19. Chapter Nineteen— Cassiel
Chapter Nineteen— Cassiel
The sweet sounds of Lottie begging has my cock pressing insistently against the metal zipper of my jeans. God, she sounds so pretty. I snap my jaw shut tight until my back teeth ache as bad as my balls. I wonder what else I can do to make her beg. What other noises she’ll make if I—
“It’s okay.” I frame Lottie’s face with my hands, dipping my lips to press her blood-stained hairline. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Small hands slide beneath the hem of my shirt, gently scratching across my midsection until the hair on the nape of my neck stands up and I shiver. We’re not kissing, but we may as well be with how close our bodies are.
Her heavy tits press against my chest with each ragged inhale and exhale escaping her parted pouty lips.
Steam fills the space around us as Carlotta’s eyes bore into mine; our hands working together to pull my shirt up and over my head.
I throw it over my shoulder, dropping my hands to my zipper and cataloguing the way Lottie’s pupils blow wide, eating up the pretty color of her iris and the tip of her pink tongue wets at her bottom lip.
With deft fingertips, I undo the button of my jeans. I give the growing bulge in my jeans a quick squeeze, my eyes flicking down to watch my fingers flex and then back up to Lottie’s face.
Twin spots of crimson appear on her the apples of her cheeks, but I spot the little smirk playing about her lips.
Using my hip, I gently nudge Lottie to take a step back.
“Your turn, Princess. I want to see every bare inch of you.” I jut my chin towards her bra, zeroing in on the hard points of her nipples poking through the thin lacy material.
One of these days I want to pull it off using only my teeth, peel down the lace cup and sink my sharp canines into the soft flesh of her juicy tits.
My cock kicks, balls aching so bad I can’t help but squeeze myself again to take the edge off. I swear my eyes nearly cross with the zap of ecstasy shooting up my spine, but I manage to hold off from jacking myself properly.
I want to see Lottie first.
Eyes never leaving mine, she reaches behind herself to unhook her bra, letting the delicate straps fall down an inch or so while she holds it to her chest, still covering herself.
“Say please.”
A fresh surge of blood shoots to my cock, leaving me feeling a little lightheaded. I knew she wouldn’t be a shy little thing—she’s a member of a kink club for crying out loud—but I didn’t expect her to straighten her back and watch me watch her.
Leaning back against the marble vanity, I take my time drinking in the sight of Lottie.
From her heavy tits to her nipped in waist and the feminine flare of her hips, I want to devour every perfect inch of her.
I want to suck her pretty little nipples while I play with her pussy, feeling her clench around my fingers while she begs for something bigger, something thicker to fill her up.
I want to see her bounce on top of my dick, mewling as she tries to fit every fat inch of me inside her tight little hole.
I want to see her splayed out in Rome and I’s bed at home, her hair mussed from being pulled, her sweet body covered in our marks, our cum dripping from her swollen pussy, while she sleeps soundly, safe and warm in our care.
There are countless things I want from Carlotta Bellucci and I’m determined to get every. Single. One. Of them.
“Please, Princess,” I utter throatily, shoving down my zipper and groaning with the sudden relief.
Lottie’s eyes zero in on my groin at the same time as she allows her bra to drop to the floor.
Her exposed, rosy colored nipples are already pebbled under my gaze and I can’t stop the smirk from dancing its way across my lips.
I don’t like any of this coy, playing around shit; I’m too old for that.
I like to know the person I’m with is as into me, as I’m into them.
There’s nothing hotter than someone to know what they want—causing my pulse to thrum and my blood to spike in temperature.
The twitch of her stomach and the squeeze of her thighs, tells me all I need to know and I’m about to say something before Lottie digs her thumbs into the lace waistband sitting high on her shapely hips and slips them down her legs without another word, stealing my breath from my lungs.
There’s no two ways about it; she’s mouth-wateringly hot.
I flick my gaze to the scrap of lace on the tiled floor, wondering how Lottie will react if I steal a second pair of her panties, when I hear the glass shower door open, and a fresh waft of warm air hit my skin.
She’s getting in the shower.
Without me.
I push my boxers and jeans to my ankles, stepping out them and making a beeline for Lottie.
