Not once did Brutus let up on the kiss, though. He held me like I weighed little more than a trophy. And he held onto me like one, too. As if I was some prize that he’d won and he’d be damned if he let it go for the world. That feeling of security and safety enveloped me, and I clung to his shoulders while he plundered my mouth.
Before long, Brutus pulled back just enough to say, “I don’t want this night to end.” He stared me in the eyes, willing me to get his intent. “Invite me in, Mia. Let me wash the saltwater off of you.”
I blinked. “Is that all you want to do?” I purred against his lips.
He nipped at my bottom lip. “That’s only the beginning. I’ll start by cleaning you off and end by worshiping your pussy all night long.”
The muscles in my lower belly tightened. “Yes, I think I want that, too.”
The sentence barely left my mouth before Brutus pushed through the door of my bungalow. He only stopped briefly to pick up the bag I’d let fall to the floor before ushering us both inside. How he still held me against his body while he secured the door and then quickly strode up the stairs to the second floor was a testament to his strength.
I marveled at how fluidly and easily he moved for a man of his size.
As we entered the master bathroom, I wanted to ask how he knew exactly where everything was. Then I remembered. “Did you memorize the layout of my bungalow?”
A sly grin slid across his lips, and my pussy wept for relief. He was in my apartment for only a few minutes that first night when he insisted on checking to make sure it was safe.
He moved to the marble countertop by the bathroom sink and set me down on it. “I sure as hell did,” he answered before sliding his hands down my leg and removing my strappy sandal. He did the same on my other foot. “Don’t move,” he ordered, and then turned toward the waterfall shower.
Brutus turned on the shower and waited for a beat, checking the temperature of the water. He leaned in and planted a brief but heated kiss against my lips before sliding the cover-up I wore down my shoulders.
“You’ve tempted me all fucking day in this outfit.” He locked his gaze with mine. “You do know that, don’t you?”
I swallowed underneath his heated gaze and nodded. I ran my finger down the length of the white V-neck that clung to his muscles. “I wasn’t the only one playing the role of tempter today.”
That was the truth. I’d studied him almost as closely as he’d been studying me throughout the day.
“C’mere,” he growled, pulling me from the counter and letting the cover fall free from my body. He brought me to the shower, and with precise movements, stripped me of my bikini bottoms, followed by the halter top.
I let my head fall back when he cupped my heavy breasts in his hands and began massaging them.
“They fit perfectly into my hands. You were fucking made for me.” His words were almost pained.
A scream ripped from my lips when he pinched both of my nipples. “Shit,” I cursed.
Brutus chuckled.
This man was going to tease me.
“You’re trying to kill me,” I groaned.
He laughed again. “You won’t die, baby,” he assured with a kiss to my lips. “Not before you experience all ten inches of my cock.”
What the hell did he just say?
I didn’t have time to process his statement before he undressed and then drew me underneath the spray of the water. He reached for my body wash and squirted some onto the washcloth next to it.
He lathered the entirety of my body, paying meticulous attention to my breasts. My nipples ached with need as he circled them with the soapy washcloth before moving lower to my belly. Never had I felt more cherished than when he lowered to his knees in front of me. He pressed a kiss to my belly, using his tongue to trace one of the stretch marks on my stomach.
“Spread your legs for me.” The words came out low, but they were an order nonetheless. One that I followed diligently. “Good girl,” he murmured.
Shit.
My pussy convulsed at the praise he just gave me. Not one inch of my body was left untouched by him. He lathered me up, and then just as thoroughly rinsed me off underneath the water.
I moaned when his deft fingers began massaging shampoo into my scalp, cleaning the salt water out of my braids.
In the recesses of my mind, I thought to ask him how he was so damned good at this. Did he have a wife or girlfriend stashed somewhere I needed to know about? But I couldn’t even think straight enough to form the question.
