After unlocking his door, he took me inside and sat me on the bed. He knelt in front of me. His fingers were at the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head. He reached around me and unclasped my bra before letting it fall to the floor. Then he laid me back and finished stripping me. He pulled me back up so I was sitting.
“Let’s get you into a hot shower. Sound good?”
I nodded. My eyelids dropped closed and my chin hit my chest.
“No, no.” He pulled my chin up almost roughly. “No sleeping. Just watch me. Keep those beautiful blues on me, got it?”
He unbuttoned his shirt and threw it down. It was ruined. I saw now that we were both muddy and bloody. He stripped off his pants and tossed them into the pile, and then his boxers. His skin was streaked with dirt. Where were we that was muddy? Before I could figure it out, he pulled me to my feet and led me to his small bathroom. A walk-in shower, enclosed with glass on two sides, took up half the room.
“We’re going to take a long, hot shower.” He reached in and turned the knobs. The room quickly filled with steam.
I shivered and crossed my arms over my chest. I was freezing, though I hadn’t realized it.
Once the temperature was to his liking, he stopped fiddling with the knobs and backed away so I could enter first. I was happy to oblige. I slid past him, grazing his hard body in the small space. The water stung in a good way, opening my pores and replacing ice with heat. The hiss of the water competed with the ringing in my ears. I wanted the hiss to win.
A stream sluiced away from me, a dirty mix of pink and brown against the white tiles. Lincoln walked in behind me and closed the door. He reached around me for a bar of soap and started lathering it as I stood beneath the spray.
“Put your hands on the wall.” His voice wasn’t gruff, but the command had something else in it, something hotter.
I put my palms against the wall beneath the shower head as he smoothed suds down my back, over my ass, and down my legs.
“Mmm. Smells like you.”
“You like it?” He massaged the soap into my skin, erasing anything else.
“The smell or the service?” I asked and giggled. I giggled even more for having giggled in the first place.
“Either.” He finished at my feet, soaping my Achilles.
“Both.”
“Good, because now I’ll need to do your front.” He rose and took my shoulders to turn me toward him.
I obliged and let the water flow down my posterior. I leaned my head back and soaked my hair as he started soaping my front. His touch was firm on my shoulders, thorough as he continued lower. He lingered for only a second too long on each breast before moving on to my stomach. My nipples hardened under his touch. A warm sensation rushed through me that had nothing to do with the water and everything to do with the contact of his flesh on mine. When he got to my pussy, he ran his soapy hand along my mound, then on to my thighs.
“Shit.” His voice was a low growl.
I leaned my head forward. “What?”
“Nothing.” He knelt in front of me, never stopping his work. His dark hair was wet and wavy. Water beaded on his broad shoulders. Some droplets skirted down, joined with others, and then took the plunge down the wide expanse of his back.
He looked up at me, studying his handiwork. I studied him right back, the muscles of his chest and abs giving me a tantalizing show. His shaft hung between his legs, long and hard. Was that his problem? It certainly wasn’t a problem for me. I imagined it between my lips and couldn’t stifle an mmm sound.
“Evan, you can’t make noises like that right now, okay?” He sounded strained.
“I can’t help it. Your dick made me do it.”
Another curse from him as he lathered my ankles.
The ringing in my ears had subsided a bit, though I still felt as fogged as the shower glass. I closed my eyes, enjoying the rubdown.
He stood. “You’re all soaped. Let me get your face and then I’ll wash your hair.”
“You can’t put that soap on my face. Do you know how much I pay for face soap? I bet I spend more on face soap and lotions in one year than the entire net worth of my parents.”
“Well, this one time, you’ll survive. I need to clean that cut.”
I opened my eyes. I have a cut? “I have a cut?”
He gave me a slight nod. “Yes, it’s not bad. But any head wound is going to bleed like a son of a bitch. Close your eyes.”
I trusted him and returned to the foggy darkness as he ran his hands along my face with a feather touch. I felt a sting and flinched when he got to my hairline.
“That’s the cut. I just need to get it good and clean. I’ll bandage it once we’re done here.”