“Get in.”
This new person is getting under my skin with his bossy tone. I know there’s no point in arguing.
I shuck off my bra as Herc sweetly brushes all remaining foliage from my hair and body.
The warm spray relaxes me in the shower, and I melt against the tile wall.
“Nope. I’m your wall, baby. Come here.”
I snort and tell him he’s ridiculous, but I do enjoy the pampering. Herc’s chest makes a nice wall to rest my cheek against. While I lean in, he takes control, washing and rinsing my hair, massaging my scalp, and working a soft, sudsy loofah all over my skin. I suspect being in control of washing me is another excuse to examine me for cuts and bruises from our chase in the woods. But I don’t mind.
He’s fussing over me, and I love it. I have to shut down the rational part of my brain, which warns me to protect my heart. Right now, shutting off that protective voice in my head feels good.
I’m loose and warm when he’s finished with me.
“Go towel off and get in my bed while I finish up.”
I smile up at him languidly. “But what if I want to watch?”
His jaw ticks. “Fine.”
I lean against the tile and watch this man scrub his body with a clean cloth. He uses bar soap to wash his hair, and I bite back a cringing laugh. The man needs to take better care of his hair.
Herc’s spicy-scented soap lathers in his hands and cascades down the cords of his neck, down the plane of his broad chest, dribbling over the ridges of his tummy. The rivers of soapy water find their way to the vee at his pelvis, channeling down to the base of Herc’s long, thick cock. It juts out between his legs, twitching when my eyes lock on it.
My gaze goes up to meet his hooded eyes. I keep watch on his face as I slowly lower to my knees.
“Megs,” he rasps, his jaw ticking. “Get up. It’s concrete down there. Your knees.”
“I’m not hurt. And I’m not going to break. Unless you don’t want this.” I use my hands to catch the falling spray and rinse his cock clean of soap.
Herc groans and steps sideways out of the spray, then props himself up against the tile, the washcloth falling from his hands and slapping to the concrete next to me.
The cord in his neck stands out when I take him into my mouth. He emits a small curse as I swirl my tongue around the tip, then press my tongue hard along the dark vein on the bottom of his shaft.
He watches me as I taste him, sucking and swirling with my tongue, gripping and teasing the thick root with my hands. I don’t have much of a gag reflex, but I have learned that Herc likes the drama of it. I tighten the back of my throat around the tip and gag a little, my eyes going wide and pleading.
“Megs,” he grits out, his jaw ticking. One of his hands lets go of the wall to reach down and twist a handful of my wet hair around his fist. I force the gagging just enough to produce tears. And when I hear him groan, I open my throat again and take him down deep.
Herc closes his eyes and presses his forehead to the tile, and I know he’s close. With his grip on my hair guiding my speed, I let out a loud whimper. He curses at the sound of it and comes down my throat while rasping, groaning my name. He tastes salty-sweet, the delicious essence of my beautiful, powerful Hercules.
FOURTEEN
Herc
“But you don’t have anything here to tie me down.”
Now that I’ve assured myself that she’s okay, with no bumps or bruises, I feel slightly more comfortable about wanting more. Memories of the things we used to do together fight with the more conventional side of me.
Meghan woke up the primal side of me with that comment at the marina, and now I won’t stop thinking about it until I do something about it. Hopefully, this time, I don’t fuck it up.
I remove the ice water from the freezer.
She watches me set the water on the floor next to the mattress and licks her lips. “Well?”
“Don’t need anything to keep you still, nothing but my hand.”
“I’ll flinch,” she says, her eyes avid.