get my head together enough to start touching him, which was even more delicious when he was slippery with soap and the steamy confines of the shower made everything close and intense. Henry growled as my fingers worked over his shoulders and chest and down his abs, and my hand found the heavy heat of his cock where it pressed against my stomach. I stroked him slowly, watching Henry’s face, and loved the way the muscles in his jaw jumped and the tendons stood out in his throat as he struggled to stay still.
I wanted to torment him just a little, just to see how far I could push his control, and let the water run all the soap off him before I bent to swipe my tongue over the head of his cock. Henry groaned in a guttural tone that made my insides clench. I smiled to myself and eased down to my knees so I wouldn’t throw out my back by leaning over him. That wasn’t sexy at all, not in a slippery shower.
Henry braced a hand on each end of the shower, his head tilted back into the spray of the showerhead. “Babe, you don’t have to...”
“I want to,” I murmured, taking him in hand once more. I loved watching him, seeing the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed, watching his abs tighten and jump as my hand pumped along his length. It was like holding steel covered in velvet, and every inch of it was mine to explore, to taste.
I took my time, enjoying every moment, and slowly sealed my lips around the head of his cock. He was too big to take all of his length, but I did my best to swallow enough that Henry groaned and one hand gently rested on my head. He panted and adjusted his stance. I moved a little slower, though I tightened my grip and dragged my palm along his cock. I sucked the head and teased all up and down his length, running my nails down his thighs and abs occasionally, and as his hips started to move in short jerks against my hand, Henry muttered, “One-twelve.”
I cracked an eye open to check his expression. What the hell did “one-twelve” mean?
A more successful attempt at swallowing his length drew another guttural groan, following quickly by a murmured, “One-nineteen. One-twenty-six. One-thirty-three. Oh God.”
I licked around the crown, then retreated so I could ask, “Are you… What are you doing?”
His fingers worked into my hair and encouraged me to continue the torment. “Counting…by…sevens. Trying to make it last. Isn’t…working.”
I wanted to laugh but didn’t have breath or much concentration left, and instead did my best to interrupt his counting completely. Henry groaned and cursed and his hips jerked as he kept trying to count and still pull me closer at the same time. My hand slid down between my thighs as my own need rose up again. Something about having him right there in my hands, at my mercy...
My thighs clenched together and I moaned a little myself. It pushed Henry over the edge. He glanced down at what I was doing, cursed in a reverent kind of voice, and groaned as his head tilted back. I pulled away just before he spent and maneuvered to my feet. I grabbed his hand and put it exactly where I wanted to feel his strong fingers, and kept stroking his cock as his hips pumped. He growled and abruptly pinned me against the cool tile wall, his forehead against mine as he jerked and came all over my stomach and his fingers surged between my thighs. I went up on my toes and cried out as another climax crept up on me, unleashed by the rough pad of his thumb.
We both quaked and panted as the shower spray started to cool, unable to move. I didn’t think my knees would have held me if not for his weight keeping me upright. I closed my eyes and listened to his heart pound. My fingers trailed up the back of his neck as Henry grumbled and turned off the shower, though he didn’t seem inclined to move. I kissed his shoulder, loving the heat of his skin against mine. “Where’d you lose count?”
“Can’t even remember,” he said.
I smiled. “Guess you’ll have to start over?”
He laughed and grabbed a towel to wrap me up. “Oh, I’m just getting started, witch. You took your nap this afternoon, so I fully expect to keep you