She pulls back slightly but still holds on to me. “For what?” She asks.
“For tonight,” I say, pushing a strand of hair away from her eyes. “It was perfect, and losing it to you…words can’t describe how thankful I am for how reassuring, calm, and overall amazing you made everything feel.”
The way she rode my cock was my favorite thing to see. And the way her boobs bounced around in my face, her nipples begging to be sucked as her hips rolled against me, it was nothing short of amazing.
She smiles, then leans forward and plants a kiss to my lips—only for a fleeting second, but it still has my heart hammering.
We stand there, frozen in time, just staring into each other’s eyes, and all I can do is admire her.
Everything about her from the messiness of her hair to her swollen lips…the little freckles that painted her nose, they were like a constellation, a unique map I’d memorized by heart—she was a living, breathing work of art, a masterpiece I could admire for centuries.
“How do you feel?” I ask, lifting my hand and soothing it across her cheek.
“Sore,” she chuckles. “But a good sore, asatisfiedsore.”
“Come.” I say, grabbing hold of her hand and leading us toward the bathroom.
“Where are we going?” She asks, tripping over slightly but manages to hold herself up.
“I’m taking care of you.” I close the bathroom door behind us.
Although she’d never given me any notes about after care, I read about it myself on numerous websites. And giving your girl aftercare after sex, it was vital.
Plus, I wanted her to know it wasn’t just about sex—which she knows already—but I wanted to take care of her, make sure she was comfortable, safe, and most of all, I wanted to make sure she knew she was the top priority because she deserved to be treated like a queen afterward.
One article said“treat her like a slut in bed, but a queen afterward”and although I’ll never treat her like a slut while we have sex, I’ll always treat her like a queen every other time.
“You’re taking care of me?” Her voice is soft as her eyebrows knit together in confusion.
“You said you were sore,” I walk closer to her. “So, I’m taking care of you.”
“But—”
And it’s clear to me in that moment that her dick of an ex boyfriend didn’t take care of her after they’d…I don’t even want to say the word. I don’t even want to think about her fucking him.
But I’m pissed,for her, that he’d never taken care of her. If there’s anything Lilly deserves, it’s to be taken care of. And now I’m in her life, I’m going to make sure she’s taken care of in every aspect of her life.
A tear drops from her eye, and I reach out, soothing my thumb against her cheek.
“You deserved so much more than what you were given.” I tell her, hoping she understands what I mean.
She hiccups, blinking away more tears. “I know,” she admits in a soft whisper. “I know.”
Closing my eyes, I try to keep calm. But the anger is there. Reaching for the sheet she’s holding, I pull it and it cascades to a heap on the ground.
Taking hold of her hand, I guide us into the steaming hot shower. I would’ve run a bath for her, but we don’t have any bubble bath—something I’m going to stock up on from now on.
I did however stock up on the shampoo, conditioner, and body wash she uses…the strawberry one that makes my cock hard every time I smell it. And I’m guilty of using it myself occasionally to smell like her.
Am I addicted to her?
Yes.
Guiding her under the shower head, I watch as the water cascades down her body, droplets of water pool at her nipples before falling down. And I’m hard again…but is that really a surprise?
Moving her forward an inch, I reach behind her and squeeze a generous amount of shampoo into my hand before running it through her hair.
“I can shampoo my hair.” She turns her face slightly to look at me.
