I picture him standing in front of me and running those hands all over me, checking my bruises and scrapes and kissing each one until my skin tingles from the rough scrape of his beard.
Falco would be my first.
He’s old enough that he would know how to take his time, how to blow my mind.
If his cock is anything like the rest of his build, then I bet I wouldn’t be able to walk for weeks.
It starts as an attempt to soothe the growing ache between my legs and force Falco to leave the bathroom.
After all, there’s no way he’d stay there knowing I’m masturbating right behind him.
That surely breaks so many of my father’s rules.
My fingers slide down my wet stomach and slide between my legs to my damp pussy where slick mingles with the water cascading down over me.
I whimper softly, easing my fingers between my outer lips and stroking over my inner folds while rubbing the heel of my hand down against my clit.
Another whimper escapes me and it melts into a moan as pleasure, distant and warm, begins to pool in my lower belly.
By the time my legs give way and I sag back against the tiles, propped up on the edge of the bath, my heart’s racing and the pleasure building between my legs is growing.
I don’t hold back on my sounds either, especially when my fingers slide inside myself like they’ve done countless times in the past.
Droplets of water roll over my hard nipples, teasing them with contact, and every touch of water from the shower is a caress from Falco in my mind.
Delving my fingers deeper, I try to picture what it would be like to feel his cock inside me instead. It’s bound to be thicker than my fingers.
Longer too.
Chasing that fantasy only gets me so far.
Something isn’t quite right.
It could be the shower or the unfamiliar room, or the fact that tonight has been a complete mess and now I’m fingering myself to try and assert dominance over my sexy bodyguard who won’t even look at me like I’m a person.
It’s not enough.
My fingers aren’t enough.
My hand isn’t enough.
Frustration begins to replace desire in my chest and the budding pleasure in my gut is seconds away from fading.
It’s taking too long.
Then, suddenly, the shower water fades from my skin and a subtle chill steals across my chest.
Opening my eyes, I’m face to face with Falco.
His hair is drenched in seconds and becomes like jet-black ink clinging to the sides of his face.
What light is left in the bathroom settles in the golden pools of his eyes and the silver streaks in his stubble seem to melt away as he gets completely drenched.
In seconds, his shirt is clinging to his body like a second skin and I glimpse every sexy, sculpted inch of his torso.
“You’re doing it wrong,” Falco says in a low voice. “Let me help.”
I’m frozen, my breath caught at the back of my tongue like his words have wrapped around my throat to gently hold me in place.
