Page 60 of Rock

“You’re staring,” she murmured.

“I’m going to come in my jeans.”

She giggled. “Take them off?”

He shook his head. “Not now. Let me wash you first.” He took her hand and helped her into the tub.

His cock pressed hard against his fly, but he ignored it. He set a folded towel on the tile and dropped to his knees to wash his Little girl.

Lyla sighed contentedly and let him take care of her. She closed her eyes as he poured water over her head. It had been so long since he’d washed someone, but it felt like home. Like he’d been waiting for her, and now she was here.

He took his time, letting his hands gently scrub her scalp, paying close attention to not put too much pressure on the back of her head. He moved to her arms and legs and, finally, her torso and pussy.

They didn’t speak while he washed her. It was a reverent experience. She parted her thighs for him and moaned softly when he touched her pussy with the washcloth.

When he was done, he let the water out and helped her step out of the tub. He patted her dry and wrung out her hair before combing through it. “You’re a goddess,” he told her as he set the comb down.

“I guess that makes you a god.” She turned in his arms, grabbed the hem of his shirt, and pulled it over his head. “You have more tattoos than you had then.”

“Yeah.”

She ran her fingers over them, examining his chest and arms.

He held his breath as she lowered her gaze to the tattoo under his pec. “What’s this one?”

He bit his lip and stared at the top of her head. Maybe he should lie. Make something up. But he couldn’t lie to her. Not ever.

She lifted her gaze. “Rock? It looks like a sketchbook.”

He nodded. “It is.”

She leaned closer and spread her fingers around the tattoo, getting a better view. “Jesus, Rock. Oh my God.”

He pursed his lips.

“My name is in this. You tattooed my name on your body. When did you do this?”

He drew in a breath. “That summer.”

She set her forehead against his pecs, breathing heavily before kissing the tattoo. “I can’t… Did anyone ever know? The letters are so subtle.”

“No. No one ever knew.” He understood what she’d meant. Had his wife known?

She had not. He’d told her the tattoo was from an art phase. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her. There had been no need. When he’d been with Kathy, she’d been his world. He had never cheated on her, not even emotionally. He’d loved her. Their love hadn’t been like the love he felt for Lyla. It had been different, but he’d loved her and mourned deeply when she’d left them.

Lyla moved her hands to the button on his jeans and popped it open, lowering the zipper moments later.

He didn’t move or deny her whatever she needed. He simply stroked her hair while she lowered his jeans over his hips, taking his briefs with them.

His cock popped free, and he tried to focus on anything else in the world to keep from coming without her touching him. Ithad been so fucking long since he’d been with a woman, and this wasn’t some random woman. This was his Little Lyla. His Little girl. His world. For the rest of his days, he would worship her in every way she would let him.

He suddenly realized he didn’t care if she never wanted to hone her Little side. It would change nothing. He loved her so deeply that he would do anything for her, including tamping down the Daddy side of him that wanted to push to the surface. If Lyla couldn’t do it, he would never pressure her. He would love her until they died wrapped in each other’s arms. Age play be damned.

Lyla abandoned his jeans when they were around his knees and reached up to stroke his cock. “I remember this,” she murmured.

He chuckled lightly and reached down to stroke a finger over her nipple. “I remember this.”

“You changed my life that night,” she said reverently. “You ruined me.”

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