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He twisted the hot water to full blast, but his hand nearly slipped off the diverter when she reached into his jeans and freed his cock. The momentary moan of the pipes covered his rough inhale, and the sound of the water pounding the porcelain mostly drowned out his low gr
oan when she closed her fist around him.
Not wanting to trip himself up at such a crucial point, he wrestled his way out of his jeans while she explored the dimensions and resiliency of his hard-on. Finally, he covered her hand with his own. “You keep that up, we really will both need a shower, and I have to point out, you’re a little overdressed.”
Steam wafted, creating a hazy intimacy. Her soft laugh only added to it. “Not as overdressed as you might think.” She pulled the tie at her waist and shrugged one strap from her shoulder. The fabric draped low in front—low enough for him to harbor serious doubts about a bra.
“Whatcha got on under there, Officer Brixton?”
She shrugged the other strap from her shoulder, and the whole thing slid down her body to form a blue puddle at her ankles. She stepped out and moved it aside with the sweep of a foot. “Not much.”
Not anything, and Christ, she had a body. He’d been up close and intensely personal with every inch, but the full impact of her standing before him covered only by lazy plumes of steam was…breathtaking.
Maybe he stared too long, because she put a hand on her hip and tossed his own words from their first night in the house back at him. “See something you like?”
He stepped forward and wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her close. “I like it all. I like this.” He kissed her—a long, slow slide of lips and tongues. “And this,” he said before bestowing a kiss on one dusky nipple. It puckered against his lips, and his cock stiffened in solidarity.
Hands clutched his shoulders. “Shower…”
“Soon,” he promised. “I’m not quite done here yet.” Taking her by the waist, he turned them so she faced the sink, and he took up position behind her. Their eyes met in the medicine-cabinet mirror, hers slightly wary, and for whatever reason, he liked that small sign of uncertainty over ceding control. In a fucked-up way, it evened the score, because he was feeling all kinds of out of control where she was concerned. Reaching around to cover her breasts, he squeezed them gently and lifted them. Her head fell back against his chest. “I like this,” he said and swept his thumbs across her nipples. Her hands dropped to clasp the backs of his thighs and draw his hips closer. His cock settled against the cleft of her ass. His hands rushed to her hips and held her fast as he gave in to the temptation to rub his hard-on up and down along the warm, snug channel. A low noise vibrated in her throat. Her eyelids fluttered, and a flush unfurled across her cheekbones. “Swain…”
“Shh.” He dropped to his knees again, still holding her hips. “I like this.” He kissed the sweet curve of one ass cheek, enjoying her warm, steam-dampened skin. “And this.” He switched to the other cheek and, this time, sank his teeth into the pliant flesh.
“Oh. Ooooh.” She braced her hands on the edge of the counter and arched her back, lifting her backside to accept the minor punishment.
“Since you did wonder how dirty I worked, I fucking love this.” He speared his tongue between her cheeks.
“Sweet Jesus!” she gasped, bent at the waist, reflexively, and then squirmed against his hold as he delved, flicked, and teased his tongue all the way up to the small of her back. He kissed her there, smiling against her dewy skin when he felt her legs tremble.
“I-I don’t think there’s much more of me to like, Swain.”
“Just one more,” he promised and turned her around. “Just this one little place, right…here.” Leaning in, he kissed her curls. Nuzzled her. Inhaled her until he could taste sex at the back of his throat. Her thighs quivered. Her hand landed on the top of his head.
“Don’t I get a turn?”
Fair was fair. “Yeah, choux, but you gotta give me a sec.” He leaned back on his heels and reached into the shower, then twisted the cold tap until the water turned from scalding to comfortable. Then, simply for the sheer fun of shocking her once again, he stood, sweeping her over his shoulder in the process. Ignoring her scandalized “Swaaaiiin!” he stepped into the shower. Once under the spray, he let her slide down his body—wet skin against wet skin—’til her feet touched the porcelain. Her hands remained linked behind his neck. “Cooyon,” she muttered, but with no real heat behind it, and tipped her head back to let the spray dampen her hair.
“Just trying to conserve space. I told you it would be tight, didn’t I?” He plowed his fingers through the luxurious, wet silk of her hair and then continued down the long line of her back. Damn, she was beautiful, all sleek and glistening.
She lifted her head and made a show of looking around the small enclosure before focusing on him. The steam and water brought out the gray in her eyes, turning them soft and cloudy, but he detected a dangerous spark of green in their depths. “I think we can make a go of it.” Twisting enough to lift the shampoo from the caddy that dangled from the showerhead, she poured an abundance into her hand, returned the bottle to the caddy, and then worked the liquid into a lather. “It’ll just take a little teamwork. I’ll help clean all your hard-to-reach places.” With that, she snuck a hand down between their bodies and wrapped a soapy fist around his cock.
The breath burst from his lungs. “Same team, same dream,” he managed and lifted an arm to search out the shampoo from the caddy and return the favor, but she slowly dragged her fist up his shaft and followed with a pass from her other fist, working him in rapid succession. His palm landed on the tile instead, too incapacitated by her quick hands to do more than brace himself upright and watch, mesmerized, as his cock endured each slick, tight pull.
This was no straightforward hand job. Somehow, she elevated it to art. Contrasting sensations—the soothing slide of her grip along his aching cock; the abrupt tug she administered at the end of each pass, which lifted his balls away from his body and provoked a jolt of addictive agony that had his vision blurring. Contrasting tones—the dark bronze of her skin against his. Contrasting sounds echoing around him—her soft hum of triumph, his ragged groans.
Just about the time he felt it necessary to warn her this particular hard-to-reach part was getting painfully hard, she stilled and rested one fist at the base of his cock. She snuck her other hand between his legs and soaped up his balls.
“Damn, choux.” His head fell forward, and he closed his eyes to focus on the sheer torture of her touch. “I think you’ve hit all my hard-to-reach places.”
“Not quite yet.” Her voice held way too much satisfaction.
He fought his eyes open and stared into hers as she continued devastating his boys with her busy hand. “That feels pretty thorough.” His voice sounded like a rusty chainsaw.
Flecks of emerald danced in the cool gray pools of her irises. “I should do a closer inspection.” She poured more shampoo into her hands, then ran them down his body as she crouched before him until she was eye level with his freshly washed assets. Water streamed down his body, rinsing suds away. Shifting onto her knees, she looked up at him, her plush lips parted.
His hard-on surged—eager to submit to her inspection. As long as it didn’t last more than ten seconds, he figured he could withstand it and still muster up his part of the teamwork. Flattening both palms against the wall of the shower, he dipped his head under the spray. “Do what you gotta do.”
“I think I missed a spot, here.” She lowered her head and placed a hot, open-mouthed kiss against his left ball.
