18
Chapter 17
Oh my word.
All of that naked Daddy on display.
I took the world’s quickest shower, making sure to scrub in all the important places and prepare myself for the monster cock I knew awaited me outside.
Afterward, I did as promised. I prepared a bucket (thanks, handy ice bucket) of warm, soapy water and headed back into the room so I could clean up Crowe.
And miracles of all miracles, he actually followed orders.
I would be lying if I said a small part of me was kind of expecting to find the room empty and the truck outside missing. But there he was.
Naked.
Andveryready for me.
Yay me!
I practically skipped across the room, ice bucket in hand, my body still humming with the aftershocks of adrenaline andvictory. Crowe watched me, expression unreadable, but I could tell by the way his fingers flexed and relaxed against the bedding that he was tense—in a way that had nothing to do with his healing leg.
“Ready for your luxurious spa experience, Daddy?” I crooned, running my fingers through the sudsy water. “I’ve got a five-star review average on Yelp, by the way.”
He didn’t say anything, just shook his head at me a little, those dark eyes never leaving my face. The silence was heavy and thick and, honestly, a little thrilling. I wrung out the soft cloth and started moving it over the large plains of his chest. What could only be described as a purr rumbled through his chest and I had the abject fascination of watching his cock bob as I paid attention to every single part of his bodybutthe one-eyed snake that was begging to be tamed.
There was something I hadn't expected about washing Crowe with a warm cloth, and it wasn't just the fact that his skin was softer than I thought it would be. No, the real surprise was how quiet he went, how still. It was like he was afraid to move in case he broke something. I took my time, circling his thick arms, the hard, heavy muscles of his chest, the sharp angles of his collarbone and jaw. Every touch was a new discovery, like I was running my hands over an entire, unexplored continent. Every scar was a story waiting to be told, and every tattoo a discovery I couldn’t even begin to marvel at.
He let me do it, too. Let me touch him, clean him, get close enough that I had to fight every urge not to climb straight into his lap and start what we both wanted so badly.
But I was determined to do this right. To give us both a moment of sweetness before all hell inevitably broke loose, as was apparently our fate. Or you know… the fucking commenced.
It took everything in me not to just drop the washcloth and climb on top of him. He was so handsome it almost hurt tolook at him straight on. All those years on the road—on my own, flitting from one adventure to the next, pretending I didn’t care if anyone ever wanted me—felt like a weird, distant dream compared to the reality of Crowe beneath my hands. I could get used to this. I could get used to him.
We had so much to talk about. So much to settle. But in the cab of his truck, he’d given in. I’d seen it. And the fact that he was here, letting me look after him like this felt like the proof I needed that he was in it with me.
Crowe let me have my little spa routine for a few more indulgent, shivery seconds, then grabbed my wrist so suddenly the cloth splashed back into the bucket and almost sloshed over the side.
“No more fucking around,” he said, and the voice that rolled out of him was so low and hungry I almost dropped to my knees on the spot.Yes please.
I let the bucket thunk to the floor, not giving a thought to the mess I made, and looked up at him with every ounce of pure, unfiltered lust I could muster. He tugged me closer, pressing my palm to his chest. He was wet and warm and impossibly solid. His other hand found my hip and squeezed, pinning me to the spot. I could feel the outline of his cock, hard and hot, against my bare thigh.
“Get up here,” Crowe ordered. “Now.”
I’d have pretended to argue, for a little bit, but I was already crawling over him, way too hungry for another taste of what we shared to even think of fighting him on this. My aching cock bobbed between my legs, probably leaking a stream of precum onto Crowe as I settled over him.
“Are you ready for me, or do I need to stretch you out, baby?” he asked, his voice a delicious, soft growl.
Oh.Oh.
“Fuck me, Daddy,” I begged as I hovered right over his cock. I didn't have to ask twice. In one smooth, animal movement, Crowe reared up and caught me with both hands, hauling me down into his lap until the head of his cock grazed the entrance to my hole. The heat of it, the pressure against me, made my entire body jump and spark with anticipation.
He held me there with his hands on my ass, kneading, spreading me open for him. "You're sure?" he murmured, but I could see the answer in the way his eyes burned and the flush on his neck. He wanted it desperately. He wantedmedesperately.
"Yes, Daddy," I said, and then I was lowering myself onto him, feeling myself open up, stretch, and swallow the impossible thickness of him. I braced a hand on his shoulder, digging in as the searing, perfect pain gave way to breathtaking fullness and pleasure.
He groaned, voice going raw at the feel of me sinking down onto his cock. "You’re perfect, do you know that, baby?” he asked, his low growl almost reverent.
