Page 69 of Down and Dirty

He opened the wine, poured some into the two glasses, and set them on a low stool near the tub. Then he shucked his briefs, dimmed the lights, and eased himself into the tub behind Britta. “Move forward, honey,” he said, even as he extended his legs on either side of her hips.

“Nay. Desist, you maggot! Ahhhhh, nay, not Sister Efreda, and Sister Seraphina and…! You beasts! Such rape and carnage!” Water was splashing all over the place, against the wall, on the floor, in both their faces.

Britta had come awake, startled and disoriented in the tight grasp of his arms. She must have thought she was back in her country and time, not a pleasant place to be.

“Shhh, it’s okay.”

Once she settled down, he loosened his hold on her, and she turned slightly to peer at him over her shoulder. “What… where?”

“You fell asleep in the tub.”

“Oh.” She still frowned. “I had a horrific dream. But it was not really a dream. More like I was floating between two worlds. Being tugged in different directions. I was back at the nunnery, where my father’s hird of soldiers were—”

“Shhh, it’s okay now.” He kissed her lightly on the lips.

Her eyes widened then. “What are you doing in this tub?”

“Joining you?”

“Why?”

He laughed and reached for the two glasses, handing her one. “Drink. It’ll relax you and make the bad dreams go away.”

She took several sips, sighed, then leaned back against his chest, seemingly unaware of his erection prodding at her butt and his one hand pressed against her belly.

He used his big toe to turn the hot water on to a slow trickle. Any excess would go out the top drain, thus preventing an overflow. They were swathed in steam and bubbles and a slow-building sexual lethargy that would soon turn to sexual frenzy. He hoped. He was already halfway there.

When she emptied her wineglass, he poured them both another.

“Methinks this wine is more potent than Sister Margaret’s mead,” she murmured. “It makes me feel strange. As if parts of me are melting away.”

“Your inhibitions?”

She made a small snorting sound. “Pfff! My inhibitions were lost with you on our first meeting.”

“I had you on hello, huh? Too bad I didn’t know that you trying to lop off my head was a form of foreplay.”

She slapped at his hand, the hand that was fondling her nipples. Setting his wineglass down, he continued to use his left hand to tease her nipples, first one, then the other. At the same time, he burrowed the fingers of his right hand into her hair on the one side, turning her into his kiss, which was wide-mouthed and hungry. He took her whole mouth in his, over and over, as if he were eating her whole with his lips. Then he used his lips to widen hers as far as they would go before tonguing her inside… up, down, around the roof and over her inner jaw. His never-ending wet kiss allowed her no opportunity to reciprocate. He was bruising, demanding, devouring in his intensity.

When she moaned into his mouth, he slowed down.

She moved her hips on him, and he realized that his erection was no longer prodding her butt. She was sitting on him, perfectly aligning his hard-on with her crack, back to front.

“I have an idea,” he whispered into her ear.

“More ideas? How many more ideas can one man have?” Her voice was thick and sultry, and he didn’t think it was because of the wine.

“Thousands,” he answered.

Raising them both up on their knees, he said, “Hold on to the two faucets with your hands, and brace your arms.”

“Whaaat?”

Before she could guess what he was about, he entered her from behind and rose in one smooth sweep till he was standing. The only thing keeping her from falling into the water was her hands on the faucets and his hands on her hips.

She squealed and tried to flail her legs to dislodge him. “Are you barmy? Upside down swiving? Surely sane people do not do this.”

“Oh, yeah, they do. This is one of women’s favorite positions. Besides, you aren’t really upside down. You’re more like on an incline. Yeah, I like the sound of that. Inclined sex.”