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Authors: Renea Mason
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all of my view, caught my eye. I shifted until a large glass-enclosed shower—big enough to hold six people—came into sight. More impressive than the shower was the man about to get into it.
Cyril had already removed his sword and clothes, except for his pants. The markings on his back were barely visible from the short distance, but the planes of muscle? Clear. His arms moved, tending something in front of him, but with only a view from behind his task was obscured. It dawned on me he must be unlacing his pants.
Confronting a moral dilemma, I paused. Should I stay and watch, or leave and respect his privacy? My hormones voted for watch. Hell, no part of me wanted to leave. Earlier he undressed me, washed me, and then re-dressed me. It was only fair.
He moved his hands to slip his thumbs beneath the waist of his pants and started the laborious task of removing tight leather from moist skin. His actions slowed when he bent forward at the waist and wiggled the garment over his firm sculpted ass. I bit my lip, trying not to groan. Commando. Dear God.
His ivory skin flushed. The leather lingered over each peak of muscle as he lowered the pants to the floor. The knot in my stomach grew tighter. He pulled his feet free from each of the pant legs and leaned forward. I caught a glimpse of the manliness hanging low between his legs. The temperature in the room rose ten degrees.
He opened the shower door and reached in to adjust the water. I shouldn’t watch. It wasn’t right, but walking away wasn’t an option. I was entranced. The water cascaded over his body like a mountain stream over weathered river stone. He tossed his head back and soaked his dark hair in the flowing water while mumbling to himself. I couldn’t make out his words, but I admired how truly beautiful he was. Flawless. Not a scar or blemish beyond the branches of raised flesh.
“Mrs. Green, how nice of you to keep me company.” He turned to make eye contact.
My blood heated, and when I looked upon his face, it boiled. I could see all his glory. No longer hanging low between his legs, his cock stood tall and thick. Hiding my eyes, I pretended not to hear him.
“Mrs. Green, I’m sorry, I didn’t hear your response. The water makes it hard …to hear.” He paused. “Did you say you were going to join me?”
My heart hammered; embarrassment flooded my cheeks. Knowing he could see me in the mirror, I looked up and saw him sliding his palm along his erection with slow, languid strokes.
“Why do you keep calling me that?” I sounded like a petulant child. I tried not to watch his actions, but couldn’t resist the urge.
“What would you like to be called? Let me guess, a ridiculous pet name to make you think you are of some great importance to me? Something like baby or sweetheart, as an attempt to condition me,” he scoffed and continued his ministrations, never looking away.
I wouldn’t let him see his effect on me. Gathering my courage, I turned and stared directly at him. The only way to win was to take away his power. I’d never do it entirely, but I could be a decent actress. The situation needed an Academy Award-winning performance. Deep breath.
“Linden. I’d like for you to call me Linden, but if you just can’t help being a pompous ass, then Miss Hill will be fine.” I stood my ground and pretended my legs weren’t weak at watching him touch himself.
“Well, Linden, now we’ve settled that, why don’t you come here and tell me what I need to know.” He moved closer to the glass.
I’m not quite sure where my confidence came from, but my determination met him measure for measure. I closed the distance. “Now where would the fun be in that? You’d stop harassing me and I might actually like you again. We certainly can’t have that after all the effort you’ve put into being a prick.” I placed my hands on the glass.
He growled a barely audible noise. His body touched the glass, or at least one part of him was
Cyril had already removed his sword and clothes, except for his pants. The markings on his back were barely visible from the short distance, but the planes of muscle? Clear. His arms moved, tending something in front of him, but with only a view from behind his task was obscured. It dawned on me he must be unlacing his pants.
Confronting a moral dilemma, I paused. Should I stay and watch, or leave and respect his privacy? My hormones voted for watch. Hell, no part of me wanted to leave. Earlier he undressed me, washed me, and then re-dressed me. It was only fair.
He moved his hands to slip his thumbs beneath the waist of his pants and started the laborious task of removing tight leather from moist skin. His actions slowed when he bent forward at the waist and wiggled the garment over his firm sculpted ass. I bit my lip, trying not to groan. Commando. Dear God.
His ivory skin flushed. The leather lingered over each peak of muscle as he lowered the pants to the floor. The knot in my stomach grew tighter. He pulled his feet free from each of the pant legs and leaned forward. I caught a glimpse of the manliness hanging low between his legs. The temperature in the room rose ten degrees.
He opened the shower door and reached in to adjust the water. I shouldn’t watch. It wasn’t right, but walking away wasn’t an option. I was entranced. The water cascaded over his body like a mountain stream over weathered river stone. He tossed his head back and soaked his dark hair in the flowing water while mumbling to himself. I couldn’t make out his words, but I admired how truly beautiful he was. Flawless. Not a scar or blemish beyond the branches of raised flesh.
“Mrs. Green, how nice of you to keep me company.” He turned to make eye contact.
My blood heated, and when I looked upon his face, it boiled. I could see all his glory. No longer hanging low between his legs, his cock stood tall and thick. Hiding my eyes, I pretended not to hear him.
“Mrs. Green, I’m sorry, I didn’t hear your response. The water makes it hard …to hear.” He paused. “Did you say you were going to join me?”
My heart hammered; embarrassment flooded my cheeks. Knowing he could see me in the mirror, I looked up and saw him sliding his palm along his erection with slow, languid strokes.
“Why do you keep calling me that?” I sounded like a petulant child. I tried not to watch his actions, but couldn’t resist the urge.
“What would you like to be called? Let me guess, a ridiculous pet name to make you think you are of some great importance to me? Something like baby or sweetheart, as an attempt to condition me,” he scoffed and continued his ministrations, never looking away.
I wouldn’t let him see his effect on me. Gathering my courage, I turned and stared directly at him. The only way to win was to take away his power. I’d never do it entirely, but I could be a decent actress. The situation needed an Academy Award-winning performance. Deep breath.
“Linden. I’d like for you to call me Linden, but if you just can’t help being a pompous ass, then Miss Hill will be fine.” I stood my ground and pretended my legs weren’t weak at watching him touch himself.
“Well, Linden, now we’ve settled that, why don’t you come here and tell me what I need to know.” He moved closer to the glass.
I’m not quite sure where my confidence came from, but my determination met him measure for measure. I closed the distance. “Now where would the fun be in that? You’d stop harassing me and I might actually like you again. We certainly can’t have that after all the effort you’ve put into being a prick.” I placed my hands on the glass.
He growled a barely audible noise. His body touched the glass, or at least one part of him was
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