So aware of him already being inside her.
“Going to answer?” His thumb dug in beneath her jaw, forcing up her chin.
The water poured over them from the side wall, down the dress and her legs. She was soaked, and she wanted him to turn her around her fuck her hard, standing up. She didn’t want to have to beg.
What had thatfuckmeant when she said it?
It’d meantfuck, you just blew me away. Take me I’m yours,so long as she didn’t have to explain how she went from badass bitch to whimpering whore in under three seconds. Those wings he’d unfurled rendered this a scene from some dark web porno where angels did obscenely wrong things in all the right ways to their female captives.
“Meant that I…” She couldn’t help herself, had to say this. “Hate you.” Taunting him was a sport. She licked her tongue over her mouth. The more she riled him, the nastier he might get.
“Hah. Hah.” He didn’t look too convinced, so she raspberried him.
Immediately, he pushed her higher up the wall and lowered his head, his mouth, to her breast, where he licked and sucked, devotedly, long enough to make her brain go bye-byes and her throat seize up. He played with her with his glorious tongue, slurped, sucked, bit, while his fingers tunneled further into her pussy, shoving aside the soft resistance of her flesh.
Thrusting there in little jabs… Arching forward, she grabbed at him and found his slippery muscled shoulder. She was drowning, and he was all that kept her above the surface.
Soon, she was writhing, gasping, clutching at his head where his hair was stiff arrow-peaks.
The shower poured over them from the side, wetting them both, curling down her body in torrents. A waste. She didn’t give one fuck, not while his mouth had become her personal heaven. This beaster had her at his mercy.
Then he slid her even higher, and she barely had time to wonder where the ceiling was before he suctioned his hot mouth onto her clit. “Fuck!”
His palm on her belly fastened her to the wall.
Cyn stiffened, thighs squeezing onto his head. She was going to come, and she choked out a garbled sound.
He stopped licking, lowered her to her feet, and not until she had focused on him, did he speak.
“Soap me up, bitch. Earn it.”
Bitch?Panting, with a shaking arm, she swiped away hair that had plastered to her face. She studied him. He meant it. Fuck, this was hot.
Vargr placed a cake of soap on her palm, closed her hand over it, and she felt the slick of her own wetness on his fingers.
Wings still opened and pressing to the glass either side, feet planted shoulder width apart, he waited. His cock was standing up proud and, she’d swear, it was hungry looking.
He’d bewildered her. Mouth open, she shook her head at herself and decided there was nothing more she’d rather do than this. The reward was worth it. Did this debase her? She didn’t care. Hot, just plain hot. He’d made her horny enough to want to kiss his feet and all the way up him while he called her a slut, a bitch, or whatever.
She kneeled on the wet shower floor and began at his feet, soaping up his legs, absorbed by the feel of the hard sweeps and ridges of muscle and bone beneath her fingers. Having washed off the soap, she tempted herself and made him growl by nibbling on his knee. Tasting him, this clean man that still was quintessentially Vargr, it made her pussy squeeze in.
The scent of him… She put her nose to him and breathed in then raised her head and, with full eye-contact, licked up his as yet only water-rinsed thigh.
“Soap me. Not lick.” But there was a coarseness to his tone that had not been there.
Her soaping went up his body, covering thighs, belly, and chest. Until finally she smoothed suds over his balls and cock, washing them and noting how he’d ceased to breathe as her hand slid over him. Maybe she could end this by?—
“No.” Before her mouth engulfed his cock, he caught her with a painfully tight grip on her hair. “Notunless I say. You want a red ass?” His smile was grim, threatening, burning through her.
Cyn blinked, surprised at how that’d turned her on. Him, spanking her, would be incredibly wrong. She gathered her composure and continued with her task.
She kept going until the soap and her palms had travelled all of his front, over the corrugated ridges of muscle, his nipples, and over his beautiful, thick neck.
She paused, wondering if his wings should be soaped.
“Leave them.” He grunted. “They’re fine.”
They did seem to be perfectly formed and free of any grime. She ran a hand down the edge of one wing then applied herself to admiring and soaping his back and buttocks.
