After all that had happened in the past day, he might have doubted he’d have the brass tacks to let this side of himself come forward, but he guessed this proved it wasn’t a switch he turned on and off. A Master’s desires rose up hard and strong in him, craving to be voiced. Refusing not to be.
His gaze locked with hers. “Take it all off,” he said. “I want you in the shower with me.”
The words made her get still all over, except for her lips, which parted, and her hazel eyes, which flashed with joy and hunger. She wanted that from him, too. Maybe she, too, had worried that things had changed. The way she trembled, the light in her eyes becoming a deep shine, told him she’d needed to hear that demand from him.
And seeing that nothing she’d done to care for him had diluted the Master-sub feeling between the two of them? That was something he’d needed, too.
She unhooked the bra, folded it onto the dress she’d left on the counter. Slipped out of the sneakers and panties. She looked so good to him. He repositioned his feet so his knees were spread. He was already reaching out to her as she eagerly crossed the bathroom and joined him in the shower.
He banded his arm around her waist, spread his hand out on her buttock as he brought her close. He nuzzled her small breasts, teasing one nipple with his lips before simply pressing his face there, feeling her hands rove over his shoulders as he held her tight.
“I love your shoulders,” she whispered in his hair. The spray of heated water mixed with her voice, matching the fluid rush of feeling through him.
“I love all of you,” he said. He was caressing her with his mouth, his hands, just needing to touch her everywhere. And that scent…he was never doing without it again.
At length, he made himself ease back, found the soap and handed it to her. “You deserve a clean guy.”
Smiling, she took the soap, turning it in her palms to create a lather. Then, with a flick of her lashes at him, she dropped to her knees. If she’d intended to incite a pure male groan of need, that gesture would have done it.
He’d installed a mirror on the back wall of the shower, a practical decision that helped him do skin checks while bathing. As a result, he now had another view he’d gladly exchange for the promise of heaven, because it was already here, kneeling before him.
She started with his feet. He watched her run her fingers over them, then up his calves, knees and thighs. When she soaped his genitals, his cock hardened in her hands, so she was thorough there. He tipped his head up to the spray, closed his eyes and let what she was doing spread out inside him in the places he could feel it.
Then she was moving again, standing between his legs, sliding her hands without hurry over his chest, upper arms. He took that time to put his mouth on her breasts again. A slow open-mouthed teasing with tongue and teeth, deep suckles that had her breath drawing in and her body leaning into the cradle of his. She circled her arms over his shoulders and back again, fingers digging into his hair.
She’d missed him, too. He could feel it in her hunger, every bit as strong as his.
He curled his arm around her, hand cupping her buttocks, kneading the soft flesh there as he suckled. When the soap dropped out of her hand, he smiled against her flesh. The soap swooped down toward the drain, stayed there.
He didn’t have the strength to have sex, do the things to keep himself hard, and then hold her on him, help her rise and fall in the way that would bring her to the peak he wanted to see. But the desire to do so would give him the incentive to get his ass back on track, get better sooner than later.
In the meantime, there was a reason why God had given him ten very clever fingers. And an active imagination.
“Get the soap,” he said.
The drain was behind his shower chair, so she had to lean around him and down, past his arm. When she did, he shifted his grip to keep her there, hold her over his thigh as he did a more thorough exploration of her backside. He wet his fingers in