were okay, and frantic to get your apartment cleaned up for you.”
“It’s okay. I’m fine. Was just making a point,” I laughed at the stoic look of genuine concern on his face, that gave him the cutest hint of laugh lines around his eyes as he softly scowled.
“I got you,” he cooed. “I won’t let you get hurt, in here or out there.”
“Is that really possible? Out there, I mean? If they just keep coming back, at what number do they hurt you too much? You just said that you could be hurt too much?”
“Sure I can, but for hundreds of years I haven’t been. I will protect you no matter what.”
“I know. It’s the no matter what part that scares me.”
“No worries. Time enough for them later. Strip. Let me see those gorgeous curves of yours. I want to see you wet,” he teased with a sly grin.
I obeyed, easily getting taken away by the mere suggestion of being with him in a different way. I’d never had shower sex before, that was for sure. Pulling off my clothing as fast as I could, I grabbed the shower door and stepped in.
“I want to watch,” he said in a deep, gravelly voice. “I want to watch you clean yourself.”
My body buzzed each time I drove him to that tone. Grabbing the shower scrunchie from the hook, I lathered it up with shower gel that smelled of vanilla to match my bubble bath. Whipping my hair back, I ran the soft sponge over my neck, shoulders, and then my breasts. He groaned out loud as the small sponge circled my nipples. Empowered, I moved the sponge down to rub in lazy circles over my stomach and generous hips. I swayed back and forth, in rhythm with the movement of my hand.
Leaning over to give him a good full view of my breasts as they hung, I propped a leg up on the side of the tub, opening my thighs. He cursed under his breath, and I could practically feel his gaze traveling over me, studying my wet folds. After I washed one leg and then the other that way, I leaned back just enough to let the shower rinse the soap from my breasts, letting the water run down to right between my thighs. I moaned then, surprised by the sensation of the warm water flowing over my swollen lips.
I shivered despite the warmth of the water. I pumped my hips, an almost instinctive move. His groan turned to that growl. Brought back to the world outside of my pussy, I opened my eyes. Blinking from the water that had sprayed there during my antics, I wiped in two furious swipes to see him. Not that he scared me, but I wanted to see him wanting me so desperately. He made a show of grabbing the top of the shower door then, for support.
I giggled, more than pleased with his attention, and more than grateful for the distraction from what my real life had turned into. The thoughts of the carnage, like a plague of locusts, kept coming, buzzing through my brain. Even now, aroused and willing, just opening my eyes, seeing the blur of the bathroom door through the glass shower door, I thought of what waited there.
Gritting my teeth, fighting such reflections, I touched myself, pressing wet, warm fingers into even wetter and warmer folds.
“Ah, I can do that for you,” he grunted. “I’m dying to touch you.”
My eyes flew open wide at the word ‘dying’. I felt the color go from my face, the sickly chill that accentuates such an event.
“I’m so sorry. I should have been more careful of my words,” he sighed. “Please forgive me.”
He’d stepped back in the beginning to lean casually against the back wall of the shower, his erection growing as I’d performed for him. With him pushing himself forward now, I tensed, my body ready for his touch in spite of the moment. With one careful stride, he stepped to me.
Pulling me into his embrace, he whispered his apology in my ear, “I’m so sorry for being insensitive. I’m so sorry for all that you had to see today, to be a part of. I’m sorry you had to save
“It’s okay. I’m fine. Was just making a point,” I laughed at the stoic look of genuine concern on his face, that gave him the cutest hint of laugh lines around his eyes as he softly scowled.
“I got you,” he cooed. “I won’t let you get hurt, in here or out there.”
“Is that really possible? Out there, I mean? If they just keep coming back, at what number do they hurt you too much? You just said that you could be hurt too much?”
“Sure I can, but for hundreds of years I haven’t been. I will protect you no matter what.”
“I know. It’s the no matter what part that scares me.”
“No worries. Time enough for them later. Strip. Let me see those gorgeous curves of yours. I want to see you wet,” he teased with a sly grin.
I obeyed, easily getting taken away by the mere suggestion of being with him in a different way. I’d never had shower sex before, that was for sure. Pulling off my clothing as fast as I could, I grabbed the shower door and stepped in.
“I want to watch,” he said in a deep, gravelly voice. “I want to watch you clean yourself.”
My body buzzed each time I drove him to that tone. Grabbing the shower scrunchie from the hook, I lathered it up with shower gel that smelled of vanilla to match my bubble bath. Whipping my hair back, I ran the soft sponge over my neck, shoulders, and then my breasts. He groaned out loud as the small sponge circled my nipples. Empowered, I moved the sponge down to rub in lazy circles over my stomach and generous hips. I swayed back and forth, in rhythm with the movement of my hand.
Leaning over to give him a good full view of my breasts as they hung, I propped a leg up on the side of the tub, opening my thighs. He cursed under his breath, and I could practically feel his gaze traveling over me, studying my wet folds. After I washed one leg and then the other that way, I leaned back just enough to let the shower rinse the soap from my breasts, letting the water run down to right between my thighs. I moaned then, surprised by the sensation of the warm water flowing over my swollen lips.
I shivered despite the warmth of the water. I pumped my hips, an almost instinctive move. His groan turned to that growl. Brought back to the world outside of my pussy, I opened my eyes. Blinking from the water that had sprayed there during my antics, I wiped in two furious swipes to see him. Not that he scared me, but I wanted to see him wanting me so desperately. He made a show of grabbing the top of the shower door then, for support.
I giggled, more than pleased with his attention, and more than grateful for the distraction from what my real life had turned into. The thoughts of the carnage, like a plague of locusts, kept coming, buzzing through my brain. Even now, aroused and willing, just opening my eyes, seeing the blur of the bathroom door through the glass shower door, I thought of what waited there.
Gritting my teeth, fighting such reflections, I touched myself, pressing wet, warm fingers into even wetter and warmer folds.
“Ah, I can do that for you,” he grunted. “I’m dying to touch you.”
My eyes flew open wide at the word ‘dying’. I felt the color go from my face, the sickly chill that accentuates such an event.
“I’m so sorry. I should have been more careful of my words,” he sighed. “Please forgive me.”
He’d stepped back in the beginning to lean casually against the back wall of the shower, his erection growing as I’d performed for him. With him pushing himself forward now, I tensed, my body ready for his touch in spite of the moment. With one careful stride, he stepped to me.
Pulling me into his embrace, he whispered his apology in my ear, “I’m so sorry for being insensitive. I’m so sorry for all that you had to see today, to be a part of. I’m sorry you had to save
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