“Fuck, that’s it,” he groaned, his strokes on his cock turning punishing. He gripped himself tighter, and it was all I could do to stave off the edge clawing its way through me. The heat of the water and the slick glide of my hand was torture, sweet and brutal. “Grind harder, Isi. Feel it build, let it coil tight inside you. Whimper for me again. Let me hear how close you are.”
I released a string of soft, desperate cries as I rocked with abandon, my fingers plunging deep, my palm rubbing circles over my clit while my other hand kneaded and pinched my nipple, rolling it until it turned red and swollen. My body shook with the effort of holding back, my thighs trembling around his.
“I’ve thought about this from the first moment I saw you,” he growled.
“Same.” I kept my gaze fused to his, every grind of my hips a silent plea for more.
His gaze darkened.
“Enough, woman.” His voice scraped like gravel over stone.
He circled my wrist, urging my fingers away from my slick heat. I gasped at the loss, my body clenching on nothing. But he was therein an instant, replacing my touch with his own, driving one finger inside me. Two. Then three, stretching me with a wild thrust that made me cry out, my walls clamping down hard.
I was so ready, the water doing nothing to dilute my arousal as he plunged his digits deep, hitting a spot that made me jolt. While I ground against him, completely abandoned, he pumped them in and out, running rough circles over my clit with his thumb, matching the rhythm of his other hand on his cock. He stroked faster, and the ache inside me was a roaring fire I could barely contain.
“Look what you do to me,” he rasped. “Look. Only you, Minx.Onlyyou.”
I gazed down at his cock with a sly smile. “Only fair, Trew. Only fair.”
“You’re going to take my cock so well, little minx.”
As he continued to plunge his fingers inside me, I let my head fall back. A guttural moan tore from my throat, my hands working my nipples in frantic pinches.
He leaned in close, breathing hot against my skin by my ear. “Come. Now. For me.”
I shattered, my body convulsing around his fingers in shuddering waves, my inner muscles milking him with fierce, rhythmic pulses that nearly dragged me under. A raw, keening cry ripped from my throat as I bucked my hips against his hand, water surging over the tub’s rim in frantic splashes. I clawed at his back as my entire frame trembled, lost in the storm of release that he’d commanded.
“Amarissa.” His own orgasm crashed through him, his cock jerking in his fist as he shot into the churning water, spilling out in hot pulses that left him groaning.
We collapsed together in the water, my body slumping against his, boneless and spent, pressing my cheek against his heaving chest. He kept his fingers buried inside me as aftershocks rippled through my core, those sweet, fluttering clenches that drew out soft whimpers from deep inside me. I trembled in his arms, my breaths coming in fast, ragged bursts that matched the thundering of his heart.He held me, stroking gently, easing me down from the heights until my body finally stilled, the tension melting away like mist in the sun.
Only then did he slip his fingers free and kiss my temple.
“I’ve got you, Minx,” he said.
This was what love looked like. It wasn’t only fire and passion, but this gentle time that came afterward.
He reached for the soap again, lathering it between his palms before gently washing me, trailing suds over my shoulders, down my arms, across the swell of my aching breasts. Even between my legs, rinsing away what was left of our passion with slow sweeps of his hands. I sighed, my eyes half-closed, letting him care for me while tracing lazy patterns with my fingertips on his skin.
After, he gathered me up, water cascading off us as he stood and carried me from the tub. He set me on the thick woven rug, grabbing a plush towel to pat me dry, starting with my legs and working up, lingering on the curves. I watched him with a soft, sated smile.
He snatched a tunic from the hook, the softest one, worn thin from years of use, the fabric like a whisper against skin, and tugged it over my head, guiding my limp arms through the sleeves one by one. I stared up at him, slightly stunned, a half-smile curving my mouth, my body humming with remembered pleasure.
“There,” he said after. “It looks better on you anyway.”
“It’s mine now.”
“It is.”
He grabbed another towel, carefully drying my hair, squeezing out the water before running his fingers through the damp strands. I leaned into him as he combed and braided it from the crown of my head to the tip low on my back. Every twist felt like a promise, binding us a little tighter.
Turning me, he cupped my cheeks, tipping my head back to meet his gaze.
“Will you spend the day with me?” he asked.
“Doing what?”
“I’ll show you.”
