I hastily step away and press my back against the shower wall.My cock juts out so eager and proud it pulls the soaked fabric of my boxer briefs away from my stomach.
Again.
“Goddamn it, I’m going to come again.You’re so fucking sexy, sweet pea,” I groan.
She absently adjusts her belly button ring.
I drop to my knees, my lower legs taking up half the shower space, and curl my fingers around her hips.Her breasts wobble with her rapid breathing.
“You’re perfect, Penelope,” I whisper.
She chews on her lip ring and shakes her head.
“Yes, you are.Let me show you.”
I pull her closer, span my hands over her back to hold her right where I want her, and nuzzle her cleavage.She shudders when I flick my tongue over the jewel on her sternum.
“May I?”I beg.
She spears her fingers into my hair and pulls my head back to study my face.
“My scars don’t disgust you?”
“No, Penelope.I hate that you suffered so much, but your scars are part of you.They’re proof of your resilience.I wish I could take them away from you, and I hate myself for not rescuing you, but they could never disgust me.You’re beautiful, sweet pea.”
Tears glisten in her eyes.
I land a gentle kiss on her chin.The bruise looks so much worse from this angle.I can’t see it from my normal height.
After trailing my lips down the front of her throat, I explore her collarbone and the upper swell of her breasts with my tongue.She gasps as I fill my hands with her abundant mounds.
With every stroke of my tongue and brush of my lips, I worship and adore her.I trace every scar and nuzzle her glorious curves, displaying my love and devotion without words.
Every part of her is perfect.Her heavy breasts, the soft roundness of her belly, how her ass fills my hands; I take my time exploring her as I murmur praises and memorize every scar on her body.
Despite her peaked nipples and flushed chest, I leave her panties clinging to her sex as I remove her sweatpants.
With the water now too cool for her, she shivers and goosebumps pepper her flesh, so I reach behind her and turn off the shower.She pulls my hair, but I growl, push her against the wall, and pin her knee to her chest.
The impressions of her clit and labia piercings in the scrap of black lace prove too tempting.
I cover her sex with my mouth.She squeals and yanks my hair.I growl and devour her like a starving man.When the lace proves too restricting, I hook my finger into the edge and pull it aside.
I groan and dive in.
Her taste explodes on my tongue.Fireworks burst in my head.I lick, suck, swirl, and eat her out until she calls my name.
I dip my tongue under her clit piercing, licking her sensitive bundle of nerves directly, and enjoy her keening as her pussy clenches and her release coats my chin.
When she sobs and closes her fists in my hair, guilt spears through me.
I clean her as best I can, strip off her panties, towel dry her from top to bottom, smear the lotion from above her sink all over her body, dress her in what must be her favorite pajamas, if the faded design is anything to go by, and settle her on the beanbag before peeking into the hall.
She murmurs my name.I assure her I’m not leaving, grab the bag I stashed under the kitchen table the first day I was here, and shut and lock her door when I return.After changing into dry sweatpants, I lift her into my lap so the back of her head rests against my sternum, and wiggle down into her bean bag.
“I have something I want to show you before you go to sleep,” I murmur into her hair.
“Okay,” she sighs.
