announcing itself, he turned her around. Put her needs first.
He enjoyed gliding the soft sponge over her skin, lifting her arms to wash under her tantalizing breasts. Moving lower, he found every curve and hidden space during his immensely satisfying but painfully arousing task. Caring for her in this way pleased him.
She grabbed his shoulder with her hand and balanced while he washed behind her knees, planting a kiss on her thigh.
“Finn, I can’t take this much longer.” She looked down, her cheeks flushed. This was ridiculous after all they’d done, all he’d seen of her body, all the places he’d kissed. Licked. Embarrassment shouldn’t bombard her, but there it was. “Please make me come.”
Please and thank you. Her sweetness shot through him, challenging every ounce of control he had. He looked up. “I can do that.” He eased the sponge between her legs as he washed gently there, kissing the inside of her thigh.
Amy gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulder. “You are so good.” She panted as he rubbed the sponge over her sex in a gentle rhythm.
“Now I’ll get you to the good part.” He dropped the sponge and parted her thighs, replacing the sponge with his tongue.
She was slick and hot. The lukewarm water ran down her body. He lapped at her nub until she cried out. He didn’t stop until she sighed his name. Again and again. When her knees trembled, he stood and pulled her into his arms. He was harder than steel but didn’t care. His baby came, and he rocked her back and forth as she relaxed against him.
They definitely had something.
“Let’s make breakfast.” He stepped out of the shower and assisted her out as well.
She handed him a towel. “I’ll head to the kitchen and make breakfast.
“Great. Be there in a minute.” After she left the bathroom, he dropped the towel and headed back into the shower. He put a hand on the tiled wall and jerked fast. The last time he masturbated with this intensity was at sixteen after coming across Papa’s Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue.
Ten minutes later, fully dressed and standing in her kitchen door jamb, Finn said, “Sausage smells amazing.”
“Bangers. That’s what my grandparents call them.”
“I like the term.”
Amy set the sausages alongside plates with eggs, baked beans, a grilled tomato and toast. “UK style.” She poured coffee into mugs.
“Quite a treat.” His stare bypassed her eyes and landed on her braided, silken hair, ample breasts, and shapely legs in leggings and shorts. As treats went, breakfast would take second place to all the banging they’d done.
“Do you like my shorts?” She pointed to her waistband. “This little pocket holds a Swiss Army Knife.”
“That’s damn clever,” he said and attempted to look attentive. “Pretty shorts.”
“The material goes well with my hair.”
“A nice match,” he said.
“You’re hopeless, Finbar Donahue. Sage green does not match my hair.” She shook her head. “You’d say the same thing if I were sitting here naked.”
“Hmmm?” He didn’t think they’d be talking.
“I’ll mockup other earth tones for the buyer.”
“When is that?” He shook his head to clean out cobwebs.
“Two weeks from now.”
He stroked a finger over the miniature pocket. “I know the many uses for the knife.”
She inched up with a kiss and then motioned for him to join him at her table. “Can you text me the address of your house? I’ll be there mid-afternoon.”
He got out his phone, sent her a text, and took her hand. “Just got a message from Guhleman. I’ll keep you in the loop.”
“It means a lot.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “Most of my life, people talked over me, through me, but not to me.’
“That’s not fair.”
“What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing except that you need to be careful. You help people. Some are manipulative.”
“Bayliss would agree,” she said.
“Really.”
Amy asked, “What did Guhleman tell
He enjoyed gliding the soft sponge over her skin, lifting her arms to wash under her tantalizing breasts. Moving lower, he found every curve and hidden space during his immensely satisfying but painfully arousing task. Caring for her in this way pleased him.
She grabbed his shoulder with her hand and balanced while he washed behind her knees, planting a kiss on her thigh.
“Finn, I can’t take this much longer.” She looked down, her cheeks flushed. This was ridiculous after all they’d done, all he’d seen of her body, all the places he’d kissed. Licked. Embarrassment shouldn’t bombard her, but there it was. “Please make me come.”
Please and thank you. Her sweetness shot through him, challenging every ounce of control he had. He looked up. “I can do that.” He eased the sponge between her legs as he washed gently there, kissing the inside of her thigh.
Amy gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulder. “You are so good.” She panted as he rubbed the sponge over her sex in a gentle rhythm.
“Now I’ll get you to the good part.” He dropped the sponge and parted her thighs, replacing the sponge with his tongue.
She was slick and hot. The lukewarm water ran down her body. He lapped at her nub until she cried out. He didn’t stop until she sighed his name. Again and again. When her knees trembled, he stood and pulled her into his arms. He was harder than steel but didn’t care. His baby came, and he rocked her back and forth as she relaxed against him.
They definitely had something.
“Let’s make breakfast.” He stepped out of the shower and assisted her out as well.
She handed him a towel. “I’ll head to the kitchen and make breakfast.
“Great. Be there in a minute.” After she left the bathroom, he dropped the towel and headed back into the shower. He put a hand on the tiled wall and jerked fast. The last time he masturbated with this intensity was at sixteen after coming across Papa’s Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue.
Ten minutes later, fully dressed and standing in her kitchen door jamb, Finn said, “Sausage smells amazing.”
“Bangers. That’s what my grandparents call them.”
“I like the term.”
Amy set the sausages alongside plates with eggs, baked beans, a grilled tomato and toast. “UK style.” She poured coffee into mugs.
“Quite a treat.” His stare bypassed her eyes and landed on her braided, silken hair, ample breasts, and shapely legs in leggings and shorts. As treats went, breakfast would take second place to all the banging they’d done.
“Do you like my shorts?” She pointed to her waistband. “This little pocket holds a Swiss Army Knife.”
“That’s damn clever,” he said and attempted to look attentive. “Pretty shorts.”
“The material goes well with my hair.”
“A nice match,” he said.
“You’re hopeless, Finbar Donahue. Sage green does not match my hair.” She shook her head. “You’d say the same thing if I were sitting here naked.”
“Hmmm?” He didn’t think they’d be talking.
“I’ll mockup other earth tones for the buyer.”
“When is that?” He shook his head to clean out cobwebs.
“Two weeks from now.”
He stroked a finger over the miniature pocket. “I know the many uses for the knife.”
She inched up with a kiss and then motioned for him to join him at her table. “Can you text me the address of your house? I’ll be there mid-afternoon.”
He got out his phone, sent her a text, and took her hand. “Just got a message from Guhleman. I’ll keep you in the loop.”
“It means a lot.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “Most of my life, people talked over me, through me, but not to me.’
“That’s not fair.”
“What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing except that you need to be careful. You help people. Some are manipulative.”
“Bayliss would agree,” she said.
“Really.”
Amy asked, “What did Guhleman tell
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