Rucking her shirt up her sides, I take my mouth off hers to tell her, “I don’t think these stains are coming out.”
“It’s just a shirt,” she says, leaning in to keep kissing me.
After a few more moments, I urge her back so I can pull the shirt over her head and toss it to the floor. She’s wearing a lilac-colored bra with scalloped lacing along the top of the cups. I run my tongue over the lace on one of them, while my hand cups her other breast, my thumb seeking out her nipple through the thin material.
“Take it off,” she says, almost a whisper. “Please.”
The grin I give her is practically feral. “Well, since you asked nicely.”
I slide the straps off each shoulder, then unclasp the bra, guiding it the rest of the way off her. She doesn’t shy away from me looking at her body. And in fact, as my gaze trails downward, she boldly pops the button on her shorts free.
“Yes, take them off,” I encourage. “Get naked for me.”
She listens, swaying her hips seductively from side to side as she tugs the shorts down over them. That move was surely unnecessary but entirely appreciated. When the shorts land on the floor, she steps out of them, kicking them away and leaving herself in only a lacy lilac thong that matches her bra.
Her hair is still secured in the ponytail, though we’ve messed it up pretty good by now. It shouldn’t be as sexy as it is watching her reach up to pull the white scrunchie free, but as she shakes out her long hair, I suck in a sharp breath, the desire building in my gut.
“Your turn,” she says.
The temperature in this small space has ratcheted up, and I don’t think it’s entirely due to the hot water running. I can feel the heat of her blue eyes on me as I strip out of my clothes.
Once I’m rid of everything, I sink to my knees on the plush mat and tuck my fingers under the waistband of her underwear. I slowly slide the skimpy thing all the way down her legs, then run my palms up her calves and the backs of her thighs until I’ve got her ass in my hands.
Her pussy is right in my face, smooth shaven and begging for myattention, but I resist. Instead, I press my lips to her left hipbone, then right beside her belly button. I keep my grip on her ass as I get to my feet, kissing my way up her stomach and chest until I can reach her mouth. I take her lips one more time, then pull away and instruct her to get in the shower.
As she turns to do as I say, I give her ass a slap. She lets out a cute little squeak and looks at me over her shoulder. “That was rude,” she says. But her smile very much says otherwise.
I grab a washcloth before I step into the shower behind her. She moves right under the water, tilting her head back to wet her hair while I squeeze some of my vanilla body wash into the cloth and lather it up. When she moves in closer to me, I begin running the cloth gently over her body. She smiles as the scent of vanilla fills the small space. This time she’s going to smell like me, and that thought sparks something possessive inside me.
She may not be mine to keep. But it seems like she’s chosen to be mine for right now, so I’m damn sure going to appreciate it. And I’ll make sure she does too.
I catch her staring at my chest as I wash her, and I raise an eyebrow. “See something you like?”
“Your nipples are pierced.”
“They are,” I say with a laugh.
“Did it hurt?” she asks.
I shrug. “Certainly didn’t feel good when they stabbed a needle through them.”
“But it feels good now? Like when you touch them?”
“Mmhmm. It does.”
“Can I...” A flash of uncertainty crosses her face as she lets her request trail off. But her eyes are still zeroed in on the tiny silver hoops pierced through my nipples.
“You can touch me,” I tell her.
That doesn’t mean I’ll stop touching her, though. At this point, it feelslike I might drown if I let go of her. When she reaches out and tentatively brushes her thumb over my nipple, I shiver at the contact, but I stay focused on my task. I carefully wash the smeared flower off her cheek, then I keep caressing the rest of her body with the washcloth, cleaning away the last remnants of the pie filling that painted her perfect skin blue. For every part of her I’ve made clean, I follow up with guiding my bare hand along her wet curves, wanting to take care of her and make her feel good at the same time.
Then she gives the hoop in one of my nipples a light tug, and I moan, unable to resist arching into it. Deciding she’s clean enough, I drop the washcloth and pull her into me. I kiss her as she plays with my nipples, giving them both equal attention. Her exploration started out tentative, but she seems to be quickly growing in confidence.
“Is this okay?” she asks, her lips ghosting across my own. She’s clinging to my shoulder with one hand while still using her other to squeeze and flick and tease.
“Yes, you’re doing so good, sweetheart.”
She lets out a breathless little sound, somewhere between a sigh and a moan, and I kiss her hungrily, wanting to eat it up. I want all of her beautiful, pleasured sounds. I want to be the one pulling them from her lips.
