He was careful as he ran the blade across the delicate skin of my armpit.
But I didn’t realize that was only the beginning of his grooming plans for me. Because next, he handed the shaver to Mason and pointed down.
Mason looked excited to be involved and immediately grabbed the razor and dropped to his knees in front of me.
I gasped in a shock of breath before Mason cleaned the blade and then began to shave me—
Jesus, if I thought the skin at my armpit had been sensitive… But Mason was exquisitely careful. His fingers had me throbbing as he gently spread me to finish the shave.
My legs were trembling after that and I thought for sure the shower, which was slowly growing torturous, would be over soon.
But no, I’d forgotten that they hadn’t even washed my hair yet. The shower was not going in any recognizable order, but that was probably Bishop’s plan. He would not let my mind go into auto-mode. No, he wanted me awake, and sensitized, and aware of every single thing he was doing to me. In fact, he wanted my awareness heightened. Sneaky bastard.
“Music,” Bishop said loudly enough to be heard against the beating shower spray.
“Got it,” Tank said and headed out of the bathroom, reappearing moments later with phone in hand. “What do we want to hear?”
Cash turned around with a laugh. “How about Wagner’s Faust?”
Bishop nodded, and soon the flutes began to echo around the bathroom amid the shower spray. Bishop poured shampoo onto my hair and dragged my head against his chest as he started to scrub it in with his strong fingers.
Dear baby Jesus, that felt good. I slumped against Bishop’s body. The boundary lines between my body and his seemed to disappear as I wrapped my arms around him. Mason came up behind me, and I felt like we were all one creature in the misty heat.
Hands were everywhere. In my hair. On my ass, dragging up my hips, then squeezing my waist. Hot water poured down my neck to my spine to the crack between my ass cheeks—
Which someone was now prying apart so they could play with my asshole.
I groaned pleasure into Bishop’s chest, eyes closed and breathing through my mouth so the suds from the shampoo didn’t get into my eyes or nose. I felt primordial, and I wanted to explore bodies and be explored like the first men and women did.
Back before there were rules about anything.
About what we should or shouldn’t do.
“Yes,” I whimpered. “Stick your finger up my ass.” My clit pulsed even at the thought.
It pulsed a lot more when the finger playing with my anus, slick with shower water, pushed further and popped through the ring of muscle there. I never in my life thought this would be something I’d enjoy. But dear God—
I wriggled on the finger in my asshole as hands directed me towards a showerhead to wash the shampoo out of my hair. My eyes were still closed, and I was breathing through my mouth. Which seemed to heighten every other sense. The slightly mint taste of the shampoo that washed over my lips as it ran down towards the drain. The water as it streamed down. The second finger pushing at the ring of my anus to join the first—
“Oh God, oh God,” I started heaving. That was so hot. Why were fingers up my ass so hot? It was more than just up my ass, though. It was jiggling my entire…area. And oh God, it felt good. My hand shot out to brace myself against the wall, fingernails scrabbling for purchase as the pleasure rose, and rose, and rose—
“All right, she’s clean now.” Bishop declared. “Enough with shower time.” And then he turned all the showerheads off at once. “Finger out of her ass, lover boy.” I blinked it shock. It had been Mason’s fingers up my ass, not Bishop’s?
I looked over my shoulder as Mason pulled his hand back, a little ashen faced.
But Bishop just grinned, grabbing my chin. “We’ll make her scream like a respectable whore. On the bed with her legs spread for us.”
TWENTY-THREE
LUNA
I’d never been dried off so fast. Or so thoroughly. Or by so many hands.
So very many hands.
I gave up trying to figure out whose belonged to whom and just gave myself over to them. Even if it meant being denied a peak yet again.
Soft towels surrounded me as they dried me and wrapped my hair.
“Tank, get her to bed. Lay her out in the center like a feast.”
“Oh!” I clutched arms around Tank’s neck as he scooped me from under my knees and back. You’d think I couldn’t walk the way they kept hefting me around everywhere. I nuzzled against Tank’s big chest for the ride to the bed. Really, I wasn’t complaining.