I jump inside the shower, feeling too exposed standing outside its thin walls. There’s a brief cringe at the cool water but it soon warms, and I eagerly twist my back into the spray.
The washcloths inside the cabinet are white. They look completely untouched, like someone took them from a packet just this morning. For all I know, that’s exactly what they did. Nothing inside the apartment gives the slightest sign that Micah scrimps on anything.
Lacks judgement of what’s comfortable and what purely has aesthetic appeal, sure, but that’s not down to being stingy.
No matter the reason, I don’t want to stain anything else. Using a generous dollop of body wash, I scrub at my pubic hair using just my fingers, then slip inside my folds, easing out the remnants of blood.
The space between my legs feels mysteriously different. Not that I’ve had any reason to mount a dedicated exploration of the area before now but even so… aside from the tenderness it feels… accomplished? Like it’s just completed a gruelling workout and even through the sore muscles there’s the glow of achievement.
A stupid thought. Especially since all I did was lie there.
Relief then, maybe? Or pride.
Proud that he wanted me. For all the time I’ve spent with Gabriel, he’s always obeyed my father’s wishes. For me to remain pure. For him to restrict his behaviour when he’s around me.
I respected him for that but part of me always wondered. Why was it so easy for him to stop? Didn’t he want to take things further?
Sometimes, I left his company feeling hot and achy from wanting to touch him so badly, but I never felt the same sense of desire in return. Good-humoured banter about how difficult it was to wait, sure, but not the overwhelming drive to get lost in the moment, follow my instincts, and deal with the fallout later.
Nothing about Micah felt like he was holding back. When he dragged my jeans off it felt more like he’d tear through the walls to claim me. All the care he’d exhibited yesterday was gone. A good Samaritan outfit that he tore off to reveal the snarling beast inside.
Heat erupts between my legs and it’s nothing to do with the temperature of the shower. It spills upwards, defying gravity to set my lower belly alight with desire.
It would get better, that’s what he’d said. Would be better next time and keep increasing from there.
And I won’t be a stupid girl the next time he takes me into his bed. I can pay more attention, be aware of more in the moment. See what he likes at the same time as I find out more about how I react to his touch.
I step out of the shower, losing my shyness as I dry myself and stare at my naked body in the mirror. My hand trails over my breasts, tweaking at the nipples, wondering why my hand feels so different to Micah’s, not to mention his mouth.
Just thinking of the sensations as his rough tongue explored my tits makes both my nipples stiffen, despite the warm steam in the room.
The skin around my peaks is also glowing with colour, a reaction to his stubble. If it’s like this midmorning, it must feel like being buffed by sandpaper by the end of the day.
Micah walks inside and I take a second to admire his reflection in the mirror before turning. He comes over to me, clasping my face between his hands and tilting me back for a kiss. He’s so tall, he turns into a hunchback as his lips reach mine.
This differs from a few minutes ago. Different again from yesterday. I wonder how many versions of his kiss there are. How long it will take to run through every possible combination.
His tongue runs along my lip, breaking inside my mouth to tease at the tip of mine. The lick—just the gentlest, tiniest taste—sends a rush of heat straight from my mouth to my centre, lighting a trail of fire along the path in between.
My breath, already laboured, now feels like something I have to manually perform. The simplest inhalation a feat that it takes all my remaining concentration to action; yet there’s nothing left behind in my mind to fulfil the task. Too many of my brain cells are occupied: storing, cataloguing, recording in exquisite detail everything that’s happening.
“I don’t know,” he teases once he’s had his fill. “I leave you in here for ten minutes and you haven’t even set the bath running.”
“What a pity.” I stretch my arms around him, my fingers exploring the dips and creases of his lower back. “Now we’ll have to stand here naked for longer, waiting while it fills.”
He releases me despite my soft whimper of protest, and starts the water running, twiddling the half dozen controls mounted on the side of the tub to get it just how he likes it.
It gives me a wonderful view, one that’s taken away too quickly when he turns back to me. His cock lengthens as my gaze fixes on it, helpless to look at anything else on display. When he crosses back to me, it hardens against my hip while he wraps me in his arms.
“What are you looking at?”
I duck my head to get another view, this time obstructed as he bends against me. “Oh, nothing much of interest. Just taking a peek at something I haven’t seen before and wondering what it feels like to touch it.”
“You don’t have to stand there, wondering, you know.” Micah arches an eyebrow as he stares down into my face. “You could always let your hands go wandering and find out for themselves.”
I let my hand rest against his hips for a second before easing it around the front of his body. “Isn’t it sensitive? I don’t want to hurt you.”
He gives a gruff laugh against my ear. “I promise I’ll tell you if you’re hurting me. Unless you’re planning on digging in your nails, I’m sure it’ll survive.”
