He reaches for his body wash, lathering his hands. Then he starts at my shoulders, working the soap across my skin with strong, sure strokes.
It's not sexual. Not yet.
His hands move down my arms, across my collarbone, then lower.
When he cups my breasts, I gasp.
"Sensitive?" he asks.
"Yes."
"Good. I like knowing what makes you react." His thumbs brush over my nipples, and they peak immediately. "So responsive for me."
"Daddy—"
"Shh. Let me take care of you."
His soapy hands move down my stomach, over my hips.
"Turn around. Face the wall."
I obey, and his hands slide down my back, massaging as he goes.
"You're tense here." He works at a knot in my shoulder. "Relax for me, baby girl."
His hands continue their journey, over my ass, down my thighs.
"Spread your legs a little."
My breath catches, but I comply.
His hands move between my thighs, washing carefully. Thoroughly. My breath catches as he runs the cloth over my clit.
"So pretty everywhere," he murmurs. "Perfect for me."
One finger slides through my folds, not penetrating, just exploring.
"Already wet. And I haven't even touched you properly yet."
"Please—"
"Please what? Use your words."
"Touch me."
"Like this?" One finger circles my clit slowly.
"Yes. More."
"Greedy girl." But his touch becomes more purposeful. Circling with just the right pressure. "Turn around. I want to see your face."
I turn, and his free hand braces against the tile beside my head.
"Look at me. I want to see your eyes when you come."
His finger continues its torturous circles while his eyes hold mine.
"That's it. Let me see it. Let Daddy see how good he makes you feel."
