I pulled her flush against me. My hands slid over her hips, anchoring her against me.
“If I were sober,” I murmured into her ear, “I’d have you against this wall. My mouth would be on your thighs, and I wouldn’t stop until you begged me not to.”
I moved my hands up her sides, brushing her water hair to the side.
“I’d hold you open,” I grazed her jaw with my teeth. “Make you look at me while I ruined you.”
She was breathless now. Her head tilted back. I really loved that. Her throat arched.
“Then I’d fuck you slow,” I dragged my mouth along her throat. “Slow and deep, until you forgot your name.”
Her fingers dug into my arms.
“I’d make you come so many times you’d cry. And I wouldn’t stop. Not until you begged me to.”
“You’re not helping,” she whispered, voice cracking.
“You asked.”
Her hand wrapped around the back of my neck. “I still want to hear it.”
“Baby…” I groaned, tightening my grip on her hips. “I’m trying to be a good man right now.”
“I don’t need good. I needyou.”
Her lips brushed mine, and I could’ve lost it then and there, but I held back. Barely. Because I wasn’t going to fuck her for the first time hungover, not like this. She deserved more than that. So I kissed her instead. Deep. With everything I couldn’t say. And when we broke apart, I pressed my forehead to hers.
Color rushed to her cheeks. “I need to wash your hair,” she deflected.
“Baby,” I murmured, “you’ve been staring at my dick like it’s going to speak.”
She groaned softly and covered her face. “Don’t make this weirder.”
“I’m not. I’m telling you the truth.” I leaned back against the tile, hand gripping the edge of the bench. “That’s just from talking. From you. From the way you say my name like it’s soft.”
Her eyes dipped again. I didn’t move. Just let the water hit my shoulders as she stood there trying to work up the nerve.
“If you want me to touch my cock,” I said quietly, “say so.”
She looked horrified. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
I laughed under my breath. “Angel, I’m already uncomfortable. It hurts.”
That got her. Her lips parted in a soft breath. She stepped closer, gaze trained on my chest now like she was avoiding the inevitable. I reached down and wrapped my hand around my dick, slow, not to push her, but to show her.
“Sweetheart, I’m not going to laugh,”
Madeline’s eyes lifted to mine and for a second, she looked so unsure, so fucking pure, I couldn’t believe she was real.
“Last time in the bath. It seemed rude to stare. So, um I didn’t. Please don’t make fun of me.”
“I love that,” And I meant it. I really fucking did. I wrapped my hand around my dick. Because this girl, the one who could shut down a table of heirs with a smile, was standing here with flushed cheeks, afraid she might get in trouble for staring at my dick.
And it made me want her even more.
I moved my hand slowly, holding her eyes as I did. “If you want to watch, you can. If you want to touch, you can do that too.”
She bit her bottom lip before she reached for me. Her fingers were light. Barely touching, like she was afraid of hurting me. I moved my hand over hers. She gasped but didn’t pull back.
