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That was the type of kiss a woman would sell herself to the devil for.
He knelt down and lifted me clean off the floor, slowly lowering me into the warm water. The heat was the perfect temperature, and so soothing. Once I was fully settled, I sighed with appreciation, fully enveloped in its warm embrace.
“Wet your hair for me,” he said softly. I dipped myself even lower into the water, enjoying the way it fully cocooned me. It felt like the most decadent embrace of my life. When I pushed myself back up, I caught him watching me with obvious interest.
Was I something more than a captive to him? Did he think me an enemy or was I more than that to him?
I shook my head. It was too fast. There was no way he’d fall for me like that. A man like him didn’t end up with a girl like me.
He popped open the top of a bottle of shampoo and squeezed some out into his palm. His other arm wrapped around my chest, pulling me toward him before he focused on washing my hair. He soaped up my long locks gently and then started massaging my scalp a bit more firmly. My eyes nearly rolled back in my head. Spirals of pleasure blossomed across my head, sinking down into my skin as goosebumps rose all over my skin. I gasped softly, thoroughly enjoying being taken care of in such an unexpected way. I vaguely realized there was a soft citrus scent, but it was hard to focus on as he kneaded the top of my head. When he paused, I finally found a moment to draw in a breath.
Carefully, he dipped my head underneath the water, keeping my face dry in the process. He worked his fingers through my soapy strands, rinsing them completely before he helped me sit back up. Next, he moved onto conditioner and as soon as he poured some into his palm, I was surrounded with the intense scent of blooming cherry blossoms. I breathed in deeply, sighing with pleasure when he worked it through the strands of my hair. He used a clip to secure it at the top of my head when he was done.
He knew enough to let the conditioner do its work.
He rinsed off his hands and slid them along my skin, capturing my sore nipples between his thumb and forefinger just hard enough to make me gasp. He released them just as quickly, smoothing over my sore buds with his palm, which only made them harden under his touch almost immediately.
When he was done toying with my breasts, he slid his hand down my stomach and I squirmed against the wall of the tub, both wanting him to continue and nervous about it at the same time. His other hand returned to my nipple, pinching it lightly almost in warning.
His fingers dipped lower, grazing over the top of my pussy and then further down against my clit. I gasped, still quite sensitive from the number of orgasms that he’d forced from me before. I flinched, but he didn’t pull away. That initial sensitivity faded soon after that, quickly replaced by soaring need that caught me off guard.
Why did this man have such an incredible effect on me? Why after so much did I still want him to touch me? Why did I crave it?
Questions swirled around in my head. I didn’t know the answers and even if I had, I had a feeling that I still wouldn’t have understood them.
He gently rubbed my clit, working up my pleasure slowly and steadily until I had trouble staying upright. Without pause, he released my nipple and wrapped his arm around my waist, keeping me upright while still teasing my clit with his other hand. My hips rocked and the surface of the water splashed against the edge of the tub. That wasn’t enough to make him stop. In fact, he pressed on harder, using his fingertips to lull me to the edge of orgasm and then back again more times than I could count.
Soon enough, my clit was throbbing with painful denial and when he did it again, I was left with no other recourse than to beg.
“Please, Jon. Please let me come,” I pleaded.
“Are you going to come hard for me like a good girl?” he asked pointedly. Another surge of blazing hot desire flared through me.
“Yes! Oh! Please!”
I slammed my hands down on the edge of the tub, needing to hold on to keep myself from pushing his hand out of the way so that I could finish the job myself. I swallowed hard. I bet he’d punish me for something like that.
“Come for me,” he demanded.
I didn’t need to be told twice. My body was ravaged, already weak to his confident, knowledgeable touch and I broke apart with savage intensity. His hold was firm around me, keeping me in place as his fingers danced on top of my clit. His touch was far rougher now, but I needed it to be. My back arched and my head flew backwards. His shoulder was there for me to lie back on. My hips rocked back and forth, my inner walls fluttering inside my core, and I moaned out loud.
The sound of it was low and guttural. I blushed almost at once.
“That’s my good girl,” he groaned, and my nipples pulsed with need. For several more moments, I rode out the remainder of that orgasm on his fingers. Even when it was over, he didn’t pull his hand away. It was as if he was claiming me as his with that simple maneuver and my cheeks reddened even further.
The crazy part was that I didn’t exactly want to fight him off either.
I tried not to think about what that might mean.
I closed my eyes, languidly lying in the tub. Pulses of pleasure still radiated through my body. I was so content that I didn’t even want to move.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, and I whined softly with embarrassment. I went to cover my bare body with my hands, but he caught my wrists and pressed them against the edge of the tub. He ran his fingers lazily up and down my body, worshipping me with his touch until the water started to cool. When I shivered, he unclipped my hair and carefully guided me down low enough so that he could rinse the conditioner out.
When he was finished, he lifted me out of the tub, not caring that I was soaked and getting him wet too. Gently, he placed my feet down on the plush bath rug and wrapped me in an oversized towel. He dried off my hair somewhat and started to brush through it, combing out the tangles far more gently than I expected a man to ever be capable of.
After that, he carried me into his bedroom and put me down next to the bed as if I weighed no more than a sack of grain. He brushed a stray hair behind my ear, which felt strangely innocent after everything I’d gone through at his hand. My cheeks flushed hot as he cupped my cheek.
“What happens now?” I asked quietly. I blinked several times, suddenly overcome by an overwhelming weariness. He smiled knowingly and reached for the towel, pulling it away from my body even when I tried to grab it and keep it in place. When he’d taken it from me, he grinned a bit wider with his victory.
