“So, so soft,” he murmurs in his deep voice, and I feel the reverberations of his deep timbre all throughout my body.
But turns out I’ve only begun to feel the holiness of his ministrations. He conditions my hair with just as much gentleness and provides a second scalp massage.
Next, he draws one arm up, placing my hand high on the still-cool marble, and he washes from under my arm to the tips of my fingers, paying attention to each one. He does the same with theother hand, pressing it against the glass, both arms still raised as he comes back to my breasts, which swing free. After pouring more soap into his hands, he cups my breasts.
Stepping close into me from behind so that his chest is against my back, I shudder, my pussy clenching in need as he soaps and massages my breasts, pinching ever so slightly at my nipples before washing down my belly.
I shudder again, and my hands start to drop, but his soapy hands massage up my biceps, pressing them back against the marble and glass. I sigh in pleasure at the reminder that he’s in control and I don’t have to think or worry about a single thing. For once, I’m not the one making any decisions, and it’s so freeing.
His hands come back to my breasts, and again, his thumb and forefinger pinch at my nipples. A hiss of pleasure escapes my lips. I feel his lips against the back of my neck, and then he’s rubbing down my belly.
Unlike most men who barely want to acknowledge I have a belly, much less ever glancingly touch it on accident, he massages deep with purpose down the center of it as he gets lower and lower. My eyes blink open in the steamy shower as I feel—Oh god, that feels so good. The pressure there, I can feel it in my?—
When he makes his way to my fupa, both of his hands get involved, massaging me in a way that is so teasing that I’m panting and want to turn around and climb him.
But no. I’ve given over control to him.
I just didn’t think it would be so hard, especially when he keeps teasing me, skimming his fingertips across my pussy in the barest touch before moving around to massage my ass. I’m not sure if there’s even the pretense of washing me anymore, and I’m not mad about it.
His hands are so strong as he grasps my ass cheeks, rubbing them firmly. I begin to tip forwards from the pressure, but before my hands move to right myself, his tail suddenly whips out to wrap itself around my waist.
I gasp. “But you’re not supposed to—” He’s supposed to stay glamoured.
His hands tug my ass cheeks wide apart, and then suddenly, I feel his hardness there and shudder with want. “I never was good at following the rules,” he growls in my ear.
I nod vigorously. “Rules are overrated,” I gasp.
“Move your hands to the front wall of the shower,” he says, his voice low and gruff in that way it gets when he’s turned on. God, I love it when he gets like this. Like a barely controlled storm.
He moves with me, his body all but cemented against my back as we step forward into the multiple sprays so that I can press both palms against the front marble wall.
“That’s my good girl,” he whispers in my ear before leaning forward to tug my earlobe between his teeth. His hands are still on my ass, tugging me wide, and I can feel water rushing down between my ass cheeks.
He reaches for a squirt of soap, and then he’s washing me there. I gasp in excitement at the intimacy as his fingers probe me.
“You said you’d give me all of yourself. Would you even surrender this?” he asks, one of his thick fingers probing my anus.
“Yes,” I barely manage to gasp, wiggling my ass a little further toward his searching fingers. “Everything.I’m yours.”
He does that satisfied growl thing that he did earlier, and his tail unwraps from my waist, instead looping around my upper thigh and squeezing. The very tip of it swipes back andforth against my swollen, sensitive pussy. I gulp, my fingertips scrabbling for purchase against the smooth marble.
“Relax,” he hisses as his finger continues exploring me. Guys have wanted to fuck my ass before, but I’ve never let anyone. This is why, I think. I’ve never trusted anyone this much to be able to relax. I’ve played with myself back there. Used some beads with a lot of lube and all the lights off a couple times.
But I feel safe with Remus. I suck in a breath of air and do as he says, relaxing for him.
His strong hands pry me open, and I’m even more excited at the forbidden heights he always pushes me to. Especially when his finger searches unashamedly against my back hole, feeling out the contours. The constantly rushing water isn’t exactly the same as lube, but he’s got me so relaxed. . .
His finger pops inside me, and we both groan.
“That’s right.” His voice is in my ear as he leans down, cuddling his face against mine from behind. “Let me inside your secret places. Relax and let all of me in.” His finger slides in and out just the tiniest bit, and my eyelids flutter at the unusual sensual sensation. It was nothing like this when I played with myself furtively in the dark.
I don’t know what it is about being with him, but every sexual act feels ten thousand times more intense when it’s at his hands.
“I’m here with you,” he murmurs just loud enough to be heard above the spray. I relax back against him, knowing this is what makes the difference. Trust, yes, but also the intimacy of being totallywithhim, present in each of these moments. I’ve never known anything like it.
My whole life has been so combative with the people around me. This kind of intimacy is almost beyond understanding.
And with his finger probing me back there, I feel even more wild. Like he’s stripped me down beyond skin to the being I am within. Human, angel, none of that matters here. We’re twocreatures who managed to find one another against all odds, and I need more; I’ve never felt so hungry formore.
