moans changed to groans.
‘Don’t stop!’ she cried out, turning to glare at him. She would have begged longer, but something in his face told her that such pleas would not be welcome.
‘Patience,’ he replied. ‘Acually I haven’t quite finished yet. I have my orders.’
She wanted to ask him what orders. But her need to enjoy more of his ministrations was greater than her curiosity.
Disappointment filled her. She had a need for release, and if it wasn’t for the fact that Gregory was with her and likely to do more, she would have slid her hand between her legs and tickled her tight little bud until she did come.
Quizzically she looked over the foam that sat on her shoulder and saw him take something down from off the wall.
Then she gasped as cold water sprayed from a hand-held shower hose washed the suds from her body. Goosebumps dimpled her tight flesh as the soft hands directed the water over her back. Streams of cold delicacy seeped between her buttocks and dangled in icy dribbles from her stiff nipples. She gasped, her skin tingling as the process was repeated until the shower was turned off.
‘Cold water aids muscle tone.’ Gregory’s explanation sounded reasonable enough, but Penny did not entirely believe him, or rather she didn’t want to believe him. She wanted to believe that he was enjoying this, too; that the sight of her naked form and opening sex tempted him. If it wasn’t for the obvious bulge in his trousers, she would have questioned his gender. But she knew instinctively he was a man. His physique was beautiful, but decidedly masculine. And his smell was masculine. He was a man all right.
She considered his comment on muscle tone. The divide between health and sex had always been blurred. In the bath, it was sex that was on her mind, not sport.
‘The soap’s all gone,’ he said, then switched off the cold water.
Catching her breath, she got out of the soap-filled tub and let Gregory envelop her in the softness of a thick white bath towel wrapped tightly around her by his sinewy arms.
‘Delicious,’ she murmured, closing her eyes and hugging the sheet to her. She was cocooned in it, glad of its warmth, of its softness, and even more glad to be so close to his body.
Wetting her lips with her languid tongue, she reached out and touched his glistening shoulder. He started and stepped back. The look in his eyes was impossible to read. There was defiance there, and also something resembling pain or fear.
‘I’m sorry . . . ’ she said, in a broken voice. Puzzled and disappointed, she clenched her fingers into her palm, withdrew and let the towel that so warmly enfolded her slip from her grasp.
‘It’s not allowed,’ he said, stepping away from her like he had earlier. ‘At least, not yet.’
She stared, but bit her tongue. She was new here. She had to remember that.
Her body was dry now, aglow with the warm hue of the recent bath. Her breasts pouted proudly forward as though inviting his fingers. Very slightly, she opened her legs and was immediately aware of the sweet mix of musk and highly perfumed soap.
‘Don’t you want me?’ she asked him plaintively, running her hands down over her breasts, the flatness of her belly, the forest of soft dark hair that flowered between her thighs.
She couldn’t help but frown. His expression did not change; at least not in his eyes. His jaw dropped momentarily before he answered.
‘Yes,’ he suddenly said in a bright way that softened the hardness of his jawline. ‘I want you to lie down on the bed.’ He threw the last words over his shoulder in a more casual and offhand manner.
She didn’t care about that. If he wanted her on the bed, he could have her on the bed. In fact, he could have her in any way he chose. She picked up the crumpled towel and made her way into the bedroom.
The thick green and red of the tapestry bedspread was rough against her back, and did nothing to subdue the heat of sexual desire that ran all
‘Don’t stop!’ she cried out, turning to glare at him. She would have begged longer, but something in his face told her that such pleas would not be welcome.
‘Patience,’ he replied. ‘Acually I haven’t quite finished yet. I have my orders.’
She wanted to ask him what orders. But her need to enjoy more of his ministrations was greater than her curiosity.
Disappointment filled her. She had a need for release, and if it wasn’t for the fact that Gregory was with her and likely to do more, she would have slid her hand between her legs and tickled her tight little bud until she did come.
Quizzically she looked over the foam that sat on her shoulder and saw him take something down from off the wall.
Then she gasped as cold water sprayed from a hand-held shower hose washed the suds from her body. Goosebumps dimpled her tight flesh as the soft hands directed the water over her back. Streams of cold delicacy seeped between her buttocks and dangled in icy dribbles from her stiff nipples. She gasped, her skin tingling as the process was repeated until the shower was turned off.
‘Cold water aids muscle tone.’ Gregory’s explanation sounded reasonable enough, but Penny did not entirely believe him, or rather she didn’t want to believe him. She wanted to believe that he was enjoying this, too; that the sight of her naked form and opening sex tempted him. If it wasn’t for the obvious bulge in his trousers, she would have questioned his gender. But she knew instinctively he was a man. His physique was beautiful, but decidedly masculine. And his smell was masculine. He was a man all right.
She considered his comment on muscle tone. The divide between health and sex had always been blurred. In the bath, it was sex that was on her mind, not sport.
‘The soap’s all gone,’ he said, then switched off the cold water.
Catching her breath, she got out of the soap-filled tub and let Gregory envelop her in the softness of a thick white bath towel wrapped tightly around her by his sinewy arms.
‘Delicious,’ she murmured, closing her eyes and hugging the sheet to her. She was cocooned in it, glad of its warmth, of its softness, and even more glad to be so close to his body.
Wetting her lips with her languid tongue, she reached out and touched his glistening shoulder. He started and stepped back. The look in his eyes was impossible to read. There was defiance there, and also something resembling pain or fear.
‘I’m sorry . . . ’ she said, in a broken voice. Puzzled and disappointed, she clenched her fingers into her palm, withdrew and let the towel that so warmly enfolded her slip from her grasp.
‘It’s not allowed,’ he said, stepping away from her like he had earlier. ‘At least, not yet.’
She stared, but bit her tongue. She was new here. She had to remember that.
Her body was dry now, aglow with the warm hue of the recent bath. Her breasts pouted proudly forward as though inviting his fingers. Very slightly, she opened her legs and was immediately aware of the sweet mix of musk and highly perfumed soap.
‘Don’t you want me?’ she asked him plaintively, running her hands down over her breasts, the flatness of her belly, the forest of soft dark hair that flowered between her thighs.
She couldn’t help but frown. His expression did not change; at least not in his eyes. His jaw dropped momentarily before he answered.
‘Yes,’ he suddenly said in a bright way that softened the hardness of his jawline. ‘I want you to lie down on the bed.’ He threw the last words over his shoulder in a more casual and offhand manner.
She didn’t care about that. If he wanted her on the bed, he could have her on the bed. In fact, he could have her in any way he chose. She picked up the crumpled towel and made her way into the bedroom.
The thick green and red of the tapestry bedspread was rough against her back, and did nothing to subdue the heat of sexual desire that ran all
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