by Mia Ashlinn
She huffed. “Did I invite you in here?”
“You sure did, baby doll,” he told her as he prowled toward her, ripping his clothes from his body with every step, “when you purposefully left that curtain open.”
She averted her eyes, but not quickly enough to hide her dilating pupils.
“Deny it,” he challenged, stepping into the shower and pushing her against the wall. He trapped her body between his and the cool, misty tiles. “I dare you.”
“Ummm.”
That was all she got out before he kissed her, his lips colliding roughly with hers. He slanted his head to the right, pushing his way inside her mouth. His tongue didn’t urge or ask for permission. It demanded.
She willingly obliged him, opening her mouth and moaning against his lips. He inhaled the sensual sound, sucking it into his mouth and swallowing it.
The hot water pelted them, running down their bodies and making them slick. He pressed his cock to her pussy and used the moisture as a lubricant to slip between the swollen lips. He propelled his hips forward, gliding his throbbing shaft through her folds, over her distended clitoris, and then drew back before doing it all over again.
She trembled against him, her ragged pants growing harsher by the second. “Randy!”
Her stiff nipple poked him in the chest, seeking his attention. Without breaking their kiss or slowing his hips, he reached between their bodies and found the rocklike points. He took them between his fingers, rolling them around. He flicked and squeezed the nubs in a random pattern, keeping her on edge and unprepared for his next attack.
She arched her back but had nowhere to go with their bodies touching from head to toe. He clung to her, and she clung to him, winding themselves around each other tightly. His hands left her nipples, lazily sliding around to the sensitive sides of her breasts, and palmed them. He tested the softness and the suppleness with his hands. Her pliable flesh yielded to him, reminding him of a pillow, only better and sexier.
Her hand joined his exploration, gliding over his wet skin while his glided over hers. He took his time, reveling in every dip and curve on her body, but she was in a hurry. Her hand went straight for his cock, attempting to guide him inside her.
“Wench,” he growled, his hand clamping onto her wrist. He jerked his body away from hers. “I don’t think so. We have a little unfinished business first.”
She blinked in confusion. “Huh? I thought you came in here for…” She trailed off with a naughty smile.
“An early-morning, bath-time fuck,” he stated bluntly, finishing her sentence for her.
She blushed, stuttering, “N–n–no. I just thought…”
“I know what you thought.” He moved to the far end of the shower, lounging against the wall. “But you were wrong. I came in to have a little chat about masturbation.”
If she hadn’t been blushing before, she did now. Her face looked as bright as a ripened tomato. It was so fucking adorable that his heart missed a beat. “Why would we want to discuss that?” she asked breathlessly.
“Because you’ve never had an orgasm.”
She crossed her arms over her exquisite breasts, drawing his attention to the creamy skin once again and making him want to bury himself in her mounds and never return. “I have too had an orgasm.”
His eyes lifted. “Liar.”
“What the fuck ever,” she muttered, her annoyance quite evident in her tone. “So what? I haven’t had an orgasm. Big deal. Why does it matter? I had several last night so I’m obviously capable of it. The past isn’t really important, only the present.”
He frowned disapprovingly back at her, challenging her to keep this up. “It’s very important. You need to get past it.” A thought popped into his mind, perking him back up. He just had to share it with her. It would be one of their rules anyway, might as well break it to her now. “Not that you will be masturbating alone any more—only with one of us present and with our permission.”
She yanked a bottle of shampoo off the rack, cursing it when her wet fingers dropped it to the floor. “Excuse me?”
He bent over, grabbed the bottle, and handed it back to her. “You heard me. You keep your fingers, hands, and toys away from that pussy. It belongs to us.”
She turned her back to him coldly, which pissed him off, but he remained mute, waiting for her to get her ass deeper in the hole. Opening the bottle, she poured an exorbitant amount of shampoo into her hand. She probably held three-quarters of the bottle in her palm. When she lathered the soap in her hands, she spilled as much as she kept. “Yeah, right, Romeo. I’m not exactly a possession. I belong to no one.”
