‘It’s a no-brainer. You get full-time protection and I get plenty of sex.’
I lift my chin. ‘Who says?’
He starts to drop tiny kisses all over my face, deft little touches of his lips that lure me into a long, sensuous sigh long before I ought to give him permission.
His scowl is so like his brother’s I have to smile.
He glares back. ‘You do. All the time. Every time you look at me, every time you move. When you’re around I can’t think of anything else. When you’re not around I can’t think of anything else. Anyway, it’s easier to look after you if I know where you are twenty-four-seven. Saves on food. Saves on electricity. Better for the environment. Healthier all round. Now get in the damn bath.’
My bath is hot in every sense. He leans over me, washing me with gel-smeared hands, making me kneel up, bend over, lean back so his fingers can reach into every cranny and hidden crevice of my tired, aching body. His touch is so soothing and at the same time so infuriatingly arousing that I’m aching for him when I finally rise to my feet, suds running off me in rills. Before reaching for the towel he runs his thumbs down over my breasts, my thighs and my belly to skim off the water.
When I step out he places my hands gently on his flies. I bite my lip in excitement as I learn my bath requires a small token of thanks – and quickly I free him and kneel to bestow it. But first his hand knits deep into my wet, tangled hair and pulls my head back out of reach of his surging, twitching manhood, looming before me, eager for my mouth.
‘You want this, Ella?’
I lower my eyelids, impatient now. ‘You want it in writing?’
His eyes flicker. ‘I just want to be sure. I’ve no right to force you. You’ve had a shock.’
I smile and kiss his crown with a light, reverent touch of my lips. The skin feels taut and smooth. I feel a tingle of sparkling lust in my eager mouth. At the same time I sense an answering twitch in his jutting shaft.
Above me he looks stern. ‘Do I take that as a yes?’
In answer I simply take him in my mouth and fold my lips around him with a surge of heat that flies straight to my groin. What my busy tongue and lips are trying to tell him is that I love him, I love nothing better than the chance to please him and I’m glad of my rescue.
What they also conveniently spare me from saying is that I’m scared now. Something terrible happened to him today and I’m somehow responsible. And if there’s any way I can make things better I’ll do it.
Starting now.
After a while he eases me away from his hot, pulsing column, glossy now with my saliva. I can see it’s an effort. His breathing is heavy, like he’s running a race. In a way maybe he is: a race to hold off his pleasure for long enough for me to join in.
I grin, ridiculously pleased that for once I’m calling the shots as he swathes me in a large, fluffy towel, hot from the rail. Bundled up like a wiener I’m still grinning as he carries me into the bedroom and dumps me on the bed, then joins me with a low growl and stretches out lazily beside me.
He unrolls me slowly, mussing my hair with one corner of the towel to dry it before sweeping it back from my face to fasten his mouth on mine. His kiss tells me not that I’m forgiven, exactly, but that in some respects things between us cannot change. Not just yet, anyway.
He wants me and needs me and he wants me and needs me
now.
His erection juts painfully against my thigh as he shifts position. For now he ignores it, clearly amused by my impatient, straying fingers. ‘We’ll eat soon. You understand we have a date later this evening?’
I smile up at him, relaxed and content, awash with relief that we’re still speaking and I’m not yet dead. ‘What kind of date?’
With a meaningful smile he reaches across the bed to the side table and slides open a silent drawer.
All at once I hear a clink. I stiffen as my mouth goes dry.
‘
This
kind of
I lift my chin. ‘Who says?’
He starts to drop tiny kisses all over my face, deft little touches of his lips that lure me into a long, sensuous sigh long before I ought to give him permission.
His scowl is so like his brother’s I have to smile.
He glares back. ‘You do. All the time. Every time you look at me, every time you move. When you’re around I can’t think of anything else. When you’re not around I can’t think of anything else. Anyway, it’s easier to look after you if I know where you are twenty-four-seven. Saves on food. Saves on electricity. Better for the environment. Healthier all round. Now get in the damn bath.’
My bath is hot in every sense. He leans over me, washing me with gel-smeared hands, making me kneel up, bend over, lean back so his fingers can reach into every cranny and hidden crevice of my tired, aching body. His touch is so soothing and at the same time so infuriatingly arousing that I’m aching for him when I finally rise to my feet, suds running off me in rills. Before reaching for the towel he runs his thumbs down over my breasts, my thighs and my belly to skim off the water.
When I step out he places my hands gently on his flies. I bite my lip in excitement as I learn my bath requires a small token of thanks – and quickly I free him and kneel to bestow it. But first his hand knits deep into my wet, tangled hair and pulls my head back out of reach of his surging, twitching manhood, looming before me, eager for my mouth.
‘You want this, Ella?’
I lower my eyelids, impatient now. ‘You want it in writing?’
His eyes flicker. ‘I just want to be sure. I’ve no right to force you. You’ve had a shock.’
I smile and kiss his crown with a light, reverent touch of my lips. The skin feels taut and smooth. I feel a tingle of sparkling lust in my eager mouth. At the same time I sense an answering twitch in his jutting shaft.
Above me he looks stern. ‘Do I take that as a yes?’
In answer I simply take him in my mouth and fold my lips around him with a surge of heat that flies straight to my groin. What my busy tongue and lips are trying to tell him is that I love him, I love nothing better than the chance to please him and I’m glad of my rescue.
What they also conveniently spare me from saying is that I’m scared now. Something terrible happened to him today and I’m somehow responsible. And if there’s any way I can make things better I’ll do it.
Starting now.
After a while he eases me away from his hot, pulsing column, glossy now with my saliva. I can see it’s an effort. His breathing is heavy, like he’s running a race. In a way maybe he is: a race to hold off his pleasure for long enough for me to join in.
I grin, ridiculously pleased that for once I’m calling the shots as he swathes me in a large, fluffy towel, hot from the rail. Bundled up like a wiener I’m still grinning as he carries me into the bedroom and dumps me on the bed, then joins me with a low growl and stretches out lazily beside me.
He unrolls me slowly, mussing my hair with one corner of the towel to dry it before sweeping it back from my face to fasten his mouth on mine. His kiss tells me not that I’m forgiven, exactly, but that in some respects things between us cannot change. Not just yet, anyway.
He wants me and needs me and he wants me and needs me
now.
His erection juts painfully against my thigh as he shifts position. For now he ignores it, clearly amused by my impatient, straying fingers. ‘We’ll eat soon. You understand we have a date later this evening?’
I smile up at him, relaxed and content, awash with relief that we’re still speaking and I’m not yet dead. ‘What kind of date?’
With a meaningful smile he reaches across the bed to the side table and slides open a silent drawer.
All at once I hear a clink. I stiffen as my mouth goes dry.
‘
This
kind of
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