The Wrong Gentleman

“Old habits,” I replied. “But tell me more about you. What do your parents do?”

“My mother’s dead. My dad . . .” She shrugged. “I’ve no idea where he is.”

She might accuse me of not being one to share, but I could tell by the way she wasn’t meeting my eye that there was something she wasn’t saying.

“What happened to him?”

She shrugged, pushing her thumb into my leg as if she was trying to make a fingerprint. “Prison somewhere. Haven’t seen him since I was fourteen.”

The light in her eyes dimmed, and I didn’t like it. “I’m sorry,” I replied.

She forced a smile. “Not my problem anymore,” she replied.

But it had been. At some point. And the memory of him still cloaked her in sadness.

“Come here,” I said. “Stand up and sit in front of me.”

Her smile morphed into something more genuine, and she stood, the water and bubbles skating down her body as she did.

“That’s better. You were too far away over there,” I said as she sat back against my chest, and I circled my arms around her waist, stroking my hand over her stomach, cupping her breasts then releasing them.

“Are my boobs particularly dirty?” she asked.

“Filthy,” I said, my hands covering them.

She giggled and entwined her legs with mine. “Is this your thing? Baths with women?”

I slid my hands down her stomach, enjoying the feel of her so close. “I can’t remember the last time I had a bath. As a kid, I guess.”

She shifted and turned her head to look up at me as if to ensure I wasn’t joking.

I dipped my head and kissed her, expecting it to be a quick peck, but when I tasted her, I couldn’t pull away and instead plowed into her mouth with my tongue as I brought my hands up to cup her breasts. She moaned and leaned back, eventually shifting her entire body and straddling me.

Her water-covered skin felt like silk under my fingers as I ran my hands up her back, then down to her perfect arse as we continued to kiss, our tongues crashing together and desperately exploring. I slipped my fingers between her legs, and when she started to squirm, I grabbed her hip with my free hand, holding her in place.

Exploring her warm folds, I found her clitoris hard and needy, and she gasped into my mouth as I pressed and circled. I held her tight as her body strained against my touch. As I pushed my fingers inside her, she sighed—relief or pleasure or both? We broke our kiss as she tipped her head back and clutched at my neck.

“Landon,” she whispered. “Landon.”

I let her rock back and forth as she began to fuck my hand, and I took in her wet breasts and smooth, wet stomach. I’d never seen anyone sexier. Her fingers tightened against my skin.

“I’m going to come.” Her eyes flew open in panic as her gaze fixed on me as if she was afraid I was going to stop her. As if she wasn’t allowed. But it was exactly what I wanted—to see this beautiful, sexy, slightly damaged woman come because of me. Her mouth formed that perfect “O” and her body tensed as our eyes stayed locked. Looking into Skylar’s face as she came at my touch had blood racing to my dick, and it pulsed beneath her.

She cried out, then slumped against my chest, her body soft and warm. Withdrawing my hand, I pulled her close and kissed the top of her head.

“This view,” she said after the rise and fall of her belly calmed.

“It’s pretty spectacular,” I replied, glancing down at her.

She shivered as I trailed my fingers down her back.

“Are you cold?” I asked.

“I can’t tell.”

I chuckled. The temperature of the bath had cooled. It was time to move. “Let’s get you dry,” I said, shifting her so I could climb out. When out, I bent, scooped her up, and she squealed before I set her on her feet and wrapped her in a big, white towel. I picked her up again and carried her to the bed.