“We’ll see about that, baby doll.”
“Yeah, we’ll see alright.” Running her hands through the strands of her ginger hair, she soaped and scrubbed with way too much vigor. Her jerky, rough movements kept snagging, making her grimace and fuss under her breath.
Without warning, he changed the subject, trying to catch her off guard. “Touch yourself.” He succeeded.
She whirled around, slipping and sliding on the soap-covered tiles. “No.”
He righted her before she took a painful spill and broke something precious on the body he adored. “Touch yourself, goddamn it.”
She jerked away from him. “Nope.”
He grabbed her, pulled her against his overheated body, and finished off with a punishing kiss to her lips. “I’m telling you to touch yourself or suffer the consequences. Either way, you will masturbate, and I will watch.”
Staring down at her startled face, he grinned. “I’m going to teach you how to do it right and enjoy it.”
Looking everywhere but at him, she shrugged. “I think it is pretty self-explanatory.”
“Is that so?” Randy tugged on her soapy hair, garnering her attention, and arched his eyebrow. “How many orgasms have you had? Not counting last night, of course.” Dramatically over exaggerating his actions, he tapped his index finger against his bristly chin repetitively, pretending to think. “Oh, right. Zero.”
He saw the indecision on her expressive face as her anxiety warred with her curious nature. She obviously wanted to try, but it embarrassed her. Having someone watch as a person engaged in such a vulnerable intimacy had to be nerve wracking for someone as new to sex as Shannon.
He understood she wasn’t really battling him. She was at war with her self-consciousness. And he loved her all the more for it. Opening herself up wasn’t easy for Shannon, and she was truly trying. Otherwise, she wouldn’t even be thinking about it. She would just follow the easiest path for her—arguing and fighting.
Holding his breath, he bided his time, and in the end, he won out. And so did her curiosity.
“Fine.”
Thank God. His muscles relaxed, and he breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He tipped her head back, gazing into her catlike eyes, drowning in the golden ripples around her dilated pupils. Water cascaded down her hair, prettier than Niagara Falls at night, washing away all remnants of shampoo. He reached for her hand and nuzzled her palm, the clean scent of her favorite soap tickling his nose. He kissed her palm before laying it on her neck. “Start here, baby doll. Masturbation goes much further than fingering yourself. It’s a whole body experience.”
He stepped back but kept his hand on hers. He guided her hand over her chest cavity, deliberately and leisurely. “Travel down between your breasts. Make sure to go slow. You want to tantalize the sensory skin. This will maximize the sensation.”
Her eyes widened, and she trembled as he moved her hand through the valley between her lush breasts. “Keep going lower,” he said as he coasted her hand over her softly curved abdomen. “Free your mind. Let your hand gravitate to the place it wants to be most. I have no doubt that it will find your pretty pussy. It wants to be there as much as you want it to be there.”
He steered her hand to her mound before letting go and crossing the shower, getting away from her in a hurry so he didn’t fuck her himself. “Now, you do the res
t.”
Her breathing hitched, panic creeping into her gorgeous face. “Do I have to?”
“Yes.”
He leaned against the wall, hoping the tiles would calm the fire burning on him and in him. He fought the urge to masturbate along with her, focusing on making his mouth and vocal cords work. “That’s the whole point. I cannot do this for you. You must do it for yourself, baby doll.”
She didn’t respond, but he didn’t need her to. Her lack of argument was her way of agreeing to continue this erotic exercise.
“Push between the labia.”
She blushed but complied.
“Find your clitoris and play with it. Make sure to follow your instincts. You know what feels good, so do it.”
Following his instructions to a T, she rolled her noticeably engorged clitoris between her fingers. “Oh, God,” she moaned as her eyes closed.
Fuck. He had to touch himself or die. Since he wanted to see her orgasm at her own hand, dying was out. He grasped his cock, rubbing the shaft brutally. “Finger yourself,” he ordered in a gravelly voice he barely recognized.
