In a good way.
I should probably be annoyed by the assumption that I’ll just obey.
But instead, my body is already moving through the water toward him before my brain catches up.
What happened to your principles?
Remember autonomy?
Remember--
Nope.
Brain has officially left the building.
I maneuver carefully in the limited space, as there’s really no graceful way to do this in a such a tiny bathtub, until I’m straddling his lap, the water sloshing around us and threatening to spill over the edge if it hasn’t already.
His hands immediately find my hips, steadying me, and oh god he’s still super fucking hard.
“Hi,” I whisper.
“Hi.” His thumb traces circles on my hip bone. “Better than opposite ends of the tub, no?”
“Significantly.”
He cups the back of my neck and pulls me down into a kiss that starts as a gentle brush of lips. Then his tongue slidesagainst my lips, hot and demanding, and when I open my mouth to let him in, the world tilts.
I make an embarrassing whimper-moan sound that vibrates against his mouth as he deepens the kiss. The water sloshes around our hips as I shift, my breasts dragging against the hard wall of his chest, my nipples pebbling into tight, aching points against his gorgeous pectorals.
His other hand slides down the slick curve of my spine, fingers spreading possessively over my lower back, pressing me harder against him. I can feel every ridge of his abs against my belly, and the thick, insistent ridge of his erection trapped between us beneath the water.
Steam coils around us, making the air thick as his tongue explores my mouth with slow, thorough strokes that mimic what I ache for him to do elsewhere. He laves the roof of my mouth, teasing the sensitive inner edge of my lips until I’m panting.
When he finally breaks for air, and I’m trembling, my lips swollen and wet.
My thighs are clenched around his hips, the slick heat between them throbbing in time with my heartbeat.
Water droplets cling to his shoulders, and his eyes are dark, his pupils wide, the civilized man stripped away by steam and need.
His hands continue to explore underwater, relearning the landscape of my body in this new context. Water makes everything slippery, makes every touch feel amplified.
When his fingers finally slip between my legs, I rock against him instinctively. “Gregory--”
“Tell me what you want.” His voice is rough against my ear.
“You know what I want.”
“Say it.” One finger slides inside me and I gasp. “Talk, Sorrel.”
Oh my god this man is going to kill me.
“I want--” His finger curls and I completely lose my train of thought. “Fuck.”
“That’s not specific enough.” But he’s smiling against my neck, the bastard. “I told you you’d regret teasing me...”
“I want you inside me.” The words come out breathy and desperate. “Please.”
“Not please.” His free hand grips my hip and positions me just right. “Tell me.”
