My watery eyes, trembling hands, and huddled form?
Or did he see that I was alone? That I was naked, wet, and alone for so long?
So long.
I took the sponge and soaked it with water, squeezing it down over my bent knees and letting it fall down my legs over and over again. Then I did the same thing to my neck, moving my hair to one side and letting hot water run down my back.
Moving the sponge to the front of my neck, I tipped my head back, straightened my spine, and sat up tall, squeezing the water out, while letting my legs fall cross-legged and away from my body so the water could cascade down over my breasts and stomach. It caressed me, the warmth feeling so good, and I panted as I did it over and over again, rubbing the sponge down my neck.
And in your bed tonight, when it’s late and dark, and the rest of the house is quiet…you’re pissed and angry, because you think you hate me, but you slip a hand under the covers anyway, because no one will be the wiser if you indulge yourself in the memory of me…
I laid back, still only an inch of water under me, because I hadn’t plugged the tub yet, and slowly ran the sponge down my torso, between my breasts, and down my tummy, nearly reaching my panty line.
Tears sprang up behind my closed lids, but I wasn’t sad. Every inch of my skin buzzed with heat—with wanting something to happen, anything to happen—as long as I could get rid of what was winding through my brain and stomach like a goddamn screwdriver and pooling between my legs.
Anger and fury and heat and need so strong you’re a fucking animal, Winter. It’s primal.
Primal.
There was no sense, but it was strong. It was need.
My chest rose and fell harder and harder, the sponge rubbing down the inside of my thigh, and I gripped it, seeing him watching me in my mind. Making him watch what he’d never do to me, and what I could get on my own.
I grabbed a breast, feeling its round, perfect shape and squeezing it, then tearing my hand away and making it bounce.
Dr
opping the sponge, I cupped myself between my legs and rolled my head, slipping a finger inside me and moaning.
What did he see when he looked at me? Did he want it? Did he want his mouth on me and his hands on my eager skin, sweaty in my sheets as he fucked me with my sister out of town?
Or did he want his little dancer to perform for him? To make him come but never get me dirty.
Growling under my breath, I slid my body up, hooked my legs over the end of the tub, and adjusted the nob, making the thick stream of water a slow dribble and less hot.
The little flow of water fell down out of the faucet above, hitting my clit positioned below, and I let out a whimper, my body immediately convulsing with pleasure.
I didn’t have any control here, though. I wanted to fuck. Gripping both sides of the tub, I pulled myself up onto the rim, my legs still dangling over the side as I got closer to the stream, positioning myself right under it.
The water hit me, pounding my little clit, and I opened my mouth, letting out a groan as I rolled my hips into it. The air tickled my skin as I jutted out my breasts and rode it harder and faster, getting tapped and teased by the little stream.
The flesh of my nipples grew taut, and I wanted a mouth. I wanted to be kissed and sucked, and I needed exactly what Will said I needed.
I spread my legs wider, baring my pussy as I strained the muscles in my legs and arm, masturbating myself on the water.
He watched me. Did he like it?
I whimpered and moaned, feeling the pressure rise inside me as my body begged to be filled. Moving my ass faster, I grabbed the fishhook faucet like it was his head, fucking harder and breathing in and out, deeper and louder.
“You’re not the boss,” I gasped, taunting him. “Not the boss of me. Little sister does anything she wants. Whoever she wants. You’re not my daddy.”
My orgasm crested, I shook and jerked harder, and then I threw my head back, heat coming out of my pores and pleasure wracking through my whole body like sparks.
“Ah, fuck,” I cried out. “Fuck.”
Every muscle tightened as it coursed through my body, and even though I burned with the strain of my position, I’d come so good I wanted to cry.
I stayed like that for almost a minute, letting myself calm down, before I lowered myself back into the tub.