She shifted to an easier position for finger-fucking herself and, lucky for Randy, gave him an even better view. He watched closely as she penetrated her pussy with one finger then heard her gasp. “Tell me how it feels.”
“What?” she squealed without removing her finger.
“Describe how your pussy feels.”
“Seriously?” She asked with wide eyes. “Are you crazy?”
He slowed his hand down but didn’t stop. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” she said honestly with a vulnerable smile.
The urge to whoop and holler swamped him. Her answer made him feel like a man who’d found the treasure to end all treasures. But now was definitely not the time. “Then, tell me,” he instructed as he picked up the speed of his strokes where he’d left off, his cock feeling fuller and heavier than before. Her trust, her love made him horny. He had the distinct feeling that he would never get enough of her. Fuck feelings. He knew he would never get enough of her.
She plunged her finger in and out of her wet pussy, fucking herself. “Okay, um, it’s warm.”
“Good.” Warm is very good.
“And wet.”
“Mmhmm.” Wet is even better. His hand worked his cock furiously, the ecstasy he felt building to a feverish pitch.
“It’s slick.”
“Keep going.” Damn, she’s slick. He wanted to pound into that slick cunt, to feel her wrap around him, soaking him with her juices. Fuck.
“And squishy,” she mumbled so low and so quickly he almost missed it—almost.
Randy laughed, his hand pausing for a moment. “Did you really just say your pussy is squishy?”
Snatching her hand away from her pussy, she scowled and put her hands on her hips, but a telltale blush crept across her milky skin. She wasn’t mad. She was embarrassed. And Randy found it to be terribly endearing.
“If you’re going to laugh at me,” she grumbled, “I’m not going to do it.”
Trying to school his features, but failing miserably, he told her, “Only you would describe your hot, little cunt as squishy.” He crowed, doubling over.
She growled at him.
He laughed even harder. Her growl didn’t sound big or bad. She came off as cute and cuddly, like a Maltese puppy instead of a full-grown German shepherd. “Okay, it’s squishy. What else?”
She penetrated her pussy once more with a sigh. “It’s so soft.”
His amusement fled, and his desire returned. Getting her to describe her cunt might not have been his brightest idea. He wouldn’t be able to maintain his control much longer. Hurry her along. “Focus on those things, baby doll.”
Her brow furrowed, concentration filling her face.
“Don’t overthink,” he told her, biting back a groan so he wouldn’t distract her. “Feel them. Embrace them.”
Her facial features smoothed out, relaxing, and her hands moved faster. “Oh!”
Focus. He breathed deeply, asking her, “Feel good?”
“Yeeeaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!”
“Are you almost there?” Please say yes, please say yes. His balls tightened, his shaft elongating. He had about thirty seconds before detonation, if that.
“God, yeah.” She was a goner. He could see it on her face, in her body language. Her finger was no longer the only thing working her pussy. She humped her hand wildly.
He pumped his cock faster. “Come, Shannon. Come now.”
“Randy,” she yelled, her scream filling the bathroom.
“Holy mother of all that is good!” His body convulsed as his cum spilled out and onto his hand before running down his leg and landing in the water pooling at his feet.
Panting harshly, they both collapsed, falling to the sodden floor, laughing like loons. Her laughter stopped abruptly, and she blurted out, “I love you, Randy.”
He inched over to her and draped his arm around her shoulders. “I love you, too,” he reminded her, “but you already know that.”
She snuggled closer to him with a whispered, “I know.”
And all was right in his world.
Chapter 13
“You are going to just walk out of here without telling her you’re leaving or you’re sorry or what the fuck ever?” Jared was getting pretty damn tired of arguing with his thickskulled brother. Thirty minutes! They had argued for thirty fucking minutes in Shannon’s room while his other brother had bath time just down the hall, forcing him to endure her moans and cries without doing a goddamn thing about it. His poor, pitiful cock raged at him. If he didn’t get inside her soon, his dick would revolt.
Since Jared was attached to that particular appendage, he planned to fuck her before it fell off. Damn it. He needed to get through to Drew first. “I knew you were a cold-blooded ass. But, damn, this is cold even for you.”
