buy it there.” “Up with you, then. Let's get showered and dressed.” Why did she love that he told her what they were going to do, rather than ask her? Wasn't that strange for a woman like herself? She'd been running her own life—and her mother's—since she was ten years old. But she sat up and watched him get out of bed, stark naked and as gorgeously put together as any piece of classic statuary, his cock semihard. Her mouth watered. She got up and followed him, naked herself, into the bathroom.
He was already turning the hot water on in the shower. He stepped in and pulled her with him, moving her right into him beneath the warm spray.
She'd always had a thing about water. It seemed a sensual thing to
her. And to be standing here with him, the smooth, wet heat falling all
around them, was almost too much for her. Her legs shook with need, her sex pulsing with desire the moment he touched her. She looked up at him, at the droplets clinging to his lashes. His eyes were as dark and unreadable as ever, but his mouth seemed just a little bit softer. She stretched up on her toes and kissed him.
His mouth was every bit as soft as it looked, and a hundred times sweeter. He didn't open to her right away, just kissed her lips over and over until she thought she would drown in her need for him. He grabbed the soap and slid it over her skin: her back, her shoulders, her stomach, and finally her breasts. Her nipples peaked so hard they hurt. And as he slipped his soapy hands over her body, she felt utterly cared for in a way that was entirely new to her. They didn't speak. This was a moment of just being together under the hot spray, that white noise of falling water all around them, embraced by the wisps of steam. A sweet moment, thoroughly sensual. “Shaye . . . please . . .” He whispered in her ear, “Yes, I know what you need. Here, turn around.” With his hands on her waist he helped her turn so her back was to him, pressed up against the front of his body. His cock was hard as steel against the small of her back. She opened her legs without even thinking about it.
He reached around her, her body still crushed against his. As his arm slipped over the soapy surface of her skin, she noticed again the small tattoo on the inside of his wrist. She grasped his arm, pulled it closer so she could really look at it, could run her fingers over it. “Tell me what it means, Shaye.”
His voice was low and smoky in her ear. “It's the Chinese symbol for power.” His answer hit her hard. Yes, that made perfect sense. This man
radiated power. But she didn't have time to think about it before he
slipped his hand between her thighs. He pressed two fingers into her
and her sex clamped around them. With his thumb he circled her aching clit, making her shiver, on the verge of climax in moments. Yes, power indeed.
Behind her his voice was soft and husky, right next to her ear.
“Come, Devin. Come for me. Right into my hand.” And she did, her body rocked by the force of it as pleasure shot through her. She bucked her hips into his hand, cried out. He held her tightly in his arms while she trembled all over.
“That's it,” he murmured. “Good girl.”
Another quick flash of pleasure at that. Good girl. He let her catch her breath, then, “Come on now. If I touch you again I'll come all over you like some teenager.” “Yes, please.” Had that really been her, that smoky voice, begging him like that? He laughed. “You challenge my control, girl. But it's time-to get dressed, get out of here and get you some coffee.” They rinsed, then stepped from the shower to dry off. He dried her himself, the nubby texture of the towel rubbing over her skin a sensual experience that made her want him more than ever. She realized then that no matter how many times he made her come, she wouldn't be satisfied until she felt him in her body. Her sex gave a sharp squeeze at the thought.
God, he was turning her into a nymphomaniac. Finally they
He was already turning the hot water on in the shower. He stepped in and pulled her with him, moving her right into him beneath the warm spray.
She'd always had a thing about water. It seemed a sensual thing to
her. And to be standing here with him, the smooth, wet heat falling all
around them, was almost too much for her. Her legs shook with need, her sex pulsing with desire the moment he touched her. She looked up at him, at the droplets clinging to his lashes. His eyes were as dark and unreadable as ever, but his mouth seemed just a little bit softer. She stretched up on her toes and kissed him.
His mouth was every bit as soft as it looked, and a hundred times sweeter. He didn't open to her right away, just kissed her lips over and over until she thought she would drown in her need for him. He grabbed the soap and slid it over her skin: her back, her shoulders, her stomach, and finally her breasts. Her nipples peaked so hard they hurt. And as he slipped his soapy hands over her body, she felt utterly cared for in a way that was entirely new to her. They didn't speak. This was a moment of just being together under the hot spray, that white noise of falling water all around them, embraced by the wisps of steam. A sweet moment, thoroughly sensual. “Shaye . . . please . . .” He whispered in her ear, “Yes, I know what you need. Here, turn around.” With his hands on her waist he helped her turn so her back was to him, pressed up against the front of his body. His cock was hard as steel against the small of her back. She opened her legs without even thinking about it.
He reached around her, her body still crushed against his. As his arm slipped over the soapy surface of her skin, she noticed again the small tattoo on the inside of his wrist. She grasped his arm, pulled it closer so she could really look at it, could run her fingers over it. “Tell me what it means, Shaye.”
His voice was low and smoky in her ear. “It's the Chinese symbol for power.” His answer hit her hard. Yes, that made perfect sense. This man
radiated power. But she didn't have time to think about it before he
slipped his hand between her thighs. He pressed two fingers into her
and her sex clamped around them. With his thumb he circled her aching clit, making her shiver, on the verge of climax in moments. Yes, power indeed.
Behind her his voice was soft and husky, right next to her ear.
“Come, Devin. Come for me. Right into my hand.” And she did, her body rocked by the force of it as pleasure shot through her. She bucked her hips into his hand, cried out. He held her tightly in his arms while she trembled all over.
“That's it,” he murmured. “Good girl.”
Another quick flash of pleasure at that. Good girl. He let her catch her breath, then, “Come on now. If I touch you again I'll come all over you like some teenager.” “Yes, please.” Had that really been her, that smoky voice, begging him like that? He laughed. “You challenge my control, girl. But it's time-to get dressed, get out of here and get you some coffee.” They rinsed, then stepped from the shower to dry off. He dried her himself, the nubby texture of the towel rubbing over her skin a sensual experience that made her want him more than ever. She realized then that no matter how many times he made her come, she wouldn't be satisfied until she felt him in her body. Her sex gave a sharp squeeze at the thought.
God, he was turning her into a nymphomaniac. Finally they
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