“Hey,” he says. He grins as he sticks his head under the spray to wash the soap out of his hair. Water sluices down over his face and he shakes his head to clear his eyes, which makes me laugh. “You going to stay way over there?” he asks, his eyes getting smoky all of a sudden.
“Is it okay that I’m here?” I ask, my voice so quiet I can barely hear it over the water.
“Depends,” he says, as he stares at me with one eye closed. “Why are you here?”
I look down at the top of my hand and hold it up for him to see, even though there’s nothing there. “You licked my hand.”
“I did.” He grins at me, but it’s a hot, smoldering grin. One that makes my heart trip faster.
“And I liked it.”
“Hmm,” he replies. He wraps one arm around my waist and pulls me against him. We are skin to skin.
“I just got some good news,” I tell him.
His brow furrows. “What’s that?”
“When I went to the doctor, I had them test me for sexually transmitted diseases, and all my tests were negative. I just now found out.”
He points to the shower floor. “You just found out. Just now?”
“I’m clean.” I touch his chest, the tautness of muscle a juxtaposition with his soft skin.
“Shy gave me condoms,” he says, as he sucks my earlobe between his teeth and nibbles gently.
I push back from him. “Shy did?”
He laughs and pulls me back toward him. “Yep. He threw them at me as I left the other day.”
“That dirty old man,” I say. “I might have to thank him.”
He palms one breast, testing the weight. “I knew you’d be perfect,” he says. Then he bends and takes the nipple into his mouth. I fall back against the wall and he follows me, his lips holding tightly as his tongue slowly licks back and forth across my nipple. “I have wanted to taste you for so long,” he says close to my ear as he lifts his head.
I can feel his manhood pressed against my belly, hot and hard and ready. I part my legs and wait for him to notch it between my legs. But he doesn’t. Instead, he licks his way down my body, paying attention to every part of me on the way. When he parts my lower lips, I jump. He looks up. “Is this okay?”
“I don’t know,” I reply honestly.
He leans forward and blows against my tender skin, his cool breath against my hot skin a balm and an ignition all at once. My pulse begins to pound. “What does that mean?”
I swallow noisily. “I’ve never been with…anybody who wanted to…spend a lot of time down there.”
His brow furrows. “Nobody wanted to lick your pussy?”
“Oh, God,” I say as he licks up my slit, his tongue stopping at the top to rub, the flat section of his tongue moving back and forth.
“Nobody?” he asks again.
I shake my head, unable to even open my eyes.
He lifts my leg over his shoulder and breathes against me, his fingers parting me even more. “This is my favorite thing,” he says. He licks up my slit again, and this time when he reaches that bundle of nerves near the front, he stops and gives a gentle suck that nearly has my knees buckling. I reach for the top of his head and hold on tight. “Have you ever come like this?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Remember I told you sex is supposed to be like a religious experience?”
I nod, unable to speak. When he slides two fingers inside me, though, I cry out “Oh, God,” again.
He grins against my skin, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, he adds a hum to his steady rhythm of licks and sucks.