Page 30 of Stoker's Serenity
“God, I want you so much.” My voice was barely recognizable, tight and breathy, girly and needy.
“Hold that thought,” he whispered, pulling his hips back. I watched him as he leaned through the sliding glass shower doors with the swans on them and turned on the bathwater, pulling up on the thing to get the shower going. The tub came into focus, and God, it was awful, avocado green, the toilet white and clearly having been replaced, the sink set in the counter beside me rust-stained and old, original, and just as ugly a green as the bathtub.
“I am totally judging your bathroom,” I said and he laughed, straightening up and holding out his hands to me. I slipped mine into his and hopped down from the counter and went to him. He bent and kissed me again and the lightheartedness slipped, falling away as passion and deep emotion welled to take its place.
His hands trailed down my body, skimming over my hips, his long fingers plunging into the waistband of my suit bottoms and skimming them down. They fell in a pool at my feet and I stepped sideways out of them.
“Come on,” he whispered, and helped me step up and over the deep lip of the tub, over the metal track set on its edge. I stood with warm water beating on my back as he stepped in after me, sliding the door shut behind us.
His hands washed me, his lips ravaged mine, and I was content to just stand there forever, kissing ardently, his hands skating over my body warmed by the water.
He washed me gently with soap and his hands, teasing me between my legs with soapless fingers, backing me into the corner of the shower and kissing me, fingertips teasing against my clit with a firm touch, my head and shoulders pressed against the wall, his other arm against my lower back, pulling my hips out, tilting them back, supporting me for better access to my pussy.
He touched, licking and biting my lips, feasting at my mouth until it no longer satisfied him and he moved down my jaw, along the side of my neck, nipping at my shoulder, kissing down my body, paying attention to my breasts, moaning softly as he worked my body to a near-fever pitch with his mouth and his hands.
“No, lean back, I got you,” he growled when I tried to straighten up, and I did as he told, leaning back into the wall as he went to his knees in the tub.
“Trust me,” he said, looking up my body at me. “I’ve got you.”
I yipped when he draped my leg over his shoulder, going on tiptoe and feeling totally off balance.
“I’ve got you,” he said again and did the same to the other. “Lean back into the wall,” he ordered, and I did, effectively sitting on his shoulders as he flicked his tongue out to taste my most intimate parts.
“Oh, God!” I cried and leaned my head back, my breath coming in ragged pants as he dipped the tip of his tongue inside me, running it up the seam of my pussy lips to tease that little kernel of sensitive flesh at the apex of my thighs.
I gasped, a throaty cry escaping my mouth as I buried my hands in his hair and pulled his mouth tighter against my body.
God, yes! That felt so good.
He slid his middle finger up inside me and I cried out, trying to hold still, feeling like I was awfully precarious, perched on his shoulders like I was, but he held me fast. One hand and his mouth working my body, the other arm wrapped around the outside of my thigh, his hand pressed to the top of my leg, holding me steady.
“Stoker!” I cried, breathy, on the precipice of release and he growled, encouragingly.
I jerked in his grasp, the electrical impulses coursing through me, carrying pleasure, overloading all my synapses at once. I saw stars at the edges of my vision, despite the fact my eyes were squeezed firmly shut as I trusted him to hold me up and I tried not to flop like a landed fish.
I came back to myself and looked down at him, his eyes closed as he nuzzled the inside of my thigh and placed a reverent kiss against it. He smiled when he looked up at me.
“You good?” he asked and I blinked.
“How can you even ask that?” I asked, and he laughed.
“I meant to stand up on your own,” he said. “I’m not done with you, yet. Not by a long shot.”
I swallowed hard and nodded carefully, after taking the time to decide if I was okay to get down.
It was a little awkward getting down off his shoulders, but not too bad and he was there to catch me, keeping me steady, pressing me back into the corner, the walls propping me up as he got back to his feet.
He shut off the shower and, holding onto me, slid the door back on its metal track. He whipped one of the towels off the towel rack and wrapped me in it. The large beach towel swallowed me and instantly absorbed the water beaded on my flushed skin.
He stepped out first, grabbing his own towel, and helped me out of the shower. I carefully stepped out onto the warm, shaggy bathroom throw rug set by the tub and scrunched my toes into it out of habit.
“I want you in my bed,” he murmured, stepping into me, holding me close, and dipping his head so he could claim my mouth with his.
“Mm,” I half-whimpered, half-moaned against it with want and he took a step back, fingertips trailing along my arms, beneath my forearms, the tip of his middle finger of each hand trailing down my inner arm along a razor’s path – God knows I had thought of it enough times; I’d just never been brave enough to follow through.
I closed my eyes and immersed myself in the tickling sensation as he drew that feather-light touch along each palm, all the way out along my middle fingers before twisting his hands upright to thread his fingers in the spaces between mine.
I felt gratitude that I’d managed to hold on and be here long enough to meet a man like him and smiled as he tugged on our joined hands gently, leading me from the bathroom across the hall into his bedroom.
