After an experiment to see how long they could hold their breaths under the spray, she grabbed the soap and a purple cloth. She built up the lather and then she washed him. It was unreal to just feel her patiently, carefully wash him from his neck to his chest and back. Then she moved down, holding his cock with one hand and using her other hand to bathe him, only for this part the cloth magically vanished and it was skin on skin.
His moan echoed in the shower, and her laugh, as soft as her fingers, swirled around him in the wet. She didn’t miss anything, but it was hard to keep still as she left the lower middle section to concentrate on his legs.
He’d really liked that whole lower middle section.
He touched her wet hair as she knelt before him, then it dawned on him that he could do something wonderful for her. He grabbed the shampoo from her silver tray and poured some on his hands before he applied it to her hair.
Knowing how much he loved to be shampooed, he took his time. When she gave up caring if his feet were clean, he drew her up and around, so her back was to him. Since the top of her head reached his chin, it was easy to give her the spa treatment. Now it was her moans and his laughter, and it was all good.
When she was pretty much a damp rag in his arms, he got the spray nozzle and rinsed her so she wouldn’t get soap in her eyes. Then he went for the conditioner. Not for her hair so much as for its off-label use. He knew the stuff worked—gentle enough that it wouldn’t hurt her. His fingers went down to her pussy, where he took his sweet time getting her ready.
When the moans grew urgent and she had to hang on to him to keep upright, he tore open the condom and slipped it on. Damn thing. He wished he didn’t have to use it, but even so, it was more than he could have hoped for.
She kissed his chest and flicked his nipples with the point of her tongue while he adjusted the spray nozzle to hit the side of the shower, high up on the wall. Once his attention returned to her, he licked the moisture off her neck as he steered her toward the warm water spray.
Her gasp told him it was still cold for her up against the glass. Not that she seemed to mind. He took her hands in his, lifting them, pinning them up above her head.
Using his body as a chamois, he rubbed against her, teasing himself with intermittent brushes of his cock against her skin. He wanted this to last, but not enough to stop. She felt too amazing and, Christ, looking at her with the water running down her hair, her ragged breathing as he kept her arms still and high, he whispered, “This is going to be fast and hard. Later is for making love. Now, I want to be inside you so badly I can’t…”
It didn’t seem to matter that he couldn’t find the words.
Chapter 13
HER NOD WAS SO SMALL he might have missed it if he hadn’t been staring at her with every bit of his attention. Not at all sure what he’d have done if she objected, he cast that notion aside as he took her mouth in a kiss meant to show her just how serious he was.
Her tongue tangled with his as she tried to get the upper hand, but he was having none of that. He knew he was being selfish and didn’t give a damn. He’d held off for so long. Thinking about her, going to bed with only his slick hand for comfort.
He placed her hands together still against the wall. Holding on to them with one hand, he reached for his cock. It was raging hard and desperate to be in her.
Without hesitating, with no finesse, only need, he pushed inside her until he filled her completely. She cried out, then she kissed him with such ferocity he knew she wanted more.
Releasing her hands, he lifted her thighs. Gwen wrapped her legs around his hips, grabbed on to the top of the shower stall and squeezed his dick.
His head went back as he groaned at the sensation, but then there was no energy for anything but filling her, wishing he could disappear inside her, feel this forever.
With their grunts and groans echoing, each time he thrust into her the spray went everywhere. Her legs tightened, one hand went from the wall to his shoulder where she gripped him with bruising strength.
Too soon he started to tremble, to jerk in uneven spasms until he came with a roar in his ears and bright lights behind his lids. This was it, the perfect moment, and he strained and strained until there was nothing left. Even then, he didn’t want to move, but had to. There was no strength to hold her.
He let her down gently, moaning as he slipped out.
IT OCCURRED TO GWEN that they should leave the shower, but the task was too daunting. Her heart was pounding, her legs felt like rubber, and she never wanted to move from this spot, from this man.
“You okay?”
She nodded, trying to work up the energy to smile. Screw it. He’d have to take it on faith.
She’d never done it in a shower. Not like this, anyhow. It was just like one of her fantasies, the kind she’d never thought to ask a man to help her play out.
Holly was right. All she’d needed to do was stop thinking. Let herself be with him. He would continue to amaze and delight her, if she only let him.
He turned away after he got the soap, and she washed up a bit before aiming the water in his direction. Motivated, thinking about her bed with him in it, she got out of the shower to grab her towel. He was right behind, and they grinned at each other like kids as they dried off.
With his hair all spiked and his body so stunning it seemed unreal, he nodded toward the other room. They hung up their towels and headed over to the bed, him getting there first to toss pillows in the corner.
As she pulled down the bedding, she wondered what he saw when he looked at her. She knew it had to be pleasurable, but she wondered all the same. Did he see her the way she saw herself? Probably not. When she looked at his face, what she saw was filtered through her life experience, just as hers would be for him. Which confused her, given what his life experience had been. Whoops, that was enough thinking. She’d sworn off it, and she wasn’t going to spoil the night by using her pesky brain for anything more taxing than rudimentary speech.
He sighed as he got under the covers, adorably wiggling his feet as he yanked the comforter up his chest. She followed suit, grabbing a cold water on her way. “You want?”
“I think I’ll take that Heinie now,” he said.
When she stretched to get the bottle, he reached under the covers and pinched her butt.
“Hey!”
“I wasn’t talking about beer.”
“Oh, that is so lame.” She got him his beer, debated touching his chest with the icy bottle, but kindness prevailed. “I expect so much more from you, Mr. Bennet.”
“Do you? Bummer. And I was just gonna ask if any of the movies you had in mind were dirty.”
She opened her water, sighing as she sat back on the pillows he’d left. “Not a one.”
“Damn. So what are our options?”
She listed as many as her poor brain would give her, and he stopped her at Bull Durham.
“Really? Excellent. Don’t you just love his long-wet-kisses speech? And painting her toenails?”
He had his beer inches from his mouth. “I had no idea you were such a girl. I mean, come on. It’s a baseball movie. Yeah, Sarandon’s hot, but it’s about baseball. And just for the record, what’s with all the pillows? Don’t you have to take them off every single night, and put them all back every single day?”
“Pillows are what define a civilized society. That and the banishment of the designated hitter.”
“Wow,” he said, lowering his beer. “That was impressive. Pillows and baseball, together. It’s all starting to make sense.”
“Plebeian.