Sinful Rewards 10 by Cynthia Sax Page B

as hell.
    He cleans my knees, calves, lifts one foot and then the other, washing the soles of my feet, dabbing the tip of the sponge around toes, caring for me as one might care for a child.
    He’d make a good father.
    As soon as this thought enters my brain, I smother it with reasons I won’t ever see this side of him, reasons we won’t last. Financially, we’re a disaster, barely able to cover our own expenses. He hasn’t said he wouldn’t take risky assignments. He could get himself blown up tomorrow. My legs quiver.
    â€œControl yourself for a couple more minutes, love.” Hawke, concentrating on washing my heels, mistakes my fear for arousal. He straightens, turns me until I face away from him, and glides the sponge up the back of my legs. I feel no pain as he traces the scratch on my ass, the sting erased with time.
    â€œI’ll put ointment on this later,” he promises, kissing that wound better also.
    â€œYou didn’t put ointment on my breast when you bit me,” I point out, bemused by his concern.
    â€œThat mark was mine.” He swirls the sponge over my lower back. “I didn’t want it to fade.”
    He wanted everyone to know I belong to him. My military man is a primitive, possessive bastard, and this should horrify me. Instead, it curls my fingers and moistens my pussy.
    Hawke slides the soft sponge between my clenched ass cheeks and I stiffen. “You don’t have to wash all of me,” I declare.
    He laughs, his chest shaking against my back. “Your ass is safe with me, sweetheart.” He rinses the sponge thoroughly and places it on the ledge. “The rest of you I’ll hand wash.” Hawke curves his palms over my mons, claiming this part of me, and I tremble. “I wouldn’t trust the delicate parts of you with anything other than my fingers.” He dips his fingertips into my moist heat.
    â€œYes, wash me.” I press against him, yearning for more, needing him inside me. Hawke nuzzles along my face, his stubble burning my skin, and he pushes deeper, stretching me open with two of his thick fingers.
    I rock back into Hawke as he licks and sucks my neck, grazes his thumbs over my clit, pumps my pussy, the combination frying my mind, scattering my thoughts. He’s all I know and all I want. His knuckles press on my inner walls, the fullness divine. His breath wafts on my earlobe. The water streams over us, merging, meshing our bodies together.
    I clutch his thighs, needing to hold on to something, the passion inside me rising quickly, primed by his touch. Hawke’s cock rests against my lower back, and every swivel of my hips pulls a groan from his lips.
    He ravishes me harder, faster, drawing more wetness from my core, tightening the emotion binding my chest. I move with him, panting, reaching for a satisfaction only Hawke can give me. He knows my form, knows me. He can grant me what I desire.
    Or I will take it from him. I clench around his hand, increasing the delectable friction, the sucking sound of fingers in moist pussy echoing in the small room. His scent engulfs me, filling my nostrils, my lungs, all of me.
    There’s nothing delicate about the storm building within me. It is savage and dark, lightning and thunder, a torrential downpour, a flood of desire. My nipples ache for his attention. My ass slaps against him, heat radiating from the points of contact. Energy snaps in the air, lifting the fine hairs on my arms, an electrical charge I feel when I’m with him.
    I want more.
    â€œHawke.” I bend over, flattening my hands against the tiled wall. Water sprays over my back, a thousand fingers caressing my body. “I need your cock inside me.” I widen my stance, offering him everything, wanting the same in return.
    Hawke rubs his rough hands over my ass, and a strangled sound originates from deep in his throat. “No condom.” His words are choked, as though he’s almost as