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He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Right. In the shower, and I will ensure you are thoroughly cleaned—inside and out.”
I snapped my heels together and saluted. “Very good, sir.”
He rested his hands on the wall next to my
head, trapping me. “You do know you’re heading for a punishment fuck, don’t you?”
“I thought I’d worn you out in the boathouse,” I whispered.
He shoved his pelvis against me. “Impossible. I’m hot for you all the time.”
I didn’t doubt it. His erection bulged in his pants. I crushed my thighs together, remembering how he had quickly found me out earlier in the day.
“Upstairs,” he hissed in my ear. “And get undressed.”
Chapter Twenty
I ducked under his arm, giggling childishly, scurried out of the study then bounded up the stairs. Arriving in our bedroom, I scrambled out of my clothes, flinging them on the floor in a heap. He wanted to clean me. That meant the bathroom. I scampered into the en suite and switched on the shower. I kept checking over my shoulder as I waited for the water to warm up, half expecting Stefan to burst in.
The cubicle had glass on three sides from floor to ceiling. A mixture of aqua blue and cream mosaic tiles covered the back wall. I opened the door and stepped under the monsoon head, tipping my face up into the warm spray. The heat built, turning the air about me misty and the glass steamed up, hiding the rest of the room.
I went to open the bottle of gel then remembered that Stefan planned to clean me. I turned down the water temperature. I didn’t need the extra heat—my own body had lit its internal fire of lust.
The bathroom door clicked. I peered through foggy glass and saw a shadow—Stefan. I wiped a small porthole in the condensation and gasped. He stripped then he walked across the room toward the cubicle with a purposeful stride. I backed away from the cubicle door, squeezing myself into the corner.
By the time he joined me, the moisture in the air had frizzed his hair into little spikes. He shut the door behind me and stood, head cocked to one side, rubbing his chin. How I loved his goatee, the way it framed his lips and mouth, making them inviting. I focused on his mouth, because, below, his cock had risen up, stiffening with each passing second. I swallowed hard, waiting for him to speak.
“You need a good cleaning, don’t you, Mausi?”
I nodded, unable to form words.
“Why? What makes me want to give you a deep cleanse?” He switched off the shower, the noise of the powerful pump ceasing.
I wrapped my arms about my body, trying to cover myself. “I’m…a dirty girl?” I squeaked.
“Very dirty,” he growled.
My pulse shot into the stratosphere. He picked up the bottle of white moisturizing crème, one of those types with an incorporated hook for hanging upside down.
“Stand up straight and move those arms.” He flicked the cap open.
I complied, dropping my arms to my side and shuffling toward him. He aimed the container at my chest and squeezed. White liquid shot out, landing just above my breasts. It trickled down my cleavage, forming a gloopy trail. He re-hung the bottle and flexed his fingers.
He smeared the gel around my boobs. The cleanser frothed into a creamy lather, turning my breasts alabaster, as if he’d transformed them into marble. It tickled a bit. I wriggled, twisting my hips about as he massaged with his fingers. My nipples stuck out, forming purple pebbles in a sea of crème.
I’d backed against the glazing. Bumping into the cool glass, I yelped. With me sandwiched there, he worked his knuckles into my tender flesh, making me moan. It didn’t hurt, but it was close to the edge of pain.
He didn’t look at his hands. Instead, he fixed on my eyes. Whenever I opened mine, he was there, staring at me intently. When he seized my soaped breasts in his large palms, he lifted them, forcing me to stand on tiptoes and slide up the glass wall. I stretched my arms up, hoping to find something to cling onto, but there was nothing.
A rich stream of adrenaline coursed through my bloodstream, pumping excitement into every nerve ending, making my heart race and my belly fizz. “Please,” I implored.
He smirked his special ‘Stefan in control, do as I say’ expression.
“Damn you!” I screeched.
He let go of my breasts, and I slithered down.
“I haven’t finished yet.” He opened the bottle again and squirted a liberal amount of liquid into the palm of his hand. “Turn around, hands above your head, flat to the glass.”
