My desire for this man knows no bounds. I’m eye level with his thick, swelling cock, and yet I’m still not close enough. The moment I release him, I miss the weight of him against my tongue.
As I scramble to my feet, he grasps my arms, steadying me.
“Easy. It might be slippery,” he warns, tipping his chin at the droplets of water on the floor.
With his hands on my shoulders, he turns me around and guides me so I’m standing in front of the massive mirror over the vanity.
I take in our reflections, my breath catching. The bright lights accentuate the stark contrasts between us.
My pale skin and bright blond hair are in juxtaposition to his tanned complexion and dark hair–dusted frame. He’s large and firm and wound tight with control, while I’m much smaller, with soft curves and shaky energy.
“You’re sure this is what you want?” He wraps one toned arm across the front of my chest, focus locked on me in the mirror.
Him.
This.
Us.
“Yes,” I say, hoping he can tell how deeply and purely I mean it. “I checked the dead bolt on both our doors before coming over.”
“Good girl.” He sweeps my hair to the side, trailing a path of kisses from my collarbone to the delicate skin below my ear.
I pivot, eager to face him, but he grips my hip with his free hand, halting my progress.
“You have far too many clothes on for what I have in mind,” he tells me. “Watch while I undress you for the first time. That way you’ll see for yourself how deeply you affect me.”
Emotion catches in my throat, jumbling my thoughts. With a shaky exhale, I force myself to relax. To give in to this. To trust that Alaric knows what he’s doing.
Shifting back, I give him my weight. He’s completely naked and wet, water soaking into my clothes, but I don’t care. They won’t be on for long anyway.
“May I?” He tugs lightly on the hem of my sweatshirt.
Heart jumping, I nod.
The change of pace is strange at first, but like earlier, with each passing second, I grow more confident in his plan to slow things down and savor the moment.
We could have gone at it and fucked right there in the shower. Just like he could have rubbed my clit a few times and gotten me off at record speed this morning. But his ability to prolong a moment like this isn’t just hot—it’s thoughtful, considerate, and supremely intimate.
I lift my arms so he can pull my cropped crew neck overhead. Once he’s discarded it, his rich chocolate brown eyes scan every detail of my lace-trimmed sports bra.
I reach up to the front clasp, assuming he won’t realize it’s there, but before I can undo it, he bats my hands away.
“Allow me.” He deftly undoes the clasp and removes the bra in a quick, seamless motion.
The second they’re free, my nipples pucker.
With a groan, he cups my breasts, gently squeezing and taking in the weight and size of them.
“Absolutely perfect.” He massages them for a few seconds before capturing my nipples between his forefingers and thumbs.
I hum as he tugs on the sensitive buds, rolling them and stroking them as pleasure zings through me.
“Look how responsive you are.” He pinches my nipples again. Hard.
Crying out, I throw my head back against his shoulder, pressing my chest into his hands and chasing the sensation.
“You love this, don’t you?”
