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His pale green eyes hold my gaze as he trails his other hand excruciatingly slowly down my neck, between my breasts, over my mound, and to the heart of me. He circles my clit, teasing me, not providing any reprieve. He uses one thick finger to stroke me from center to that bud, but never touches it to give me any relief.
The pressure builds and builds as he plays and torments me.
I wrestle my wrists to free them when he stills, pulling me flush to him, his hot length throbbing between our bellies.
“I want to touch you.” It comes out as a ragged whisper, the power in my voice gone with my desperation.
“And I want you to take, Brighton. Take what I give you, take your pleasure, but only when I give it.”
“Well, then, get on with it.” My sass is unmistakable.
“Oh, no, baby. This is going to take some time. For years, you’ve flaunted everything you have—everything you are—in front of me, making me hard, leaving me wanting. I’m not rushing this.”
He leans down to trail kisses to my nipple while allowing his hand not holding my wrists to move between my legs. I open for him, desperate for his touch, desperate for relief. His fingers trail up one thigh, only to mock me by disappearing and returning inside my other to move in the same way.
His palm above my ass soothes me and entices me at the same time.
“Eli,” I whimper.
“Love hearing you say my name, baby.” His voice sounds over the rushing water and the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears. “Wonder how many times I can get you to shout it tonight.”
“None at this rate,” I deadpan and drop my chin, staring into his eyes, keeping mine hard. But the “Oh” that comes from my lips is unavoidable as he keeps my gaze.
“Challenge accepted, Miss Ranger.” The grin that breaks across his face is impossible not to reciprocate.
“Do your worst, Mr. Finchley.”
He drops to his knees, throwing my leg over his shoulder, and feasts on my pussy. He holds me to him as if I could disappear into thin air if he doesn’t have a solid grasp on my ass.
“I’m going to… I… Fuck. Eli!” The shout the rips from my chest mirrors the pleasure rippling from my core. It echoes off the tiles and glass walls and, like my orgasm, seems to echo and extend. My leg wants to give out, and I give him more of my weight. Even after I come, he doesn’t stop. His fingers enter me, searching for that most sensitive spot inside as he nips and presses his tongue to my center.
When he sucks hard again, I’m done for. He catches me as I fall, but it isn’t my legs buckling that worries me.
I’m falling—definitely falling—and it isn’t physical.
“Fuck. Your mouth is amazing.”
“You liked that? Seems your pussy loves my mouth. That’s twice you’ve come on my tongue.”
“Can’t argue that.” I stand, extending a hand to him. He accepts, and we stand under the jets, water spraying everywhere, creating a mist around us.
I pull the handheld off the wall and switch the flow on, washing the conditioner from my hair before running it over my body to rinse off what’s left of the soap and hair mask.
Eli extends a hand. “May I?”
I extend the wand to him, and he turns me, my back to his front, as he continues to pour the water over me. He parts my folds, exposing my sex, and rinses me there, but I’m so sensitive, I moan when the water hits me.
The iron band of his arm locks under my breasts, and he continues the pulsing shower head as I twitch and move from the pressure on my sensitive body.
“You torture me, Brighton.” I can feel the heat of his breath at my ear. “For more than a decade. Hell, maybe longer than that. You’re fucking gorgeous. For years you’ve paraded it in front of me. The hair, the tits, the ass.” He slides his erection against the top of my cheeks for emphasis. “Absolute fucking torture. There are days I wonder if you know just how beautiful you are. Because it’s not the hair and the tits and the ass.”
I stiffen. Here we go. Here comes the rejection I’ve braced for.
“It’s the freckles on your chest and the curve of your smile.” He nips my earlobe as his fingers play under the swell of my breast. “It’s the twinkle in your eye when you’re up to no good. You’re absolutely fucking brilliant, Brighton. You can’t know how much that turns me on.” He presses his erection at my lower back up and down. “Or maybe you do.”
“But your attitude. And, fuck me, the look on your face when you come… when I make you come. That will be my undoing. I don’t think that I can ever get that image unseared from my brain. And I know I don’t want to. I wake up in the middle of the night thinking of your hooded eyes, your mouth open in ecstasy, the look of pleasure and trust on your face as I give you that.”
He lets the shower head fall from my throbbing clit and cups my sex as he continues whispering in my ear, “Mine. This is mine. You are mine. I want every one of your orgasms for the rest of time. No one touches you but me.”
