“Do what?”
I wrapped my arm around his neck, his face just inches from mine. “Rub my clit with the tip.”
He complied, holding his cock at the base for better control. I gasped and pressed my forehead against his shoulder as pleasure built up fast in my hips. He let go of his cock and slipped his fingers inside me beneath the warm water and worked my clit with his thumb. My hips bucked hard. God, he was going to make me come.
“You want to be a good, little slut for me and come on my fingers?” he murmured into my hair.
I was taken aback for a moment, less by his choice of words and more by how my body responded to them. My sex ached around his fingers and I whimpered, digging my nails into his back. He swore softly and his thumb dragged over my clit, building my orgasm with alarming speed.
“Who do you belong to?” he asked quietly.
I hesitated, a flush creeping up my throat. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, who do you belong to?” he said, his voice hard.
“You.” My admittance both embarrassed and aroused me.
“Good girl.”
He flicked his fingers, finding my G-spot and working it hard. I gasped, crying out softly, and came hard, my pussy clenching around his fingers. He swore under his breath and pressed me against the wall, the heel of his hand rubbing against my clit.
“Be a good girl and ride my hand,” he purred.
My God, if he kept talking like that, I was going to come again. I obeyed, clinging to the side of the pool as I worked my hips, grinding my clit against his hand and thrusting onto his fingers. The sensations burning through my body were almost too much to bear and a quiet wail burst from my lips as my back arched.
His mouth was on my breasts, sucking hard on my nipples, his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin. Heart pounding, I came down from my high slowly, flushed with heat and arousal.
“You called me a slut,” I admonished.
He slipped his fingers from my body. “You enjoyed it. I think we both did.”
“Maybe,” I said, looking down at the rippling surface of the pool.
“Admit it if you like something, Olivia,” he said. “Between the two of us and the things I want to do to you, there isn’t enough room for shame in our bed.”
I stared at him, unsure how to answer because he was right. My nipples hardened and into my mind flashed an image of him driving into me, his slender body merciless, as he whispered those things against my throat.
Before I could respond, he dove beneath the water and swam to the other side of the room before emerging. For a moment, I forgot how to breathe as he rose from the pool and ran his hands over his face to clear the water. His body glittered with water droplets and steam rose from his skin. Against the backdrop of wilderness and cold, he looked like something from another world.
I leaned back and let my legs float in the water. As I watched him, a thought popped into my mind that, for some reason, had never occurred to me before now. How old was Lucien? I knew he’d been a teenager when I was born, but how big was the gap between our ages?
I looked down and saw him moving toward me beneath the water. He surfaced just inches from me, bending his head and nipping at my breasts as he stood.
“Swim with me,” he ordered.
“Can I ask you a question instead?”
He cocked his head and then nodded. “Go ahead.”
“How old are you?”
His mouth twitched as his gaze bored into me. “It’s a little late for that to matter. You’re already my wife.”
“I just want to know,” I insisted. I had a right to know my husband’s age.
“I’m thirty-six,” he said.
“You’re…what?” I gasped.