Voyeur - Lacey Alexander [43]
Just like the previous night and this morning, Braden’s kiss was at once easy and stunning, heightening every other sensation. She lifted her hands to his shoulders, let the kiss swallow her, let his tongue capture hers. When it finally ended, they both let out breathy sighs, and she couldn’t help thinking that even Braden seemed affected. He’d probably kissed hundreds of women, so it imbued her with unexpected power to think hers might actually be special in some way.
“Mmm,” he sighed. “You make it hard to go slow.”
She tilted her head. “Do we have to? Go slow?”
He offered a solemn nod. “Yes.”
“Why?” She bit her lip and felt heat rising to her cheeks with the realization that he’d gotten her in the mood for something hard and fast.
“Because I want to wash you.”
“Oh . . .”The word left her in an airy sound, her body tingling from the promise as he reached to one of the shelves lining the dark marble walls.
He picked up a familiar sponge—the same she’d used—and squeezed her pink body wash onto it, filling the shower with the scent of fresh raspberries. He squished the sponge in his fist and white suds, sparkling like Colorado snow beneath the sun, oozed out.
With one strong hand, Braden drew her arm toward him to run the soapy sponge up its inner side. Somehow, her cunt rippled simply from that. He didn’t stop there, though, gliding it onto her breast and around in a smooth circle that nearly stole her breath. “Oh,” she said again, off balance from the heady sensation, and he steadied her with a palm at her hip. “You have a way with a sponge, Mr. Stone,” she added with a slightly embarrassed laugh.
“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” he teased, but his eyes were all fire as he drew the sponge slowly around the other breast, leaving a trail of thick white suds behind.
Next, he grazed her stomach, swiping slowly back and forth and making her yearn for it to go lower. Which is when it did—right between her thighs. She sucked in her breath, parted her legs, and watched as he moved the sponge up and down, every brush stimulating her swollen clitoris. “Mmm,” she moaned, her eyes falling shut to the heavenly sensation.
“You look so good in soap suds, baby,” he breathed over her hotly.
“Want to hear a confession?” she asked, peering up at him.
His eyes lit up. “Always.”
“The first time I took a shower here, after we’d been . . . you know . . . talking on the computer . . . I got excited, thinking about you, and I wondered if you’d like seeing me this way, all wet and soapy.”
“Unh—you just made me harder, honey,” he said. “And I have a confession, too. I fantasized about you, all soaped up for me. But the real thing is even better.” With that, he thrust the sponge back on the shelf and let his hands close over her soap-covered breasts. “So slick,” he murmured, massaging them. “Slick and sudsy and beautiful.” His erection pressed into her stomach, and she couldn’t resist curling her hand around it. His groan filled her with the need to pleasure him more deeply.
On impulse, she reached for the sponge he’d abandoned and ran it up his rigid length. “Aw, baby,” he growled. He still caressed her wet breasts, peered longingly into her eyes. But then his gaze dropped to the two soapy bodies touching amid the suds, and hers did, too.
She ran the sponge in a circle around his shaft, then slid it underneath to his balls. Yet another deep moan left him through clenched teeth, and she wondered if it was possible for her to come just from touching him. In addition to gliding the soft sponge between his legs, she swiped it over his chest, stomach, his muscular arms. Then she spun him around to wash his back and discovered as she moved lower that he possessed—not surprisingly—a fabulous round, firm ass, which also got cleaned.
The more she explored, the more she wanted him. The hell with chatting by the fire—she wanted him to fuck her hard