.
Then Aspen kisses my clit gently. It starts throbbing for more, it doesn’t like being teased. I don’t want to beg. We aren’t drunk so this is the first time we are doing anything without having liquid courage. I need some liquid courage in me in order to beg.
He kisses my clit again. This time with a little tongue. He’s teasing me. That’s for sure. He now blows on my clit. This is absolute torture. I just want him to devour me like he did before.
“I haven’t heard you say anything Genevieve. Do you want this?” He asks pretending like he doesn’t know the answer. He’s good.
“I want it,” I say flatly.
“How badly?” He asks.
I don’t know what to say. I never have anyone talk to me as dirty as he does with me. This is all so new. I normally just get in a quick fuck and dip. Not to mention the fact that I’m usually wasted.
He doesn’t wait any longer for my answer so he sticks a finger in my cunt to find out for himself. I let out a quick, loud moan. My sound echoes off the bathroom walls.
“Must be pretty bad, because you’re soaking for me,” he says. “Is that right, Genevieve?”
Fuck. I love it when he says my name.
Nobody says my name better than him.
“Yes!” I shout.
“Okay you dirty little girl, you shall get what you ask for,” then he goes to town. He sucks and licks and spits and does all the things that make me come in a total of two minutes. I’ve never had a man understand my body so well.
“How do you do that?” I ask him all out of breath.
He’s still down on his knees when I ask him this. He slowly raises, towering over me.
“You’re my queen, just like Cassiopeia,” he whispers. “All I do is worship the jewel standing before me.” Then he seals the statement with a kiss.
I just stand there like a wet looney. I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again. That tongue deserves an award. A Nobel Sexiness prize!
The remainder of the shower is quiet, but feels more intimate than anything I’ve ever done with a man. How does taking a showerfeel more intimate than sex? It’s a weird sensation. We both take turns washing each other's bodies with soap and then switch spots when it’s time to rinse off so we each have a turn under the head. After we’re done, I shut the water off and we take turns drying each other with the one towel hanging.
“Hey, you maybe wanna go snowboarding?” He asks me randomly.
