loofah and a bar of soap that smelled like oranges. He leaned back, settling against the end of the tub, and I went with him, sinking deeper into the water.
My eyes drooped. The warm water, and Diesel's presence, made my body lax—boneless.
Diesel worked the soap against the loofah, rubbing up a thick lather. He spread the white foam up my left arm, working the loofah between my fingers and moving up to my armpit.
I laughed, wiggling to get away.
I froze at Diesel's sharp growl.
"I'm sorry, baby boy. I tickled you and made you laugh, but if you don't stop wiggling, I'm not going to be able to keep this nice for you."
It was then that I noticed, while my body relaxed into goo, his was tight. I didn't need it nice or kind. I just needed to finally discover what it felt like to hang off his dick like a flag on a flagpole.
"When did you get such a dirty mind, baby?" Diesel sounded more impressed than judging.
Clearly, I'd spoken my thoughts again. My cheek pressed against his chest. "I've always had it. Why do you think we got along so well?"
We both knew that wasn't entirely true. In my early years, I'd been a model student, son, and pack member. It wasn't until I hit puberty and my loins called for one man that I started misbehaving and letting my mind run wild with possibilities. One thing not having sex with the man of your dreams gave you was a lot of really horny hours imagining what you would do if you ever had sex with the man of your dreams.
"I assumed it was because you're mine."
I elbowed him, but there was no fire in it. My elbow just slid over his wet, soapy skin.
Diesel continued washing me, bringing the loofah over every inch of my skin, no matter how personal or private. When he lifted me and set the loofah on a course for my butt crack, I wiggled and yelped.
"Hey! Personal spaces!"
Diesel growled, and if I didn't know for a fact this man would never hurt me, I'd have been afraid of the dark sound. "All your spaces are mine."
I really shouldn't let that possessive behavior continue, but who the heck was I kidding? All of Diesel's places were mine too, personal or not. "Okay, but are you going to start doing anything to me? This is a real great bath and all." I rotated my hips down against his erection. Though wiggling had been my idea, I gasped from the thrill skittering up my spine as the move brought Diesel's length prodding against my rim.
"Sit still, baby boy." Like before, his whisper was as much a warning as a command. "I'm going to stretch this sweet hole open." He jerked his hips ever so slightly, enough to elicit another gasp. "But first I want you clean. Both of us. I don't want anything in our room except the smell and taste of you and me. Understand?"
Yes, but only barely. I understood him wanting to rinse away the world, but not how he was able to continue hesitating despite the fact I was there, wanting and so very willing. I'd built up this moment so much in my head. There wasn't a chance it would live up to my expectations, but I didn't care. I remained as patiently as I could, letting Diesel manhandle my arms and legs, turning me over so he could do a thorough cleaning of my backside that left me moaning and needy.
When Diesel finally bent forward to pull the plug, I leaped from the tub, surprising him with my speed, agility, and overall slipperiness. He stood, sending rivers of water down his muscular thighs. His cock jutted out from his body, as proud and bigheaded as the alpha.
With eyes like saucers, I stared at my mate—my Diesel. I'd always known he packed heat, but had never gotten a clear look at the weapon of mass destruction he carried in his pants. A thing of beauty, the seventh, eighth, and ninth wonder of the world. I didn't know how I wasn't already pregnant just from having stood near that for so long.
And it was all mine.
My hand whipped forward of its own volition, taking a firm hold of Diesel's erection and tugging, not like I would for a handjob, but to pull him from the tub and back into the room to the bed.
Diesel grinned, yanking out of my grip before we reached