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“Do you want me to wash your hair?” he asked, and it reminded me so much of the time he bathed me after throwing me off the dock that my chest felt tight. Was this going to be our pattern? Violence and then sweetness?
I wasn’t sure if I could handle it.
“Sure,” I said, despite my racing thoughts.
His shampoo was a little masculine for me, but as he worked it into my hair, I moaned softly. It felt so good. “Tip your head back,” he said, and then helped me rinse out my hair. “I don’t have any conditioner in here. I don’t really use it. I could get you some?” I lamented the knots my hair would work itself into, but I shook my head.
“You said you wouldn’t leave.”
“I did,” he agreed. He cupped my chin, making it so that I had to look him in the face. “What do you need tonight, Lyse?”
It took me a long while to figure out what he was asking. Because wasn’t I being obvious enough? “I need you to touch—”
“Touch you, yes,” he said, tightening his grip on my chin just a little, jostling my head back and forth playfully. “But how? We could get dry and climb into my bed, and I could hold you, if that’s what you wanted.”
It sounded nice. It had been a rare occurrence so far; I’d gotten the impression that Omar wasn’t used to holding anyone. But it wasn’t what I needed. “Make me feel good,” I begged him. “Make me forget.” Omar didn’t crack a smile or a joke. Instead, he kissed me again before he dropped to his knees. “What are you—?”
Omar’s eyes dragged up my body; I could feel it as surely as I would have felt his hands, and I shivered again, but this time from want. “You asked me to make you feel good,” he said. “You didn’t specifyhow.”
He slung one of my thighs over his shoulder and buried his face against me. I cried out as he licked me with the wide flat of his tongue, almost working me into overstimulation, but then he backed off a little and used the tip of his tongue against my clit. I trembled and whimpered.
There was nothing to hold onto, and my knees were already weak from before. “Omar, I can’t stay standing.”
He pulled back to look up at me. “Don’t lock your knees,conejita, you’ll pass out.” Then his tongue returned to torturing me lightly, sending zips up my spine. Pleasure was building in my lower belly, and my hands scrambled across the tiles, trying to find somewhere to grab onto.
Omar grabbed one of my hands and put it into his hair. “Grip it as tight as you want. We aren’t moving until you come on my tongue.”
I tightened my grip, gasping as he circled where I was wet and ready for him with his tongue before dipping it inside, tasting me. His thumb slipped lower, brushing against the untouched furl of my back entrance. He didn’t press inside, just kept a pressure there that sent a confused pleasure through me.
I was barreling toward an orgasm that somehow felt bigger than any that I’d had so far. I was nearly tearing at his hair, nearly screaming, and he was panting against me as if I was doing something other than taking whatever he had to give me.
“I—” A wail ripped from my throat as my body exploded into sensation. I nearly lost my balance, but Omar pushed himself to his feet, keeping me steady. I stared at him, eyes wide, as I turned off the shower taps without looking. “Take me to bed,” I demanded and dragged him in for a kiss. I gasped a little when I realized that I could taste myself on his mouth and tongue. It shouldn’t have been shocking, but it was heady to the extreme. “Now, Omar.”
“Of course.”
We didn’t even bother with towels. He pulled me out of the shower and, kissing me, walked me straight to his bed.
I lay on my back and spread my legs for him, needing him to be inside me, but he seemed content to sit there, pumping his fingers into me lazily. It felt good, great even, but I needed him stretching me to my limits like only he could. “Omar.”
He smirked. “That sounds like a complaint,” he said, slipping in a third finger, and I bit back a whine. “After the way you shook apart in the shower, are you still so needy?”
I was, and I wasn’t ashamed of it. “I need to be close to you.”
A look broke through his teasing. Something incredibly soft and fond…and maybe a little afraid. “Okay,conejita,” he said, but then he helped to turn me on my side, facing away from him.
“I want to see you,” I protested, even as he lay down with his chest to my back.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “You won’t feel far away when we’re like this.” He lifted up one of my legs and snuggled in close. I did like it: we were twined around each other like string. Then, as he seated himself inside me, it got even better.
I let out a gasp as he filled me. Like when he took me on my knees, he felt even bigger this way. “This is good,” I moaned, throwing my arm up so that I could loop it around his neck. When he began to move, it stole my breath. “Omar, ohGod.” The sound of us moving together was heavy and primal, flesh hitting flesh. “I’m so wet.” I reached down between my thighs and played my finger over my clit.
“Fuck, Lyse,” Omar moaned. He hooked his chin over my shoulder and stared down the length of my body. “Touch yourself for me. Make yourself feel good.”
Shame bubbled in my chest for a moment, but then he moaned again, soft and tempting, in my ear, and I couldn’t make myself care anymore. I circled that little bundle of nerves, shivering at the combination of the feather-light touch and the heaviness of his hips as he carved a place for himself deep inside me.
His lips tickled at my shoulder and the back of my neck, and it felt sweet…but it wasn’t what I needed. “Bite me,” I commanded him.
Omar snorted. “What?”
