Page 11 of The Trouble With Bad Boys

Her lips graze my neck just below my ear, and then I feel her teeth playfully nibbling on me. With each thrust into her, it’s hard to keep myself from pounding into her I want to come so badly. I want to make this last, but sex first thing in the morning isn’t my best time for duration.

Rolling her hips, she takes all of me until there’s not an inch of space separating us. I hold her up with my hands on her ass while we find a rhythm to our fucking. It doesn’t take long before my thrusts are met with her angling her hips to take every bit of my cock.

My ears are filled with the soft sound of her moaning, and with each second that passes, we inch closer and closer to coming. As much as I’d like to drag this out a little longer, the combination of it being morning wood and how good she fucking feels makes that impossible.

“Oh, God! Right there…don’t stop,” she begs, but she doesn’t have to. I couldn’t stop now if my life depended on it.

Hell, I don’t even think I could stop if someone walked into this shower with us at this moment and held a gun to my head.

She kisses me hard, snaking her tongue into my mouth with none of the playfulness from before. Now she simply wants me to give her what she desperately needs, and I’m happy to do it.

I squeeze her ass tightly in my hands, pinching her skin, but she doesn’t care. My thigh muscles feel like they’re on fire and may explode out of my legs at any moment, and even that can’t stop me from fucking her as hard as I can.

We’re like two wild horses racing toward that moment of bliss. I grunt. She moans louder and louder as we get closer and closer to coming. All the while, the water rolls down over our heads, and my senses feel like they’re on overload.

I feel her cunt tighten around my cock and know her release is close, so I pump into her body like a wild man. She clings to me, her face buried in my neck until her orgasm tears through her and she sinks her teeth into my earlobe. The combination of pain and pleasure rushes through me, and then a second later, I come, filling her up with all I have.

When we finish, she slumps against me, resting her head on my shoulder while I lean against the tile wall nearby. I’m unsure my legs have the energy to hold us up for much longer, but I don’t care. We can fall to the ground if they give out. It’ll hurt me more than her since I’ll break her fall.

All I care about is how fucking good I feel at this moment.

“That was incredible,” she whispers hoarsely against my neck.

When she leans back to look at me, I nod. “It was. And I think you moaned yourself nearly hoarse.”

“Your neighbors in the next villa are going to think all we do is have sex,” she says, and a hint of a blush turns her cheeks a pale pink.

“I don’t know them, so they can think what they want. Who knows? They may be jealous of us.”

She smiles, and her blush grows deeper. It’s sweet in a way I hadn’t expected from her. I certainly couldn’t have imagined the woman who called me rude when we first met would be blushing after great sex this morning.

“So about that hair washing? You still up for it?”

“Definitely!” she says with excitement flashing in her eyes. “You have no idea how great it feels when someone washes my hair. It’s sort of a secret turn on for me, if I’m being honest.”

“Which you aren’t supposed to be. Remember?”

Covering her face with her hands, she laughs. “I keep forgetting. I’m not used to lying. This is work for me.”

I ease out of her and set her on her feet in front of me. “Well, since you’re forced to work so hard, the least I can do is deliver on that hair washing.”

She spins around and grabs the shampoo the resort left for me. Twisting the top off, she sniffs the bottle and hands it to me. “Coconut. I like that. Okay, do your magic.”

I don’t tell her this, but the only person’s hair I’ve ever washed, other than my younger brother’s when my mother would make us take a bath together when we were little boys, was Melanie what’s-her-name’s hair from high school. That was only because we got freaky with too much honey and whipped cream that night of the prom, and she had a head full of stickiness we had to rinse out before I took her home or her father would have shot me dead on the spot. So I’m not sure how magical this whole hair washing is going to be.

After squeezing a glob of shampoo into my palm, I begin massaging it into her scalp, pretty sure that’s the part women like the most. “Feel good?”

She tilts her head back and sighs. “You have no idea. You really are good at this. I wish the woman who cuts my hair would do it like you do.”

As I work to get the shampoo into all her hair, I chuckle at the image of her hating this part at the salon. “Strange that she doesn’t do this well, isn’t it?”

“She has these huge talons that scrape across my scalp. I’ve told her about it, but she doesn’t try to use her fingertips instead. That’s why you’re so good at this. No fingernails to scratch me.”

I scrub the shampoo for a few minutes more, loving how much she’s enjoying this simple act, before backing away and washing my hands under the shower. “You’re ready for a rinse.”

With a smile, she looks at me as she turns around and steps under the water. “You missed your calling, assuming you aren’t a hair stylist. You could probably offer that as a side gig, and women would pay you good money.”

I naturally want to comment that I don’t need to do anything for money, but since I’m supposed to be lying about who I really am, I simply smile as I watch her rinse all the lather out of her hair. She grabs the bar of soap and washes her face and the rest of her body before moving out from under the water.

---