Sean returns without his shirt, but he’s still dressed. I can’t hide my disappointment, but I try. Apparently, I do a shitty job. Sean smiles at me. “Hoping for something else?” I shrug. “I hate it when you do that. Say something. Own it. Tell me what you’re thinking, what you’re hoping for. I want to hear.”
“You don’t like it when I shrug? That’s an old man thing to say. You can’t say stuff like that,” I tease. I figure that I look like a drowned rat, but Sean’s gaze says something else. Drowned rats aren’t fuckable and his eyes say that I am. If he gave me a bar of soap I would have dropped it and bent over just to see what he’d do. No wonder he took the soap away.
Reaching forward, he wets a washcloth before putting soap on it. “Hands,” he says, and I give them to him, holding them out like he’s going to handcuff me. Sean flips them over and washes each one carefully, while he speaks. “I am old. Besides, you know your mind. I wish you weren’t so afraid to speak it.”
I nearly double over with laughter. “You think that’s the problem? That I don’t want to tell you what I think? I can tell you. Believe me, that’s not it.”
“Okay,” he says, as he abandons the washcloth and dumps more shower gel into his hands, “tell me where you wanted me to kiss you before.” His palms land on my upper arms and work the gel into a lather. Oh my God, it feels good.
“I don’t know. I hadn’t decided. Either right breast or, uh—”
“Say it.” His voice is commanding, like he’ll whip me if I don’t confess this second.
“Between my legs?” Why did that sound like a question?
Sean smirks as his hands rub soap over my stomach and up to my ribs. “I can get you to say exactly what you’re thinking without any hesitation at all. I just—”
That makes me laugh. “No you can’t. That’s a bunch of bullsheeee.” My voice jumps an octave when his fingers wrap around my nipples and squeeze. My chin drops and I squeal as my back arches toward his hands. The touch is pure agony because he keeps his distance on the other side of the tub. I can’t rock my hips against his and there’s no outlet for the torture between my legs.
“What were you saying?” Sean smiles devilishly as water splashes up onto his bare chest. The only thing I can think about is licking each drop off with my tongue. I have no idea what he was talking about. “Oh, yes, tell me where you wanted my mouth during that kiss.” He rubs his fingers, pressing gently, watching my eyes as he does.
My mouth opens into a wide O and I squeak. “Between my legs.”
He shakes his head. “Not good enough.” His fingers clamp down like vices on my tender flesh.
Gasping, I try to pull away from him, but it just makes it worse. Pleasure and pain responses are firing through my brain like a lightning storm. He needs to let go or do more to sate my lust. Sean catches my eye and is watching me closely. I know he likes to see the pain dancing across my face, but he doesn’t take things too far. Not this time.
I’m making noises that will haunt me in daylight, and am close to hopping—what’s that about?—but I don’t answer him the way he wants, so he starts to twist. Oh. My. God. Suddenly the shower feels like fingers all over my skin and I gasp again and again as he tightens his grip. Coils of heat shoot through my core and my knees buckle, but Sean doesn’t allow me to dip. He holds me in place by my breasts, with his dark eyes on my face, fixated, and expressionless.
“Tell me,” he commands, as his hands twist both nipples in the same direction while increasing the pressure. I want to say it. I do, but I can’t talk like that when I’m not in the heat of the moment. It’s wrong or something. But my poor tatas are going to be stuck in a corkscrew shape if I don’t talk soon. “Say it.” He commands me again and twists the other way, increasing pressure as he does so.
“Pussy!” I blurt out. “I wanted you to kiss my pussy and lick me--hard.” The last word catches in my throat. I don’t look up at him. Saying stuff like that, out loud, to Sean, is unthinkable. I’m caught between pleasure and pain, somewhere between heaven and hell, with this beautifully twisted man watching streams of water flow over my body.
Sean doesn’t show any emotion, instead he slowly untwists my nipples and eases up on the pressure, but he doesn’t let go. I glance up at him. As if he can read my mind, he explains, “It’ll hurt more if I just let go.”
“More than before?”
He nods and then asks, “Why can’t you just take what you want?”