Page 69 of Sexting His Son's Ex
“Wow,” she awes, looking at every corner. From the high ceilings, to the marble floor, to the soaking tub and the showerthat can fit five people in it. She runs over to the tub and squeals. “Oh my God, I can’t wait to soak in this.” She glances around and frowns, the excitement fleeing.
“What’s wrong?” I wrap my arms around her from the back, placing a kiss on the curve of her neck.
“You don’t use this, do you? You have no bubble bath or salts or oils.”
I chuckle, spinning her in my arms so I can look at her. “No, I don’t, but I’ll get you everything you need to enjoy that tub. I only take showers.”
She boops my nose.
No one ever boops my nose.
“Well, you’re with me now and that means, you’ll be taking a bath.”
“Is that so?” I back her into the shower stall, her back hitting the wall.
“Yep. We can even drink some wine, relax, the perfect way to end the day. Sounds nice, doesn’t it?”
“Only because it’s with you.” I turn the shower on, spraying us with warm water. “I’ll do anything with you, Jovie. Everything.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her I love her. I don’t want to scare her away and decide to swallow the words, and they burn on the way down. I move her under the spray, tilting her head back to get her hair wet, wanting to wash her myself.
She’s been taking care of herself long enough. It’s time for someone else to do it. She deserves to be cherished and cared for. I massage her scalp and she groans, her eyes closing as sheenjoys the touch. I squirt shampoo into my palm, shampoo that smells like men, so I’ll definitely need to add what she wants here. Washing her hair, I do my best to keep the suds away from her eyes, then create a barrier over her forehead with one hand while the water rinses the shampoo away.
Grabbing the loofah, I squirt body wash on it, then drag it across her chest, washing away all the dried sweat and come from her body.
Devastating.
I wash her breasts, stomach, then kneel to do the same to her legs. She spins around and I move her hair to one shoulder, adorning her backside. When she spins around to face me again, I’m gentle when I reach between her legs to wash.
She hisses.
“Tender? Sore?”
“A little,” she replies.
“That’s normal, but we’ll need to take it easy for a few days, so you have time to heal.”
“A few days?” She pouts.
“Don’t do that. Don’t use that cute sad face on me. I’m too much of a pushover when it comes to you,” I joke, trying to remember the last time I felt this happy. “I won’t be able to resist if you keep it up.”
“Maybe I don’t want you to resist,” she replies.
I look up at her, slowly standing to my full height, towering over her, and she blinks her wet lashes at me.
Crowding her space, I raise my arm to rinse the loofah of the suds, drop it to the ground, and washing off the soap from her body. I brush my thumb over the finger bruises I left on her hips last night.
“Do these hurt? I didn’t realize how hard I grabbed you.”
She shakes her head, a soft smile tugging the corners of her lips. It’s hard to focus when she looks at me like that. I could get lost in her happiness, her eyes, her entire presence, and I’d never want to be found.
“Good. I don’t want to hurt you.” I trace every bruise. “Which is why we have to wait until you are so sore.” I cup her pussy, massaging my fingers through her lips.
She gasps, standing on her tiptoes from the sudden grip.
“Do you understand me?” Water rushes down my lips and my filthy girl opens her mouth, drinking every drop that falls onto her tongue.
I growl in contempt, doing my best to reel in my desire. In the next second, my hand is a necklace around her neck, pushing her against the wall.
