Beatrice and Douglas by Kelly Lucille

this off and head for your room
to take the shower.  That way I don’t get sawdust all over the bed we’ll
be bouncing around in.”
    “I’m not sure if I find your exhibitionist tendencies the most
disturbing or your arrogant assumptions that you can cart me around like a
blow-up doll, ready and willing to do your bidding.”
    He raised his arm and dropped the other boot, that sexy
smirk back on his lips.  “Blow-up doll was not what I had in mind, but I
have to admit I like carrying you around.  Makes me feel strong and
manly.”  He backed up enough to turn and sit down on the bed, and start on
his own boots.  She sat up and crossed her legs, watching him. 
    “You could help me with these,” he grouched, finally tossing
one away,  then reaching for the other. 
    She snorted, “Then you’d really get the wrong idea. 
What next?  The little woman massaging your feet?”
    He turned and lunged as soon as he had the last boot
off.  He had her flat on her back beneath him before she could
squeak.  “When I have you massage something, it won’t be my feet.” 
He pressed a hard kiss to her lips that left her breathless and shot to his
feet again.  He stood towering above her, his eyes hot on hers and started
working on his belt.  
    Beatrice sat back up slowly, watching him pull his belt off,
then reach behind his shoulders and tug off both layers of shirt in one swoop
and a shower of wood dust.  She waved the air in front of her face and
laughed.  “So romantic, Bruce . . . I had no idea you were this kind of
suave.”
    He deliberately shook his hair out over her, making her
scoot up the bed and laugh.  “You are such an ass.”
    He answered with a wicked smile and then pulled his pants
off, leaving that hard body in nothing but black boxer briefs that tented most
salaciously.  Right away, Beatrice felt the breath leave her lungs and her
mouth start to water.  Every part of her that had been on a slow simmer
immediately went into a hot tingle.
    Then he was reaching for her across the bed, but remembering
his plan of stripping down and then going to her room, she rolled away and off
the other side.  She had the door open and was through before she heard
him hit the doorjamb behind her.  Her own locks down the hall thwarted her. 
She had the key in and the locks turned, but he was on her before she could get
through the door.  Still she had made it to her room with most of her
clothes on, and no worries about streaking through the halls, at least on her
part.  Then she was up and over his broad shoulders, and he was shoving
the door closed and heading for the shower.  “No need to be so
impatient.  I’ll get you there.”
    That’s what I’m afraid of.
    ***
    The bathroom had seemed big enough until Douglas was sharing
it with her.  He set her on her feet and studied her again.
    “Still thinking?”
    She shrugged, trying very hard not to be distracted by his
superior chest and rock hard abs.  Not to mention that impressive tent in
his Calvin Klein’s.  “I seem to be in a temporary state of shock.”
 He looked big and wide and totally masculine against the overly frilly
Victorian chintz.  “I’m still trying to decide if I want to reward your
bad behavior downstairs by allowing liberties in the shower.”
    His eyebrow went up arrogantly.  Talk about
obnoxious .  Then he pulled off his boxer briefs and was suddenly
standing naked before her in all his glory.  Unfair.
    She was staring, she knew it, she just couldn’t seem to
stop.  Her voice was breathless when she finally spoke.  Breathless,
and pathetically transparent.  “I suppose if I allow you to service me in
the shower, its more punishment than reward.”
    He picked her up with an arm around her waist and stepped
into the shower with her plastered fully clothed against his naked chest. 
“I’m all about the service.”  He sat her down in the tiny shower and
proceeded to strip her bare.  As soon as he had tossed