that’s for certain.
An hour later when the water had grown too chilly for
comfort, she switched off the jets and opened the drain. A fluffy cotton towel
awaited her on a warming rack and she thanked the Lord again for her good
fortune. How she wished she had fancy nightwear to match her decadent
surroundings. A cotton tank and a pair of shorts just screamed white trash,
especially as she slid onto the silk sheets and rested her head on the
overstuffed pillows.
Within seconds the day’s events sucked her into the dark
abyss of mindlessness, aiding her in rejuvenating her spirit and ridding her of
the stress of the last few months. The contentment that seeped into her bones
heated and thickened, pooling into her womb to simmer like a pot of dulce de
leche on the stove. Fire licked up her belly to tease her nipples and a
sheen of sweat broke out across her skin.
Her eyes flew open on a gasp and she realized her hand was
nestled between the slick folds of her sex. The feel of her own pussy was not
an unusual one, but usually she was conscious when working her body to an
explosive orgasm. Her gaze flew wildly around the room and found nothing but
furniture and shadows while her breath whooshed in and out as if she had been
running for her life.
What the hell had she been dreaming of to have her on the
cusp of oblivion so readily? For Pete’s sake, her head had just hit the
pillows.
Bale. It had to be. That bathtub was made for sensual
indulgence and there would be nothing more indulgent than seeing that muscled
body of his lounging back in the tub with bubbles hiding and revealing all his
gloriously male bits.
She moaned and thumbed the swollen bud of her clit as the
images bombarded her mind. What harm could there be in giving in to a little
bit of fantasy? It’s not as if Bale would ever find out just how nasty her
imagination ran.
Would he let her soap up his muscles and allow her full
access to whatever she wanted to touch? Would he encourage her to straddle his
thighs and guide her hips up and down as he impaled her on his cock? Or would
he take her in the shower with nothing but him and her in the steamy enclosure
and all five showerheads roaring at full blast? His arms were so strong he’d
have no problem lifting her up to pin her back against the chilly tile.
Ripples rolled up her belly as she imagined the sight of her
legs wrapped around his lean waist as his hips bucked and the cheeks of his ass
flexed. The skin of his back would be tan, but she was certain he was pale
below the waist. He would most definitely take off his shirt in the sun, but he
didn’t seem the type to bare all to the world.
He’d take her hard until she howled her orgasm into the
spray, and when reduced to nothing but a quivering heap, he’d set her on the
edge of the shower seat and push his throbbing cock into her mouth, forcing her
to suck her cream off every pulsating vein. And she’d do it too, with gusto,
all the while watching him through her lashes as his face tightened with the
need to come. She bet his cock was so huge it would fill her mouth to
overflowing, because of course he was hung like a champion stallion. This was
her dream, after all.
Did she have the ability to make him cry out or would he
remain as silent and vigilant as always and grit his teeth as the yearning
burned in his dark eyes? The harder she sucked, the firmer he’d grow against
her tongue until his cum began to spill from the tip.
With a growl he’d pull away and make her open her mouth so
he could spray her lips and breasts with his cum. As the image of the hot jet
of his seed splashing across her flesh flashed behind her clenched eyelids, her
sheath tightened around her probing fingers. Her hips lifted from the mattress
as her core turned molten and her blood boiled through her veins. She bit her
lip to hold in her cries and tried to still her writhing as shame burned
through her as quickly as her orgasm.
It was one thing to milk your body for
An hour later when the water had grown too chilly for
comfort, she switched off the jets and opened the drain. A fluffy cotton towel
awaited her on a warming rack and she thanked the Lord again for her good
fortune. How she wished she had fancy nightwear to match her decadent
surroundings. A cotton tank and a pair of shorts just screamed white trash,
especially as she slid onto the silk sheets and rested her head on the
overstuffed pillows.
Within seconds the day’s events sucked her into the dark
abyss of mindlessness, aiding her in rejuvenating her spirit and ridding her of
the stress of the last few months. The contentment that seeped into her bones
heated and thickened, pooling into her womb to simmer like a pot of dulce de
leche on the stove. Fire licked up her belly to tease her nipples and a
sheen of sweat broke out across her skin.
Her eyes flew open on a gasp and she realized her hand was
nestled between the slick folds of her sex. The feel of her own pussy was not
an unusual one, but usually she was conscious when working her body to an
explosive orgasm. Her gaze flew wildly around the room and found nothing but
furniture and shadows while her breath whooshed in and out as if she had been
running for her life.
What the hell had she been dreaming of to have her on the
cusp of oblivion so readily? For Pete’s sake, her head had just hit the
pillows.
Bale. It had to be. That bathtub was made for sensual
indulgence and there would be nothing more indulgent than seeing that muscled
body of his lounging back in the tub with bubbles hiding and revealing all his
gloriously male bits.
She moaned and thumbed the swollen bud of her clit as the
images bombarded her mind. What harm could there be in giving in to a little
bit of fantasy? It’s not as if Bale would ever find out just how nasty her
imagination ran.
Would he let her soap up his muscles and allow her full
access to whatever she wanted to touch? Would he encourage her to straddle his
thighs and guide her hips up and down as he impaled her on his cock? Or would
he take her in the shower with nothing but him and her in the steamy enclosure
and all five showerheads roaring at full blast? His arms were so strong he’d
have no problem lifting her up to pin her back against the chilly tile.
Ripples rolled up her belly as she imagined the sight of her
legs wrapped around his lean waist as his hips bucked and the cheeks of his ass
flexed. The skin of his back would be tan, but she was certain he was pale
below the waist. He would most definitely take off his shirt in the sun, but he
didn’t seem the type to bare all to the world.
He’d take her hard until she howled her orgasm into the
spray, and when reduced to nothing but a quivering heap, he’d set her on the
edge of the shower seat and push his throbbing cock into her mouth, forcing her
to suck her cream off every pulsating vein. And she’d do it too, with gusto,
all the while watching him through her lashes as his face tightened with the
need to come. She bet his cock was so huge it would fill her mouth to
overflowing, because of course he was hung like a champion stallion. This was
her dream, after all.
Did she have the ability to make him cry out or would he
remain as silent and vigilant as always and grit his teeth as the yearning
burned in his dark eyes? The harder she sucked, the firmer he’d grow against
her tongue until his cum began to spill from the tip.
With a growl he’d pull away and make her open her mouth so
he could spray her lips and breasts with his cum. As the image of the hot jet
of his seed splashing across her flesh flashed behind her clenched eyelids, her
sheath tightened around her probing fingers. Her hips lifted from the mattress
as her core turned molten and her blood boiled through her veins. She bit her
lip to hold in her cries and tried to still her writhing as shame burned
through her as quickly as her orgasm.
It was one thing to milk your body for
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