Oh. The feel of her. I want more. I kiss her hard, my tongue exploring her mouth.
She moans and suddenly yanks my shirt open, the buttons flying off and landing in the shower.
Whoa.
Ana!
She tugs my shirt over my shoulders and pushes me against the tiles. But she can’t remove it. “Cuff links.” I hold up my wrists. Her fingers make light work of each, and she lets them fall to the floor, followed by my shirt. Her feverish fingers reach for my waistband.
Oh no.
Not yet.
Grasping her shoulders, I spin her around, giving me easier access to her zipper. I complete its journey to its bottom and pull her dress down, just below her breasts. Her arms are still in the sleeves, restricting her movement.
I like that.
Smoothing her wet hair away from her neck, I lean forward, and with my tongue, I taste the water running off her skin, from her neck to her hairline.
She tastes so good.
I run my lips along the length of her shoulder, kissing and sucking, as my arousal strains against my zipper. She braces her hands on the tiles and groans while I kiss my favorite spot beneath her ear. Gently, I unhook her bra and push it down, then cup her breasts in my hands. I moan my appreciation. She has great tits.
Responsive, too.
“So beautiful,” I whisper in her ear. She rolls her head to one side, exposing her neck and throat, and she pushes her breasts into the palms of my hands. She reaches around, still trapped by her dress, and she finds my erection.
Sucking in a breath, I push my impatient cock into her hands. The feel of her fingers through the soaking fabric is erotic.
Gently, I tug on her nipples, first between my thumb and forefinger, then pinch them between my fingers. She whimpers, loud and clear, as they harden and lengthen under my touch.
“Yes,” I whisper.
Let me hear you, baby.
I turn her around and capture her lips with mine, peeling off her dress and her underwear until she’s naked before me; her clothes a sodden mess at our feet.
She grabs the body wash and squirts some into her hand. Gazing up at me, asking for permission, she waits.
Okay. We’re doing this.
I take a deep breath and nod.
With aching tenderness, she places her hand on my chest. I freeze and slowly she rubs in the soap, skimming small circles on my skin. The darkness is quiet.
But I’m tense.
Everywhere.
Damn it.
Relax, Grey.
She means you no harm.
After a beat, I clasp her hips and watch her face. Her concentration. Her compassion. It’s all there. My breathing accelerates. But it’s cool. I can cope.
“Is this okay?” she asks.
“Yes.” I squeeze the word out.
Her hands flow across my body to wash my underarms, my ribs, down over my belly, and down farther, to the waistband of my pants.
I exhale. “My turn.” Moving us out of the shower stream, I reach for the shampoo. I squirt some onto her head and begin massaging the soap into her hair. She closes her eyes and makes an appreciative noise deep in her throat.
I chuckle, and it’s cathartic. “You like?”
“Hmm…”
“Me, too.” I kiss her forehead and continue kneading her scalp. “Turn around.” She obeys immediately, and I continue to wash her hair. When I’m done, her head is covered in suds. I ease her under the shower once more. “Lean your head back.”
Ana complies, and I rinse out all the soap.
There is nothing I love more than taking care of my girl.
In every way.
She turns around and grabs the waistband of my pants. “I want to wash all of you,” she says. I hold up my hands in surrender.
I’m yours, Ana. Take me.
She undresses me, freeing my erection—and my pants and boxers join the rest of our clothes on the shower floor.
“Looks like you’re pleased to see me,” she says.
“I’m always pleased to see you, Miss Steele.”
We beam at each other while she grabs and soaps a sponge. She surprises me a little when she starts at my chest, and she works her way down to my ready cock.
Oh yes.
She drops the sponge and her hands are on me.
Fuck.
I close my eyes as she tightens her fingers around me. I flex my hips and groan. This is exactly how to spend the early hours of a Saturday morning after a near-death experience.
Wait.
I open my eyes and pin her with my gaze. “It’s Saturday.” I grasp her waist and pull her against my body and kiss her.
No more condoms.
My hand, wet and slick with soap, travels down her body, over her breasts, her belly, down to her sex. I tease her with my fingers while I consume her mouth and her tongue, keeping her head in place with my other hand.
I slip my fingers inside her and she moans in my mouth.
“Yes,” I hiss. She’s ready. I lift her, my hands on her backside. “Wrap your legs around me, baby.” She does as she’s told, wrapping around me like warm, wet silk. I brace her against the wall.