Her smile turns knowing. “We could still salvage the night… if you’re up for it.”
I huff out a shaky, surprised laugh at her attempt to lighten themood. She’s way more composed than I am right now. “Only if you’re cool with starting in the shower.”
“Thought you’d never ask.”
5
BOTH SIN AND SWEETNESS ALL AT ONCE
HAISLEY
Well, that freaking broken condom almost killed the mood. But lucky for us, I came with a backup, and we can pick up right where we left off.And damn, it’s already been one hell of a ride.
I couldn’t believe my eyes when I first spotted him at Noir 21. It felt as though someone had taken a page out of my mental journal and created a man who fits my taste perfectly. The only thing missing is a beard, but I let it slide. Because I can’t stop admiring that freaking man bun and tattoos that were a total surprise. His well-fitted suit managed to hide all that enticing ink. And let’s not forget those deep chocolate-colored eyes that weaken my knees.
I can’t shake off the feeling there’s something familiar about him though. But I don’t know what.
I slip off my heels and follow my mystery man into the spacious bathroom. “Want to wash my back?”
A cocky smirk tugs at his lips. “Mask on or off?”
I’m tempted to say off.I really am.But I’ve come this far chasing the fantasy of having a night of anonymous fun, so why stop here? “I was thinking you could bend me over, so take it off if you want.”
“Deal,” he says, closing the space between us, his eyes locking with mine. “Fuck, I’ve been dying to taste you.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” I challenge.
“Let’s rinse off first. After that, I’ll take my time and devour every single inch.”
“Promises, promises.”
“I don’t make promises I don’t plan to keep,” he murmurs, fingers slipping through my wig. “Now hold still. Don’t want to get this wet.”
He grabs an elastic tie from the counter and gently gathers my hair into a messy bun. His movements are careful like he’s handling something precious. And I enjoy it more than I’d like to admit. There’s something intimate about this moment, more than anything we’ve done so far.
With my hair up, I step into the stall, adjust the showerhead, and turn on the water. The warmth of it immediately envelops me from the neck down, easing the soreness in my muscles. I close my tired eyes, taking time to calm my still racing heart.
The glass door creaks open, and the air shifts when he steps in behind me. He moves so that my back is against his front, and I can feel him hardening again.
A soft moan escapes me as his hand slides up to hold my jaw, tilting my head back. Without my heels, he’s a good four or five inches taller than my six-foot frame.
“You’re so responsive,” he murmurs, his voice thick. “It’s intoxicating. You’re making it hard to take my time.”
His full lips trace along my throat, and the sensation of his teeth grazing my sensitive skin sends a jolt of pleasure straight to my center. My knees nearly buckle, and I grip his thigh for support.
“Please, I need you,” I breathe.
“I know you want my fingers,” he whispers, his voice soft like velvet. “But not yet. I’m going to soap you up first, enjoying touching every inch of you.”
He reaches for the body wash, pouring a generous amount into his palm and rubs his hands together. The scent, both musky and expensive, mixes with the steam around us.
His soapy hands glide over my shoulders, massaging them. I brace my palms against the tile, arching into his touch. He works his way down, thumbs pressing into the tight spots along my spine, drawing out a low groan from deep inside me. Every stroke feels measured, each one carefully placed to leave me trembling by the time he’s done.
He trails his fingers lower, over the small of my back, then around my waist before dipping low between my thighs. Right where I ache for him. But he doesn’t linger. I whimper, hips rolling toward him, silently begging for more. My skin buzzes under his calloused hands, my breath catching with every calculated pause.
He chuckles wickedly. “Patience, sweetness.”
He shifts behind me, pouring more body wash into his palm. The slick sound of his hands moving over his own skin follows. He’s taking his time, and somehow, the thought of him teasinghimself, the same way he teased me, threatens to unravel me even more than his touch.
