Page 55 of Body Shot

“Put your arms around me, beautiful girl.” He waits patiently for me to move, and I cautiously wrap my arms around his waist. His strong arms close around me and to my surprise, we don’t move. He just holds me, resting his chin on the top of my head. The water sluices over us, but he’s in no hurry to do anything but hold me.

There’s something surprisingly soothing about standing here like this with him. The side of my face is resting against his chest, the water is the perfect temperature and pressure, and the strength emanating from him suddenly makes me feel strong too.

I can do this.

I can be with a kind, gentle gorgeous man who’s sporting the mother of all erections. For me. He’s hard forme, and I feel a moment of pride.

“Better?” he asks after what seems like an eternity.

“Yes.”

“I’m going to wash you now, okay?”

“Wash me?” I finally lift my head, looking into his eyes.

He arches one golden brow, holding up a thick, soft, blue washcloth. “You know, with soap and stuff? Because we got gross and sticky today?”

I chuckle. “Well, yeah, but you don’t have to wash me.”

“Except I want to. Is that okay?”

“Yes.”

Fuck, yes.

Having his hands on me is rapidly becoming one of my favorite things.

He starts at the top, washing my arms and chest. He trails the cloth, and his fingers, along my stomach before bending his head to slowly flick his tongue back and forth across one nipple.

“Anders…”

“Tell me what you like.”

I suck in a breath as he closes his mouth around my nipple and gently sucks. My fingers automatically move to his hair.

“More,” I whisper.

He bites down a little harder and I arch my chest into his mouth.

“Oh, hell, that’s good.” I truly can’t breathe.

Being this intimate with him is incredibly sensual.

My body is on high alert, discovering new sensations with everything he does.

He moves to the other breast, using his free hand to pluck and pinch the first nipple. He tugs harder and harder, until I cry out, and finally backs off. I’m not sure what’s more frustrating—how rough he was being or the fact that he’s stopped.

But watching him drop to his haunches in front of me is erotic as fuck.

I’m not capable of thought, much less movement, as he lathers the cloth again and then gently begins to work his way down my thighs and calves, using his hands to help wash awaythe suds. He moves down one side and then up the other, and before I realize what’s happening, the cloth is between my legs.

He’s touching me.

Right. There.

Using the washcloth as a barrier, but his fingers are there too.

And now his mouth.

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