Page 133 of Red Marked

My dick starts to go hard, so I walk to the coffee shop, unable to get the grin off my face.

39

Star

“You do know I’ve showered before? I know how to wash myself, Flint,” I tell him, my voice already a little rough.

“I’m sure you have. Washing yourself is no fun.” Flint squirts soap into his hands, lathers up, and rubs my back. Then he leans in and kisses me.

It’s soft and sensual. Then he plants kisses down my jaw, licking a slow path on my neck while both soapy palms glide over my breasts. His thumbs circle my nipples until they’re tight, aching peaks. He kisses me full on the mouth again. This time deep and claiming, then pulls back just enough to watch my face as his hands keep roaming. Down my ribs. Over the flare of my hips. Around to cup my ass, kneading, spreading me slightly so the water runs between my cheeks.

“Flint.”

“Mmmmm.”

“You’re being very thorough.”

“Yes, I am.” His mouth is right at my ear, voice low and rough. One soapy hand slips between my thighs and glides over my pussy in a single, unhurried stroke. His fingers part me, sliding through the slick heat. “I should be interviewing you for the position.”

“We can pretend this is the interview.”

“Nope. It’s going to be official.”

“You’re making me nervous.”

I grab the body wash and go at him the same way, only I don’t have his patience. My hands map the hard planes of his chest, the thick muscles of his shoulders, the ridged abs that tighten under my touch. I wrap my fist around his thick cock and feel it twitch against my palm. I get two slow strokes in, thumb sweeping over the head, before he catches my wrist and pins my hand flat to the tiles behind me.

“You’re good with your hands.”

He kisses me again, his tongue stroking against mine while one big hand cups the back of my head and the other presses flat between my shoulder blades, holding me flush against him. Soap runs off us. His cock is trapped between our bellies, thick and insistent. I grind against it, and he growls into my mouth, the sound vibrating through both of us, but he doesn’t stop kissing me. Doesn’t give me more. Just keeps me there, aching, while the water pours over us. Every shift of his body teases my nipples and the throbbing place between my legs.

When he finally lifts his head, his eyes are a deep blue. They’re hazy with desire.

He shuts the water off. Then he picks me up, pushes the shower door open, and puts me on the bathmat.

He grabs one of the fluffy towels.

It’s thick and warm, but his hands are warmer. He works the soft fabric over my shoulders, down my arms, then discards it entirely so he can use his mouth instead. Slow kisses along my collarbone. A long lick between my breasts, tongue lingering on the undersides where water still beads. He nips the outer curve of one breast, then soothes it with his lips before drawing a tight nipple into his mouth and sucking hard enough to make my knees want to buckle. His dark tattoos shift over flexing muscle as he kneels again, drying the insides of my thighs with deliberate strokes of his tongue, nipping higher each time until I’m trembling and gripping his short dark hair.

He lifts me easily, puts me on the edge of the bathtub, and spreads my thighs wide.

“I think you might have missed a spot,” I tell him in a husky voice.

“Oh really?”

I giggle, but it turns into a moan when he leans down and suckles my clit. His mouth feels hot.

Then he licks and laves at the bundle of nerves before sucking on it again. He does it again. And again. He isn’t in a hurry. Broad, flat strokes, then the tip of his tongue teasing at my clit, then pulling back to lick around it instead of on it, until I’m rocking against his face, trying to get it where I want it.

“You’re good at this. Holy shit! So good.” I grab a handful of his hair, holding him in place.

He gives it to me. He seals his mouth over my clit and sucks, and it’s so good my eyes roll back. My heels drum against the side of the tub. I’m making sounds I’ve never made, high and thin, and he pushes one finger into me, then two, and pumps them slowly while he works me with his tongue.

It builds fast. Faster than it should. My belly goes tight, my thighs start to tremble against his shoulders, and I can feel my orgasm coming, that hot, bright edge of it. I tip my hips up and…

He’s gone.

“No. No, no.” I grab for him, but Flint is already standing. “Don’t you dare leave me hanging, you bastard!” I’m smiling.