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Heat from excitement quickly transposes into heat from embarrassment.
Ohmygod, he’s probably thinking something awful like “this is a werewolf pussy.”!
Damn it! I knew I shouldn’t have given away that Christmas gift card to The Wax Museum Mrs. Calloway gave me. I just…I never thought I’d need a Brazilian and damn sure didn’t think my eyebrows were bad enough she had to “tip me” into getting them done!
There’s the faintest twitch from my thighs that prompts Elias to warn, “Close them, and you will be punished.”
“S-s-sorry, sir.”
“Stop apologizing,” my muscley billionaire master grouses, “and start learning.”
“Yes, sir.”
He lets the corner of his lips twist upward. “Exactly like that.”
Part of me hates that I want his approval, but the other part of me, the part of me his hot breath is hitting, and coarse finger is stroking loves it.
Elias retrieves a small jar from the nearby selection on the built-in shelf and slathers silky shaving cream to the hairy area. Calming lavender infuses my nostrils, relaxing my thighs outward. “That’s amazing.”
Like a man who does this every day or every other day, he skillfully drags the razor over my pouting pussy lips. His dedication to being careful as well as tender makes me wish I could reach over and thank his pensive mouth with an equally warm kiss. The fascination of his fascination has me slowly sliding my ass to the edge of the seat to give him better access. Each methodical move he executes forces me to grow flush and wet. He crawls closer on his knees causing my breath to catch, yet when his hand caresses my hip I swear I stop breathing altogether. As if I’m nothing more than the little toy he claims I am, I position my lithe legs wider, granting all the access he could ever dream. I keep myself completely open. Absolutely vulnerable to his fingers, his tongue, his cock that I can’t stop thinking about.
Elias’s fingertips glide over my now smooth, supple lips on a happy purr, “Better.”
I force myself to choke down the saliva and moan that have simultaneously pooled in my throat.
“Time to rinse you off, little doll.”
A trillion butterflies soar in my stomach as he replaces the shaver in his hand with a shower head. Angling the nozzle, he gingerly sprays the newly hypersensitive area, and the sweet intensity pulls me under an intense wave of euphoria.
Like the first high from some sort of drug.
Like a really potent dose.
I’m giddy.
Giggly.
Greedy.
I hide a small whimper with the palm of my hand as the water carnally teases my clit. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“Feet on the ledge, little doll,” Elias’s tone is low, dominating, and unbothered by the surge of delectable emotions coursing through me.
My body continues to react.
Incessantly.
The soles of my feet clamber for the seat while my toes curl into tight balls. My thighs crush against my painfully hard nipples, and I can’t stop my calves from pushing in and out like a sexual accordion. I twist and turn and damn near slip until I’m in some sort of froggy position, toppling headfirst over a cliff of miniature orgasms.
Moaning in eagerness and desperation alike, I feed more of my soaking wet pussy into his line of sight.
I’m so exposed.
So deliciously broken and exposed.
Fingers grasping into my thighs, I silently beg for more of Elias’s attention to land between my legs. His mouth to suck. Tongue to lick. Fingers to fuck. Any form of sensual connection will do.
Sounds of water crashing over my raw nerves reverberate around the luxurious shower simultaneously making me feel defenseless and cherished.
