Page 30 of Skin Deep

Chapter10

Gigi

Itried to relax while the water started to run, but my body was still jittery. His scent seemed even stronger in the air from the humidity of the shower. And his body was fresh in my mind. He seemed like one of those men who were just naturally fit. Maybe he ran some to keep healthy, but everything about him was perfectly proportional. Except foril mostro.

The thought of water running down his body, and probably what he was doing to himself…I followed the male-scented clouds that puffed out from underneath the bathroom door. I made no sound when I opened it and tiptoed in.

It was wrong. I knew it. But somehow, I couldn’t seem to help myself.

The lights were still out. The candles I’d lit earlier swayed in the darkness, highlighting the steam and him.

He faced the spray, but the water barely touched him, since he stood with his back to the tile wall. The back of his head rested against it, but his hips were pushed toward the shower. His cock was in his hand. He wasn’t moving fast. He had it gripped in his palm, barely able to contain it, and was moving slowly. From base to tip.

My lower stomach felt weighted. The pulse between my legs throbbed. So did my nipples. I was so wet that my thighs were soaked.

“Who are you thinking of?” I whispered.

His hand stilled mid-stroke. He turned to look at me. I wasn’t sure what was burning hotter, the look in his eyes or the candles. Water dripped from his hair into his face. It seemed as hot as the steam.

“You ever heard of knocking?”

“No,” I said. “Not when I want something. I go in and take it. Do you want me to leave?”

Our eyes held.

“You,” he said, and his hand started to move again, stopping and squeezing when he came to the tip. “You’re a fucking fantasy.”

At least he didn’t feed me some bullshit line, like how I was so beautiful, but he only wanted me for me. He didn’t even know me. But I knew him. I seemed to know him the moment my eyes found him.

I slipped out of the nightshirt he’d given me and let it fall to the floor. I stood by the door for a second, hand on it. I wasn’t such a bitch that I wouldn’t ask for permission to go this far.

He nodded once and opened the door for me.

The water was hot. It fell over me in a lava flow. I could see how red his skin was. Flushed from the heat. I leaned my head back, letting it flow over my hair as I reached out for the soap. I lathered it up in my hands and started to wash my body. I started at my neck, then moved to my breasts. Taking more time when I went around my nipples.

A breathy noise escaped from my mouth, and a deeper one from his met it.

My hand moved even further down, washing my thighs. I was teasing myself, but I could barely stand it. I had the strongest urge to touch myself. To rub my fingers between my legs, to find that bundle of nerves and relieve myself of the throbbing, as he watched me. As I watched him pleasure himself. Because I had a feeling that was all I was going to get from him tonight.

He wasn’t ready to step out of the box he’d built for himself.

I opened my eyes and almost melted into a puddle. His eyes were hooded, the water steadily dripping down his face. His hair was wild and falling almost into his eyes. In this light, it was black. His mouth was parted. He was so hard that he couldn’t grow another inch, or he might burst through his skin.

He was the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen.

I licked my lips, wanting to lick the water from his body. To run my tongue up and down until I took him in my mouth. Instead, I leaned in slowly, my mouth close to his ear.

“You can watch from the stands,” I said, “or you can play with me.”

I slowly moved away from him, our stare pulling as I did. It never broke.

“Touch yourself,” he said, as he got a harder grip on his cock and started to stroke it even faster.

A meaty groan left his mouth as I started to tease my nipple and then twist it. I loved the push and pull between pleasure and pain. I just hated when it ended on pain. I slid my hand between my legs and gave in to the ache. The throbbing.

His rhythm matched mine. When I started to pick up, so did he. But our eyes. They were locked in hooded stares. I wanted to scream out. To tell him to fuck me. Because it felt like I needed it more than the air that I breathed. Maybe he sensed that from me.

I needed more. I needed his touch.

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