Page 61 of The Worst Guy Ever
“Soon, wife.” I know I’m playing a dangerous game, pushing her buttons like this. I press a kiss just below her belly button and rise, leading her into the water.
Underneath the spray, she turns away from me, and I swear she trembles slightly. She closes her eyes, letting the water rain down over her face, and in this moment she looks so vulnerable, so unlike any of the versions of herself she’s shown me so far.
Although I’m hard as hell, I realise that even if we left here without doing a single sexual thing that would be enough for me. I thought I’d bring her back to this room to finish what we started, and spend the night getting her off, but right now all I want to do is hold her.
So that’s what I do.
Stepping into the space behind her, I wrap my arms around where she has hers held in front of her chest, and pull her back against my body. My chin falls to her shoulder and her head tilts to rest softly against mine. Water rains down from above, the high pressure easing some tension I hadn’t noticed I’ve been carrying in my shoulders. My arms rise and fall with the cycle of her breath. I watch the water cascading over her tits, but apart from that, I don’t move. Being this close to her, this still, is a peace I haven’t felt in a long time, maybe ever.
“This is so nice,” I moan, angling my neck to get the pressure on a sore spot. “Just this. I swear, we don’t have to do anything.”
“I’m OK.” Hattie inhales sharply, spins in my arms, and reaches down to grip my shaft in her warm, wet hand. “I’m ready.”
Having her hand wrapped around me, after months of dreaming about it, gets me even harder. As does the way she’s staring at it, biting down on her lip while her slim fingers tease me with slow strokes.
Much to my dick’s dismay, I slide her hand away and settle it on my chest, along with her other one. “You’re not in charge tonight. Your job is to relax, and let me take care of you.”
I reach behind her for the shower gel, dripping something woody and exotic into my hand then lathering it between my palms. The best thing about fancy hotels is their abundance of luxury toiletries, and I plan to use plenty to help her unwind.
Hattie drops her forehead to my chest. I hook her hair out of the way with my thumb, sending a shiver down her spine when it sweeps along the nape of her neck.
I take my time lathering her up, and with every minute that passes she softens more. She doesn’t speak, barely looks at me, but that’s OK. I want her to get lost in the feeling of my worship. I close my eyes and get lost in her too, letting my hands roam, but never too close to where I’m most desperate for her. My touches vary between firm and featherlight, teasing their way over the toned muscles of her back, down over her hip bones and back up to squeeze that perfect ass.
Soon she’s reaching for me again but I turn her away and press her face first against the wall. I pin her wrists at the base of her spine and Hattie tilts her hips, pushing back, rubbing harder against me. I nearly come right then from the friction between us, this needy woman searching for release. I drive my hips forward, pressing even more of her body into the tile.
“Does that feel good? The cold against your nipples?” I take her earlobe between my teeth.
“Yes,” she hisses and I fist her hair, pulling her head to arch her back.
“Rub them against the wall.”
She whimpers at the sensation, rolling her slick body between me and the tile, and I groan, pocketing this memory for later.
“Please, Rob,” she chokes out.
“Please what, angel?”
“Please fuck me.”
Those three little words, I’ve been dying to hear them, but I never thought they’d make my head spin quite like they do. It takes every ounce of strength to pull away but I have to. I’m not fucking her here. I need her in that bed, laid out for me to explore, to feast on, but I’m only a man, and if she says it again I won’t be able to resist a second time.
I leave her there, gasping, shaking, holding onto the wall, and grab the detachable showerhead so I can rinse us off.
“Turn around.”
Hattie is always beautiful, but right now, head tipped back, chest heaving as rivulets trickle all over her, she’s a fucking bombshell. Rinsing off her legs, I’m tempted to angle the showerhead and make her come right here in front of me, but that’s not in the plan. I need to be inside her the first time I make her come. The orgasm I owe her belongs to my dick.
I turn off the water and step out to grab towels, quickly wrapping one around my waist then the other around her shoulders.
“I can dry myself,” she says, shoving me away, but I grip both sides and yank her in close. Fighting with Hattie gets my blood pumping like nothing else, but I need to rein it in unless I want another one of her specialty kicks in the dick.
“Let me.” I pull her out of the shower and kiss her neck softly, rubbing the towel over her back and up and down her arms. I stand behind her to dry her hair, then spin her and drop to my knees again. Lifting one leg, I rest her foot on my thigh, and only when I’m satisfied that she’s thoroughly dry do I lead her through to the bedroom.
“Lie down. On your front.”
She does as she’s told, scooping her hair to one side and settling into position with her head resting on her palms. On the bedside table is a bottle of oil in the same scent as the shower gel, and I warm it in my palms before spreading it over her back and her shoulders, sweeping down over the slope of her gorgeous backside, on and on until I reach her ankles.
I could spend hours running my hands up and down her shapely calves, the firm muscles of her thighs. Could get high on the way her body reacts when my fingers graze the softer skin on the inside of them, the quiet moans she makes when my touch grows firmer. Climbing onto the bed, I straddle her and force myself to focus my attention on her back, and not the incredible view of my erection resting between her cheeks.
