Page 51 of Knotty, Nice, & Holiday Lights
He clears his throat, those eyes flicking across the tub, then back to mine. “Hey.”
I blink at him, stifle a smile. “Something you need?”
“You.”
His simple answer sends a rush through me. But I smirk at him. “Can it wait until I’m out of the bath? This has been the best part of my day.”
Matthew’s head tilts before he prowls into the bathroom, grips his sweater, and pulls it over his head, letting it drop to the floor. My breath hitches at the view of his chest, so much more chiseled than it had been years ago, that slight smattering of hair covering his pecs, then cinching at the middle before trailing in a line down to disappear into his jeans.
“I’d like to make it even better,” he says, voice dropping low as he keeps getting closer before passing me and sitting on the ledge behind my head. That’s when his hands dip into the water and grip my shoulders, then begin to rub.
I sigh in utter contentment, his strong hands so much better than the water jets had any chance of being. His fingertips dig into my skin and muscles, those thumbs finding just the right spot at the back of my neck and upper shoulder blades, until my sighs turn into moans or appreciation.
“You have no idea how much I needed this,” I breathe.
“I have some idea,” he replies cheekily.
He’s always been so good at this. Told me once he exercises his hands a lot because of his gaming career, using those resistance bands and stuff. And I’ve never been more thankful for that than right now.
“Iz?”
“Hmm?”
“I want to play a game.”
Those words make my thighs squeeze together, my pussy throb, and I know I’ve spilled slick into the bath water.
Still, my response is automatic, like it always has been. “Name the game.”
“The Queen and the Servant.”
My hips rotate beneath the water, making it slosh, the bubbles moving on the waves.
Our “games” had started after a long night together, playing an online fantasy role-playing game. Though the game itself had been all magic and bloody battles, we’d both been so turned on after, he showed up at my apartment, and we continued our own version of the game in my bedroom. All. Night. Long.
It became a staple of our sex life, one we both enjoyed immensely.
My character comes to life in my mind as I turn my head to Matthew behind me. “Help your queen stand, servant.”
When I lift my hand to him, he takes it, rising to leverage me into standing. “Drain the tub.”
He leans down to do just that, never releasing my hand. Once the tub is empty, I nod at the shower wand seated beside the tub spout. “Rinse me.”
When his eyes flick from my foam-covered flesh to the water controls, then back again, my whole body is on fire.
The water turns on, flowing from the wand, and he tests the temperature with his palm. Then, he begins rinsing the suds from my skin, starting with my shoulders, the warm water cascading over my breasts, making my nipples pucker, those mismatched eyes hovering on them as he lets the water flow longer than necessary over the taut buds. Then, he rinses the rest of me, front and back, before aiming the wand at my pussy, letting those little jets pelt my clit a while as I sigh, hips gyrating just a little.
Then the water is off, Matthew returns the wand to its place, and turns to where he’d been sitting to grab the folded towel there.
I spread my arms before he rubs the towel along my skin, drying my arms from hand to shoulder, then my back, before gliding the soft fabric to my breasts, massaging them as he soaks up the water. But he’s done too soon, drying my stomach and legs, before coming up one of my thighs to my pussy and cupping it with his towel-covered hand, using his palm to grind into my clit, forcing my legs apart, making me grip his shoulders so I don’t fall over. The whine I emit is not that of a woman in power, but wanton, no control.
To my frustration, Matthew pulls away, puts the towel down, and takes my hand, this time to help me out of the tub and onto the bath mat below, where I dig my wet toes into the long fibers.
Matthew sweeps his gaze up and down my body, making more goosebumps pop up along my skin than the cool air after a hot bath. His tongue pokes out and runs across his lips. “Does my Queen require anything of me before I fetch her robe?”
I require so much of him…
“You missed a spot drying your Queen.” I turn my back on him and bend at the waist, leaning over the tub with my hands on the side, spreading my legs.
