“What are you doing?” she blurted, taking a step back.
He paused and looked at her like she’d suddenly gone crazy. “Sorry. I thought I’d join you.”
“Get out!” She covered her breasts and he laughed.
“I’ve seen it all, beautiful. I’m not sure why you’re trying to hide it now.”
He had a point. It was the initial shock of him intruding on her so boldly that made her momentarily outraged. Now that she’d calmed down, she dropped her hands but stayed pressed up against the wall, watching him.
His forehead creased. “Why do you look so afraid? I’m just taking a shower. I’m not going to force you to do anything. My dick likes you, but it’ll mind its manners.”
She nodded, then took a moment to look him over. Tattoos, nipple rings, pecs, abs, those sinfully cut arms, the vee of muscle dipping down. She bit her lip as her gaze drifted lower. He even had a sexy cock. How was that even possible?
“Come here,” he ordered softly and stretched his hand out toward her.
With a deep breath, she took his hand and let him pull her under the water and up against his body. “Turn around.”
“Why?”
He tsked. “You ask a lot of questions, little girl.” When she didn’t respond, he gently turned her by the shoulders. “I haven’t turned into a different guy just because we’re here. I’m just gonna wash your hair.”
“O-okay.” Nobody had ever washed her hair before. Not since she’d been a child anyway. What kind of guy did that? Normally, when a guy got in the shower with a girl, he wanted something.
Luke lathered her shampoo in her hair, taking his time massaging her scalp. Soon, she relaxed against him, unable to hold back the occasional groan of pleasure.
By the time he rinsed the conditioner, she couldn’t remember why she’d been so aghast about sharing the shower. Or why anyone wouldn’t want shower sex.
“There. Done,” he said once he finished.
She turned around, suddenly wanting to return the favor. Only, she’d rather wash something else of his.
Licking her lips, she lowered her gaze to his cock, which pressed against her hip. He groaned out loud. “Princess . . .” he said through gritted teeth, “you really shouldn’t look at a man that way. It’s cruel.”
“What way?”
“Like . . . I don’t know.” His voice sounded pained and his dick twitched. “Like you are right now.”
She wrapped her hand around the length of his hard cock and he hissed in a breath.
“We don’t . . .” he choked out. “You don’t have to do anything. It’s not what I came in here for.”
She knew that now. Underneath the tattoos and Mohawk, he was a gentleman, and he respected her. “I know. But I want to.” She moved her hand from the base down, and then back up again, enjoying the way his face changed as she stroked.
“You sure?”
Smirking, she nodded. “Unless you don’t.”
“Oh, I do.” He grabbed a handful of her hair and she gasped. “Then get on your knees and do it right.”
Fuuuuck. Gentleman to Dominant in one-point-five seconds.
As she lowered herself to her knees, he kept a firm hold of her hair. Eye level with his cock, she paused to stare at it. It was so . . . big. How did that thing ever fit inside her? And what was she supposed to do now?
“Have you done this before?” he asked.
“Yeah, I told you that. But . . . I suck at it.”
He snorted. “That’s the idea, sweetness.”