Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 118114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
I slid the soap along the surface of his smooth skin, his muscled arms, the tattoo on his right shoulder that gleamed black under the wetness. Then I moved to his chest and my hands roamed over the story of his past.
The knife.
Was that why he carried one, because a knife had wreaked havoc on his body? But some scars looked like burns and others were wider than what a knife would leave. Torture. It was impossible all the scars were from an accident. God, who would hurt him like this?
As I finished his upper body, I hesitated when I reached his pelvis and his cock. It was hard and erect, and like the rest of him—commanding.
I glanced up at him.
He arched a brow and took the bottle from me and tipped it, squeezing out more soap. I put my hand out to catch it and the white thick gel suddenly didn’t look like soap anymore.
“You can clean it with your mouth if you prefer?”
My heart jumped and I swallowed, my eyes going back to his jutting cock. I took hold of the base and heard him suck in air. I inwardly smiled. Then with the soap, I stroked the hard surface up and down while I continued to fist it. Once he was covered in soap and now breathing hard, I used one hand to wash his balls. Gently, rolling them like delicate jewels between my palms before slipping my finger between his legs along the crease of his ass.
His hand latched onto my hair then shoved me to the back of the shower, so he stood under the spray to wash the soap off. Then he turned to face me again.
“I want to… taste you,” I said.
His eyes blazed with desire, heightening the inferno of heat roaring through me.
I dropped to my knees and he blocked the spray with his back, but water trickled over his shoulders, down his chest.
The tiles hurt my knees, but when I wrapped my mouth around him, I forgot all about the bruising pain. He tasted like soap and water and… him. It was the smell of him that I’d never forget. It couldn’t be washed away or overlooked. It was in him. And it was in me.
He groaned as he pushed his hips forward, his hand on the back of my head to keep me in place. I gagged when he went too far down my throat, but I didn’t stop or pull away. I sucked on him harder, taking all of him then drawing back again, my tongue circling the tip.
“That’s it, braveheart,” he said as he widened his stance and tightened his grip in my hair. “Fuck. Yes.”
He began to push his hips forward again. “Take all of me.”
I tried to relax my throat as he withdrew then pushed to the back of my throat again. I sucked at the same time, loving the taste of him. His cock jerked and his hand tightened in my hair. Then his body tensed.
He groaned as he shot down my throat.
“Fuck, baby.”
I swallowed then gently licked the remnants from the tip.
He helped me to my feet and smoothed the wet strands away from my face. “Better than I ever imagined.”
I bit my lip, liking the thought that he’d imagined me sucking him off.
It was another ten minutes before we came out of the shower because he washed every inch of me paying special attention to between my legs, which ended up having me quivering and crying out his name.
The look he’d had earlier had left and he was the man I was beginning to understand… well, understand small pieces of.
He had kindness in him that I hadn’t expected when I’d first seen him through the crack in the closet. But it was there, lying dormant most of the time, but like when he washed me and then toweled me off, it was with gentleness and care.
Then I’d caught the reflection of the knife in the mirror and wondered if maybe it was an act. The kindness he showed my body.
Maybe I was fooling myself to think I knew even a piece of this man. Did any of it matter? This was the last time I’d see him.
Then my thoughts were quickly set aside as he fucked me on the bathroom counter then again in the kitchen from behind like he’d done the first night a week ago. I did notice he never kissed me on the mouth. Not once. I wondered why he didn’t, but maybe it was better. Less… personal.
When he suggested we order in something to eat, I thought it odd and… well, normal. He dressed but insisted I remain in only panties and a spaghetti strapped camisole. I argued at first, but then stopped because I realized it was hot being half-naked with him dressed.