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The water rose right along with the amount of bubbles. He still didn’t stop. Several times I opened my mouth to warn him that we were going to flood, then he’d hit some new spot and I’d forget everything but his caresses.
No one had ever touched me like he did. His hands were huge and capable of brutality. Truly lethal weapons. Yet he stroked me like I was so delicate he couldn’t exert more than the most minute amount of pressure or I would vanish.
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For the first time in too many years to count, I felt…feminine. Even sexy.
Then he parted my thighs and the warmth inside me evaporated.
“Shh,” he whispered, reading me though I hadn’t said a word. His soapy hand crept higher, traveling over my torso. Avoiding entirely the area he’d nearly touched.
Gratitude surged through me as he rubbed the bar of soap between my shoulder blades and leaned in to kiss my shoulder. I relaxed from the softness of his mouth despite the sharp teeth ripping through my stomach.
This close, he could see too much of me. Not just my body, but into my eyes. Into what was left of my soul. The amount of light in the bathroom made me feel exposed. I didn’t want him to know I was broken beyond repair. That he was wasting his time.
He massaged my back, just as he’d promised. His agile fingers dug into muscles that had been sore so long I couldn’t remember ever being pain-free. He splashed water all over his jeans as he crawled around me, but he laughed instead of getting irritated. Eventually I laughed too.
Then he would stop and stare at me, and I’d shift away like a coward because I wanted to kiss his smile and I didn’t have enough courage.
The next time he parted my thighs, I was long past stopping him. He’d just finished soaping my breasts and he’d looked at them like I was the hottest woman he’d ever seen. I was a fighter, not one of the curvaceous babes he was used to seeing naked. But when his eyes glazed with blatant desire, I couldn’t fight my body’s reaction.
I wanted him. Even more than I had before. Now that I knew the thrill of having him inside me, I craved the sensation. Except this time I wanted it even harder. He’d been holding back before, and he didn’t need to with me. I found freedom in pain.
Somehow I found freedom in him.
His wet fingers slid over the flesh between my legs, drawing patterns that added to the growing tension in my lower belly. God, it felt good. Already I had a much better grasp of what awaited me than a few hours ago. Instead of shying away, I lurched toward what he could give.
He slipped inside me, his fingers sliding slowly in and out, his thumb circling my clit. I bit my lip as my hips lifted to meet him. Water sloshed over the side of the tub, bubbles flying, and neither of us moved to clean up. I couldn’t get enough of the heat he’d created inside me so I chased it, lost in its pursuit, totally forgetting that he made me nervous, that the way I was acting was so not like me, that I was too afraid to kiss him.
I wasn’t aware of wrapping my hand around the back of his neck and hauling him close, but I must’ve because his lips pressed hot and hard to mine. Our tongues tangled and I couldn’t breathe for how desperately I wanted more of him inside me. Any part I could get. His fingers surged deeper and he groaned, somehow giving me permission to surrender.
Discordant sensations crashed through my body. I was so hot that the water singed my skin. So chilly that goose bumps rose on my arms. Warmth unfurled deep in my core, increasing my urgency. Anticipation had me nipping his tongue, his mouth. I wasn’t careful, and he didn’t seem to care. Mindlessly, I ground myself into his palm, moving in a manic, instinctive rhythm.
“Tray,” I gasped, the only warning I could give him. Even that took all the air I had left.
I came hard, my nails raking his neck. My hips flailed for purchase while my thoughts scattered. Heat rolled over me, chasing away the last of my fear. My entire universe centered on his fingers, and his lips, and the erotic way he panted directly into my mouth as if he were feeding me oxygen.
My overtaxed lungs cramped, and I sobbed for breath. Still, I hungered for more. He didn’t move his hand away, and I couldn’t stop whatever the hell was happening to my system. My thighs were shaking so hard that water kept sloshing over the sides of the tub, but I wasn’t even close to satisfied.
This was my drug, and he was my pusher. If I didn’t die from sheer bliss, we’d flood his bathroom and probably drown.
I could think of worse ways to go.
When I couldn’t take any more, I grabbed his wrist and whimpered, not capable of actual speech. He chuckled and kissed me, sucking on my sore lower lip until my eyes flicked open and met his.
“I’m addicted to watching you come. To giving you pleasure and watching you take it,” he whispered.
Barely, just barely, I resisted shrinking away and ducking my head.
He chuckled again, then glanced down at the floor. “Oh, shit.”
I dragged myself up from my half sitting, half reclining position and peered over the side of the tub. The mat under his knees was soaked. Water and bubbles everywhere.
Shock wound through my limp body. “Got a mop?”
Yet again he stunned me by laughing. Nodding, he got to his feet and turned off the water. We’d, ah, sort of forgotten about that.
“Yeah. I’ll be right back.” He looked down at me and caught his tongue between his teeth. “You really don’t need to get dressed.”