Jerking his clothes on, Drew nodded. “That pretty much sums it up.”
Sometimes talking to Drew was worse than pulling teeth. Okay, he conceded, not sometimes—all the time. “Which part?”
“All of the above.” Drew spoke so coldly that it was a bloody miracle they both didn’t die of hypothermia on the spot.
Jared clenched his fists tightly, fighting the urge to beat the shit out of Drew. Maybe then his brother would stop being such a damn moron. “You bastard. You don’t deserve her.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” Drew scanned the room, his face a tornado of emotions. He looked furious and confused, but mostly, he looked panicked.
“Where the fuck are my shoes?” Drew flew around Shannon’s room, searching high and low, checking every nook and cranny. Someone wanted out of here before a certain glorious goddess emerged from her shower.
Jared noticed his brother’s shoes under the bed next to his feet. He seriously contemplated kicking them further under the bed and buying himself some time to calm Drew the fuck down. But, it wasn’t worth it. Drew would just hightail it out the door minus his shoes. Stubborn ass.
Jared picked up Drew’s shoes before launching them at his brother. “This temper tantrum of yours has nothing to do with Shannon’s apology, does it? It’s about your nightmares.”
Drew stiffened but still caught the boots before they could hit him. “We are not talking about those. Besides, I haven’t had one since Dad died.”
“Until last night…” Jared trailed off, deliberately trying to provoke his brother into responding to the true elephant in the room. “Don’t play dumb. I was right there with you in the middle of that damn nightmare. And so was Randy.”
“This has nothing to do with a stupid dream I might or might not have had last night.” Drew sat down in the rocking chair then jammed his feet into the boots he’d worn to dinner last night. He didn’t waste any more time before rising to his feet and stating, “This is about her. She regrets last night. Fine, I get it.”
Jared rolled his eyes at his foolish brother. Drew had always refus
ed to talk about the nightmares that plagued him. He pretended he didn’t experience them, just as Jared and Randy acted like they didn’t suffer right along with him. Then when the nightmares stopped abruptly, all three of them breathed a sigh of relief and never spoke of them again.
Last night had been the first nightmare for any of them in seventeen years, not a single one since they’d buried their parents. Drew’s subconscious would choose now to dredge up the past they wanted to forget and fuck everything up.
“If,” Jared stressed with a grimace, “that really is your problem, then ask her, Drew. Don’t be a pussy. You have no way of knowing what she meant.”
“Yeah, ask me, you big goober!”
Both men froze, going as still as a newly carved ice sculpture. Shit. Jared made a mental note to maim his brother later.
Jared and Drew’s eyes met across the room. For one fleeting moment, sorrow flashed in Drew’s eyes before he extinguished it, his eyes becoming blue ice chips. He turned on Shannon, acting as if she were his adversary and not his woman. “No.”
Jared didn’t want to see the hurt on Shannon’s face, but he was helpless to do anything else. He couldn’t exactly stare at the bedroom ceiling through this conversation. Not to mention, he refused take a backseat with them. Steeling himself against her emotional anguish, Jared rotated and faced her head-on, like the man he was.
Oh, yeah, I’m a red-blooded man alright. The siren in the doorway proved it. Damn. Hell. Shit. He swore, using every curse word he knew in the English language before resorting to curse words in foreign languages. Puta madre! Gott! Fils de pute!
The blood in his head drained into his cock as he admired Shannon’s statuesque body standing just inside the door with only a tiny towel covering parts of her. Lower, lower, lower. Fuck that. Drop the towel, princess.
“I don’t want to hear it.” Drew reached for his jacket, shrugging it on. “You’ve told me often enough to fuck off. I don’t need it again.”
Shannon dropped her towel, revealing every divine inch of her body to their eyes, then stomped over to the dresser. “You have all the fucking answers, don’t you, Drew?” She tore open the door and yanked out clothes without so much as a glance. She dressed haphazardly, her clothing mismatched, half-buttoned, and crooked.