“Here, let me wash you.”
Before she could protest, he began, and she relaxed even more under his gentle attentions. Byron dragged the sponge gently along her limbs, leaving a soapy trail in its wake. No one had ever given her a bath before. It was somewhere between sexual and nurturing. The languor washed over her yet again—her eyes closed, and she leaned back even more, savoring his touch.
And then the mood shifted.
Somehow, the sponge slipped from his hands. Instead, Byron ran his fingers all over her body, touching, squeezing. Byron cupped her breasts, plucked at her nipples, rolling them between his coaxing fingertips.
Then she felt his erection, probing against her backside. It rested against her, large and hard and pulsing, inexplicably more blistering hot than the water surrounding them.
Byron ground his dick into her—a hot, thick slide. Then she was moving against him, arching her back, quivering.
He pressed a hand between her legs, slipping up her thighs and sliding against her swollen sex. Jane gasped as she rolled her hips, seeking more contact. Byron obliged her, stroking her skillfully—applying a wonderful pressure, working her higher and higher. All the while, Byron glided his cock against her. Water splashed over the side of the tub, extinguishing some of the candles.
Jane moaned, on the threshold of an explosive climax. She could feel it bubbling up inside her—so close, ready to shatter. Other lovers had stroked her, made her orgasm, but they didn’t have Byron’s skill. His hand was even better than Jane’s own fingers.
Jane shut her eyes.
“Oh, yes, darlin’. I want you to come for me,” he rasped into her ear. Then Byron sucked and bit the skin on the back of her neck.
Jane trembled.
His fingers were more aggressive, teasing, stroking her swollen flesh, demanding a response. And she swayed against him, the heel of his hand abrading her clit. When she couldn’t stand it anymore, she knocked his hand from between her legs and then turned in his arms, straddling his leg.
She pressed her forehead to his, their noses touching, mouths meeting. And then she rode his thigh, looking deep into his eyes. Byron gripped her waist, holding her in place as she wriggled.
His cock was thick and hard, resting against his abdomen, throbbing and scorching her skin. He shifted in the tub so he could suck a nipple into his mouth, edging it with his teeth and then sucking so hard it made her whimper. Jane threw her head back, losing herself in the moment, the momentum.
“Come for me.” And then he locked eyes with her.
She couldn’t hold back anymore. With one long slippery slide, the orgasm smashed through her body.
With an answering shout, Byron jerked against her stomach, sluicing them both with his come.
A long time passed as they both gasped for breath and came back to their senses.
“That was….” Jane couldn’t form the words.
“Mind-blowin’? Worth the wait?” Byron hugged her tight.
“Yes.” God help me, the answer is yes.
He laughed delightedly. “Well, I kept my promise. Nothin’ was inserted.”
Jane swatted his arm.
After polishing off the cheese fondue in a post-coital fever, they reclined in front of the fire, wrapped in blankets, lying on pillows. Byron had brought his copy of Gone with the Wind with them, and they’d watched the last of it together as they ate.
Somehow, she was still naked and so was he. Yet, Jane didn’t have the urge to pull away.
What does all of this mean?
Maybe it was the extreme situation they were in. Drama had forged some sort of unnatural closeness. The pressure was getting to her and she needed a protector. Byron made her feel safe and secure because he had an alpha male protector sort of presence.
Or maybe it was his hidden side, the pain boiling beneath the surface that she found so intriguing.
Regardless, she’d slept with one client, was actively working against another, and yet she felt wonderful. Her morals were crumbling, but she didn’t miss them.
Jane took a big sip of champagne. This is total chaos.
“What are you thinkin’, Legal Eagle?”
“Still trying to wrap my head around the situation. I never thought you and I would have sex.”
“Hate to break it to you, darlin’, but we didn’t.” Byron nudged her shoulder with his own. “Yet.”
“Oh, yes, we did.” She pointed to the tub.
“We got close but no, uh, cigar.”
“Only if you define sex as penetration.”
“In this case, I do. You in the mood for dessert?” Byron pointed to the chocolate fondue they hadn’t yet touched. Next to it was a platter of cubed pound cake, tiny pretzels, and bite-sized fruit.
“I’m so full I’d burst.” With a groan, she placed a hand on her stomach.