Page 95 of Dare To Fall

“Eli.”

“Yes, Hellcat?”

Her eyes fly open and find me, a blush creeping up over her throat and cheeks. I hide a smile as the realization hits that she isn’t calling for me but moaning my name while she makes herself come. She blinks, breasts lifting with her quick breaths as she shudders through her climax.

“Wash my hair.” Her voice is shaky.

I push away from the wall and stroll toward her. “You’ll have to sit up.”

She moves, splashing water over the sides of the tub. “Wait. First, I want you to wash me.”

I nod and reach for the washcloth.

“No, use your hands.” She hands me the liquid soap.

“You want my hands on your body, Hellcat?”

“I want you to wash me like a good boy.”

I laugh quietly at that. There’s a brightness in her eyes, a slight tilt to her lips, as she looks at me, challenges me to do what she wants.

I nod. “Okay then.”

I peel off my hoodie and toss it in the corner, take the soap from her waiting hand and squeeze some into my palm and then smooth it over her shoulder. She leans forward, and I gather up her hair with my free hand so I can soap over her back, and then let the damp heavy weight of it fall. It spreads out in the water behind her.

My fingers stroke over her skin, across her shoulders, over her arms, and slide down her spine. My fingertips skim over the sides of her breasts, across her stomach, dip into her navel.

The water sloshes over the sides again as she shifts so she can lay back, her eyes drifting closed. “Lower.”

My fingers slip lower. Over her hips, her thighs, down to her knees.

I’m not washing her anymore. I’m not even pretending. I’m remembering her curves, her shape, all those little secret places that shouldn’t be erogenous zones but are. The backs of her knees, her calves, the soles of her feet.

She sighs, not stopping me when I make my way back up her legs, my palms smoothing over her inner thighs. My tongue snakes out to toy with my lip ring as I slip one finger between the soft puffy lips of her pussy. She lets out a small moan when I make contact with her clit, and then she sits bolt upright, knocking my hand away.

“No, I never gave you permission to do that. Go and wait in the other room.”

“Whatever you want, Kitten.” I dry my hands on a towel, grab my hoodie, and walk out of the bathroom.

My dick is trying to escape from my sweats. It’s so fucking hard and sensitive that I’m pretty sure just one touch from her and I’ll be done. My lips twitch at the thought. She’d get such a fucking kick out of knowing that. I’m not sure she truly understands how deeply embedded under my skin she is.

I settle onto the couch and pick up the sketchpad I left on the coffee table. I’m sketching an image of her in the tub when she comes out, skin still flushed, wrapped in one of the fluffy towels.

“Go and pick out some clothes for me.”

I stand. “Anything in particular?”

“Something comfortable.”

I toss the pad down and walk down to her bedroom. It takes me a couple of minutes to pick out clothes, but I finally settle on a pair of shorts and a strappy top. I think they’re pajamas. She didn’t mention underwear, so I skip those. She’ll learn quickly that when she gives me orders, she’s going to need to be specific, or I will take advantage of the loopholes she leaves me.

She’s standing where I left her when I return to the living room. My sketchpad is in her hand, and she’s looking at the drawing I’ve half finished.

“Why do you keep drawing me?”

I hand her the shorts and top. “Because you’re perfect.”

“Nobody’s perfect.” She drops the towel and I swallow a groan.

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