Chapter Seventeen
LILY
I’ve lent myself a hand now and then. It’s hard not to when I’m watching the hunky purple alien on the only show I ever watch. But letting Apollo think I haven’t is more fun. He’s so much better at making me come that I’m not counting those times anymore.
It seems like it’s only going to get better as he carries me through the house.
I expected him to take me to my bedroom but instead, he sets me down in the bathroom. The reason is immediately clear when the room slowly comes into view as he lights candle after candle while water beats filling the tub with a thick layer of bubbles as steam blurs the air.
The room awash with foggy candlelight, Apollo approaches me again. His eyes full of mischief and locked with mine.
“That’s my job,” he says taking hold of my hands, crossed at my waist, and gripping the hem of my shirt ready to remove it.
After placing my arms at my side, he places his hands on my hips. Sliding them up my sides and then my arms. Raising them over my head, he strips my shirt and tosses it aside.
A soft growl rumbles in his chest when his eyes fall on my tits about to spill out of the bra that doesn’t fit properly because I’ve never been able to justify spending the time or money to get a decent fitting one. If it’s on sale and the size is close enough, that’s what I go with. Not going to find any fancy lingerie in my closet.
If Apollo is put off by it, he doesn’t let on. Even as he drops to his knees slipping my pants down to expose the near threadbare pink cotton undies.
Standing on his knees, his chest rising and falling with deep, heavy breaths, Apollo reaches behind me and unhooks my bra.
After pulling it and my undies off, he sets back on his heels. Looking my naked body up and down, he says, “Fuck me, you’re beautiful.”
I’d say it’s hard to believe. In his line of work, he’s surrounded by the most beautiful women in the world. I couldn’t possibly compare. But there’s not a hint of a lie in his voice or his eyes. That or he’s proving how good of an actor he is. I’m going with the truth. It might be naive or stupid but he’s been nothing short of amazing this whole time. I have no reason to think he’d lie to me. So, I set aside any desire I had to disagree with him and, instead, thank him for the compliment.
When he turns the water off and lifts me into the tub humming as the hot water swallows me up, I get the feeling I’m going to be thanking him a lot tonight.
Don’t have to wait too long for him to prove me right either as he reaches behind his head, grips his shirt between his shoulder blades and pulls it off.
I have no words.
All I can do is stare, slack-jawed, at this utterly perfect man. There’s a word. He’s… “Perfect.”
Water sloshes around me as I shift so I can reach him.
“Easy,” he warns as I run my hands over his muscled chest dusted with short, dark hair and follow the trail of it down his six-pack. “Easy,” he says again, more sternly, when I don’t stop following the defined arrow-shaped muscle to the eye-bugging bulge between his hips.
“But it’s what I want,” I say, finding my courage now that I have nothing left to hide.
“And you’ll get it. I promise.” Apollo takes hold of my shoulders in his big hands and guides me to lay back in the tub again. “I assure you. You want this too,” he says as his hand slips and slides down my soapy stomach to land between my legs again.
I expected a repeat of what he did while I was in his lap on the couch. That would have been fine by me. But I’m even more pleased when all he does is cup and massage my mound for a few seconds before moving the sensual stroke down my leg.
Every muscle in my body eases as he works his way back up my leg, takes a moment to give my pussy a little more attention before moving down the other leg.
I’m not sure I’ve ever been this relaxed. I just lay there, one with the warm water and scented bubble bath as his hands work over my entire body. Grinning when he spends a little extra time kneading my breasts. Turning my nipples gently between his thumb and forefinger until they’re hard points and my clit throbs.
“This is dangerous,” I tell him when his hand finds my sex again. The tip of a finger tracing the slick petals.
“How’s that?” He asks gently circling my clit.
He has me so relaxed I’d be content to ride on the edge of an orgasm, in this space of sweet torture, for hours.
Instinctively, my hips thrust into his hand seeking more pressure. “I could get used to this.”
“That’s kind of the idea.” The wickedly erotic humor in his voice pulls at the pleasure building in my core.
A whimper escapes my lips when two thick fingers trap my clit and coax that mounting pleasure gently from within.
