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I yelped at the lukewarm water that hadn’t yet gotten hot as Bishop whipped off his shirt. He wrapped his arms around me before I could escape out of the shower. We were skin to skin as the cool water washed over us.
“Hold on to me. Always hold onto me when it’s cold, or uncomfortable, or you don’t know what to do. I’m your refuge. I’ll be your foundation when everything else is crumbling. Rethink everything, Pet. Cold doesn’t have to be bad just because they said hot was better.”
He cradled my head to his chest and I let my whole body go loose.
And… holy shit. He was right.
The cold was shocking to my system. But it had been hot and humid out on the streets of Amsterdam. And I’d nearly sweated through my body weight at the concert, just like I did every night.
I blinked rapidly and tried to focus on the cold with my new sensory awareness. And what I felt was the blaze of warmth everywhere Bishop’s body made contact with mine.
My head whipped back up so my gaze locked with his. “You’re magic.”
He laughed. “If you say so.”
And just as he said it, the water began to warm around us. I closed my eyes, the heat of the water all the sweeter after I’d just been doused with the cold. Little white-hot needles pricked me all over.
“Can I come in?” It was Mason’s voice.
I opened my eyes to Bishop. “Please?” There was room. In these expensive suites, they must know people liked to get up to kinky shit, ’cause this shower could easily fit three comfortably, and four in a squeeze.
Cash and Tank stayed outside. Tank perched on the counter while Cash came right up to the glass, obviously ready for a second show. His hand was rubbing the front of his pants.
Bishop opened the door and Mason quickly stripped down before joining us inside.
“He makes a good point,” Bishop said, leaning forwards. His mouth landed on my nipple, suckling water from the tip as it cascaded off my breast. Then he licked down my stomach, lapping water as he went. “We really do need to get the rest of these off.”
I shuddered when his hands finally got to my hips. He peeled my soaked jeans and panties down in one go, until they were a sopping pile at my feet. I kicked them to the corner and he ran his hands up my slick body as he stood back up.
His dark hair was only partially wet, some of the dark curls springing into rounds. Little dewy drops stood out on his eyelashes.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he whispered, as Mason started to massage my bare back from behind.
The glow inside me mixed with the pulses emanating from my sex. And I felt closer to orgasming than I ever had before.
Because this was it. Love mixed with lust.
I threw my arms around Bishop’s neck. It was on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to whisper it in his ear right there and then. I love you.
But even through my high, I could still remember his words: We start this, it doesn’t mean feelings, honey. You got that? You’re my fuck toy. I’d even said, Deal. If that didn’t count as agreeing eyes wide open, to his offer, I didn’t know what did.
It wasn’t fair to go back on my word.
Even if I had done the one thing that was off limits: I’d gone and caught feelings.
So I tried to turn off my brain even if I couldn’t turn off my heart. I let go of everything except the feel of Bishop’s and Mason’s touch and the jets of water splashing my body from all sides.
“Your skin is so soft,” Mason whispered.
“Just wait until we add soap,” Bishop said. “She’ll be slippery as a fish.”
With that, he reached for something on the wall. It was a bottle, and he squeezed some pleasant-smelling white goo onto his hands.
“Come here, Pet. Give yourself over to us. Go limp like a queen as we wash and pamper you.”
What could I do but obey when he put it like that?
Bishop lifted my right arm and placed it against the wall. And then he did the same with my left, placing my palm against the glass, near where Cash’s face was all but pressed against the sliding shower door.
I stood there splayed out like some sort of religious figure while Bishop and Mason soaped my body up, one arm at a time. Bishop really scrubbed me and I felt like just what he said. Some sort of ancient queen. I close my eyes and I was Cleopatra, being scrubbed by my palace servants.
Then, while my arms were still raised, Bishop said, “Stay still. I’m going to shave you now.”
I held my breath. I’d never had anyone do anything so intimate for me. I wasn’t sure if sex was even as intimate as this. He held my arm in place and wet the pink razor that he must have taken from the sink in preparation.
