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I'm going to wash him and then we're going to do dirty, dirty things to each other, and I'm oddly, bizarrely excited about that.
Kassam leans under the spray, letting it wash away some of the mess on his face and in his long hair. I start to wash every bit of him that I can, since the blood seems to be slow to come off his skin. As I scrub, I can't help but notice that his skin is the color of golden-brown toast, delicious and warm. His hair is long and flows down his shoulders, dark and messy. I wash him as best I can, but my mind is focused on things other than cleaning.
And I finally have to ask. "How come you made me…come?"
He chuckles. "Did I?"
"When we touched hands, yeah. And then I passed out."
"Hedonism. It is just as strong here as it is in my world." He looks thoughtful and somewhat sad. "I wonder what you'd be like if you weren't affected by it."
"I wouldn't be in here washing you, that's for damn sure," I say tartly.
"A god forced to wash himself," he muses in a teasing voice. "Truly a nightmare."
"Are you sure you're not on mushrooms or something?" I ask again. "Because you're not a god."
"I'm not?" Kassam sounds as if he's holding back laughter. "You're certain?"
"I'm pretty sure you would be able to clean yourself if you were," I point out. "And I'm pretty sure there are better people to spend time with if you are a god."
"Than yourself? Why is that?"
I shrug, moving the pouf down his arm. God, that arm. "I'm not exciting. You could find yourself a beautiful actress, or someone with a lot of talent in singing or dancing. Someone that does good things for people. I'm just…me." I grab his arm and force him to turn under the water so I can wash his other side. "A somewhat bossy waitress."
He chuckles again. "But I am with you. And I do not mind your bossiness."
"Of course not. You're going to get laid. Tell me that in the morning."
Kassam throws his head back and laughs, and the breath steals from my throat at how fucking gorgeous this man is. It should be against the law to be so damn…appealing. Like there's never been anyone quite as beautiful as him, or as magnetic. Even his laughing silver eyes pull me in and make me want to touch him.
"I really hope you're not a serial killer," I whisper, fascinated by him.
He gazes down at me, all strong jaw scruffed up by a slight beard. "I am a god."
"Well, parts of you are definitely god-like." I glance down at his wet, clinging pants and there's a massive, hard length straining against the front of his clothing. It's outlined magnificently thanks to the water, to the point that I can see the mushroomed tip of him. My mouth waters.
"Am I clean enough?" he asks.
"For?" I need to shampoo his hair and give him another good soaping. He needs to take his pants off so I can wash the rest of him. And—
Kassam picks me up by the hips, hauls me up against the wall, and kisses me.
3
Oh boy. I wasn't expecting that.
Heat curls through my belly as his mouth slicks over mine, his tongue hot and hungry. He kisses like a frantic beast, like a man that hasn't been kissed in ages. He's all insatiable need, and a moan escapes me before I realize I'm making any sort of sound. His lips on mine feel like…heaven. I've kissed a decent amount of men in the past, but no one's ever affected me like this. Like I'm going to fall apart if his tongue ever leaves my mouth. Like his kisses are the only things holding me together. Like I'm going to burst into another spontaneous orgasm with a few more flicks of his tongue. Even the insistent, abrasive graze of his beard against my jaw feels erotic as hell.
He lifts his mouth for a moment to grin down at me. "I like kissing you."
"Oh…okay." I blink up at him, dazed. "Are we…are we not supposed to like kissing each other?"
He shrugs. "It helps." His hand goes behind my neck, his hips pressing me to the wall, and he kisses me again. This time, the kiss is slower, more languid, and I have a hard time concentrating on anything but the heat of his mouth on mine. He said something about…how liking his kiss helps, and I want to ask more, but then he starts to kiss down my neck, and I'm lost.
Because there's nothing quite like a good neck kiss. A man that knows how to nibble on your throat in a way that makes your toes curl is absolutely a keeper, and it's clear Kassam is very experienced in this sort of thing. I whimper as his tongue glides up the side of my throat, as if he's tasting me. "Jesus Christ," I whisper, legs locked tight around his hips. "You're far too good at that."
