Page 80 of Fighting

I wait and count to three. Then ten.

It’s creeping up toward fifteen when she finally replies.

“Hand me my shampoo. You have something in your hair,” she says, reaching upward attempting to touch my scalp.

The sweet citrus scent I associate with her overtakes me, but her balance is still shaky. Watching her stand on her toes is causing me to worry that maybeshe’llbe the one who slips.

“Let’s switch. I don’t think this is going to work otherwise,” I instruct her while removing her hands from where they linger near my nape.

Tossing my head under the spray, I quickly rinse my hair. I squirt body wash onto a ballet pink loofa and lather it up, then start at her neck and shoulders. When they’re thoroughly clean, Ipull her to me and run the loofah over her back, guiding the suds along her spine and the dip of her hips and ass.

With a kiss to her neck, I spin her, pressing her back to my chest, and get to work on her front, beginning at the soft patch of trimmed dark blond curls.

She flinches, the move reminding me of Satan’s full nickname. Satan’s Bikini Waxer.

“Also, no man should have any opinion on how you maintain any of this. His only thought should be ‘holy shit, she let me near those perfect pink lips and soft curls.’”

She relaxes instantly, her body sinking into mine, and I feel about ten feet tall. Fuck, yes. I love seeing her so at ease.

I return to my task, my hands roving up and down her body, washing over her stomach and chest with care.

Finally satisfied that I’ve cleaned any mess I made, I nibble at her neck making the most ridiculous noises, like she’s my favorite dessert. The laugh that escapes her is a reward in itself, musical and sweet. This is a layer of Nessa I hadn’t expected to be granted access to. This is the part of her I never want to lose.

I detach the removable shower head and move it in a circular motion, rinsing away the remaining suds. With each revolution, I bring the spray lower. Eventually, I get it where I want it, using the water to massage her clit, and she sighs, her knees wobbling. With my free hand, I massage her heavy breasts and pinch her nipples as the water pounds against her. I bring my lips to her neck, peppering kisses, adding in a nip of my teeth here and there.

Those sighs turn into moans, and as they grow louder, I tug on her earlobe.

“Please come for me, gorgeous,” I beg, knowing she gets off on being in control. “I’ll hold you up while you let go. Give me the sounds of your release. Then I’ll carry you to your bed andgive you as many orgasms as you can take. Hell, I’ll watch you take them for yourself. I want to feel you go boneless.”

At that, she gives in, head falling back onto my chest, her nails digging into my forearm as she grasps for dear life.

“Fuck, Mateo. Oh my god, hold me tighter,” she cries.

I obey, palming her breast more firmly, keeping her body pressed to mine.

“Do you feel what you do to me?” I growl as I come alive, my erection thickening against her ass for a second time.

“Fuck, I’m going to…” she pants.

“Please, baby. Please,” I encourage her.

She shakes against me, her legs are barely supporting her. When she slumps, spent, I sweep her into my arms and kiss her forehead. I turn off the water, wrap her in a towel, and place her gently on the counter next to the sink.

Once I’ve dried off and secured my towel at my waist, I pick her up again and stride to her bedroom. Inside, I kick the door shut quietly.

I lay her out in front of me and make a meal of her. I take my time bringing her to orgasm on my tongue, thrusting my fingers deep inside her warm, slick center and curling upward. “Can you give me one more, little monster?”

On a whimper she shakes her head, her hands clutching the sheets. “I need you inside me.”

The world shifts. We’re hanging on the edge of something completely new. I hear those three words in my head, but it’s not the time for them, so I grab a condom from her drawer beside the bed.

“I don’t think I can move my legs,” she whines with the cutest little flush as I lie on my side.

“Are you all done for tonight?” I really hope she isn’t, but I’ll deal, if that’s the case.

In answer, she parts her thighs. I don’t know what to do with this sign of trust, but as I slide home, I let the words I was trying to control come out in a way she can’t understand. Maybe saying it this way can quell the urge to admit that I am madly in love with this little spitfire.

“Mahal kita.” I let the Tagalog words fall from my lips. It’s strange to hear them in this moment, and yet exactly right.

---