George slips the trimmer out of my hand, sets it on the bathroom counter, then stands to face me. In one swift move, he jerks his T-shirt over his head and lets it fall to the ground.
“You need to clean up, too,” he rumbles, leaning toward me where I still stand in the tub.
“I do? Wait, what—” I shriek when George turns on the shower. The spray is cold to start off with, and like Jet would likely react to getting dropped in a bath, I try to scramble away from the water. But George hooks me around the waist with one arm, steps into the tub with me, and tugs the curtain shut.
“Shoot. Your clothes are wet.” The asshole is smirking. “I know how much you hate that. You better take them off.”
“Oh really? You think you deserve to see my tits after that?” At least the water is warming up.
“It’s for your own good. You hate damp fabric. But fine. Keep your shirt on.” George kneels—still in his jeans—and dips his fingers into the waistband of my shorts. “But these are coming off.”
“On whose authority?” I cross my arms, lean back against the tiles, and glare down at the man as I try not to let on how much I’m enjoying watching water spill over his bare chest.
“The authority of the man who is about to lick your sweet pussy while you study his perfect head to make sure the trim is even.” He gives me a shit-eating grin before pressing a kiss to my inner thigh.
I let out a peal of laughter that ends in a gasp when he tugs my bottoms down to my ankles, then parts my folds with his thumbs. I kick off the soggy fabric so I can spread my legs wider. “I thought we didn’t have time for you to fuck me.”
“I’m a liar. I’ll always have time for this,” he murmurs against the red curls on my mound. “You’re soaked.”
“It’s the shower,” I claim, obstinate to the last.
“Hmm.” George guides one of my legs over his shoulder, then swipes his thick tongue along my center. “Doesn’t taste like water.” His silver eyes meet mine along the stretch of my body. “How do I look, baby? Got a good view while I worship your cunt?”
“Hell,” I gasp as my body clenches, because George slipped two fingers inside me when he said the word “cunt.”
“Focus, Beth. I don’t want to knock a star off your rating because my barber got distracted.”
I gape, and he curls his fingers while shooting me a taunting smile.
“That is a five-star haircut,” I hiss around my panting breaths that grow ragged as George leans in to tongue my clit, eyes on mine the whole time. “You better give me a five-star orgasm in payment.”
Damn it to hell, I can feel his grin against my pussy, and it’s one of the most erotically sweet experiences of my life.
“Yes, ma’am.” George sinks a third finger into my channel. “You want a tip, too?”
I bark out a laugh, then mutter curses as he commits to his task, savoring me like I’m more delicious than whatever gourmet spread we’re about to have at this wedding.
The pleasure builds fast, rolling up and down my limbs in a constant pulse that settles deep in my belly and sets my muscles to shaking. When my legs quiver beside George’s head, he loops the second over his shoulder so all I have to do is sit and cradle his freshly shaved skull in my palms as my hips rock against his eager mouth.
“That’s so good,” I moan as his curved fingers press into the exact right spot. “Don’t stop. Please. I’ll kill you if you stop.”
He chuckles, my horny threat amusing him.
And it’s that extra rumble against my clit that sends me over. As I ride out my orgasm with happy gasps, George straightens and lifts me until my legs wrap around his waist and my still-pulsing core settles against his hard length.
“I want more than the tip.”
“Oh yeah?” His wet pants land with a slap against the bottom of the tub before he kicks them away. Then he drags off my shirt and discards that, too. “What do you want, Beth?”
“You.” Our eyes meet and hold, mine going wide as I realize how that simple answer may have revealed more than I meant it to.
George’s expression blends gentle caring and fierce intensity. He pinches my chin between his thumb and forefinger, holding my face still so I can’t look away.
“I’m yours.” He rests his forehead against mine, so close that all I can see are pupils surrounded in silver. “Wherever you go, take me with you. That’s all I ask.”
And I can see that. Us, side by side. And I realize how lonely I’ve felt.
But not anymore. Not with him.