It’s a tight fit, especially when I close the steam coated door behind myself, but I’m not complaining; not when it means Lottie’s wet body is forced to brush against mine every time she moves beneath the hot water spray.
With her back to my front, I mold my hands to her hips and hold her tight.
My cock presses insistently against the soft curve of her juicy ass, begging to be let inside her tight little body, but I grab a hold of my self-control, gritting my teeth and pulling hard.
I want Lottie to make the first move, whatever that may be. She needs to feel in control in this very moment, more than I do.
Red rimmed, but still pretty green eyes, gaze back at me over the curve of her shoulder, lashes spiked with droplets of water. Most of the dried blood on her face has been washing away with the oncoming pour, but some still remains, caked in her hairline.
I’m not sure I’d be fairing much better if I hadn’t have wiped away the blood when it was still wet. Dried blood is notoriously unpleasant; the way it dries a darker shade of red, sticking to your skin until it cracks and flakes, leaving you itchy as all hell.
“Will you wash my hair for me?”
I blink in surprise.
“Sure, Princess. Whatever you need.”
A soft groan escapes past my lips as Lottie bends at the hips, reaching for the bottle of shampoo on the shower floor and putting her warm, wet core on the base of my shaft.
Bottle in hand, she straightens back up, sending another shot of pure pleasure through me. I resist the urge to free her bottom lip, trapped under her top teeth with the pad of my thumb, when she peers back at me again, pressing the shampoo into my awaiting palm.
She’s so fucking pretty it physically hurts.
Dumping a hefty amount of shampoo in my palms, I rub them together to create a soapy lather and then I start at Lottie’s scalp.
I can’t say I’ve ever washed a woman’s hair before, but it can’t be much different than washing my own hair, so I dig in my blunt fingertips and get to work.
“Not so rough,” Lottie hisses through her teeth, her head wobbling on her shoulders with the force of my hands. “Haven’t you ever washed a woman’s hair before?”
I ease up on the pressure slightly, grabbing a hold of her wet ends, stained a darker shade of red than usual and adding them to the soapy pile on top of her skull.
“Can’t say I have, Princess.”
Lottie’s brows jump in surprise for a moment before she turns back around, urging me to keep going.
The coconut scented suds slip between my fingers and down the nape of her neck, creating a slick sensation that has my cock flexing as my mind stutters, stuck on the idea of how good it would feel to jerk myself off right this second.
Wet and soapy, slick and dripping, I bet—
Lottie whimpers softly beneath me when I knead a particular sensitive spot behind her ears.
Shit.
Palming her forehead, I urge Lottie to tip her head back to my chest, rinsing off the suds while I helpless grind against her slick body.
I can’t fucking help it.
She feels so good packed tight against me, meeting each of my grinds with a bump of her own hips and a soft mewl.
“Lottie…”
“Two shampoos,” she utters, eyes closed, head still resting on my pecs so I’m looking at her upside down. “I always shampoo my hair twice.”
I blink back the water in my eyes, squeezing another coin sized amount of shampoo into my hands and rubbing it back through Lottie’s long strands.
The small shower is filled with the sound of our groans vibrating off the tiled walls, as we slide our bodies against one another, using each other.
Lottie’s hands join mine in washing away the second lot of suds, before she presses a second, smaller bottle, into my chest.
“Conditioner next, Cass. Only on the ends.”
God, I swear she’s trying to kill me.
I rub the thicker cream between my palms, hovering above Lottie’s shoulders in unsurety.
“Like this.”
Turning in my arms, Lottie covers my hands with hers, smoothing them through the ends of her wet hair.
I wait for her to rinse, but she reaches past me instead, a purple loofa and a bar of soap in hand. I watch, feeling like I’m in a trance as Lottie creates soapy suds and washes away the blood and grime of the basement, swallowing thickly when she moves the loofa between her legs.
Thoroughly clean, she moves under the spray, tipping her head back and expose the smooth column of her throat, to wash away the residue and the conditioner from the ends of her red hair.
When she straightens her spine, it’s to blink water from her lashes, her eyes boring straight into mine.
I try to focus, but it’s not easy when small water droplets dot her skin, trailing down the length of her where my tongue aches to follow, her heavy tits pressed to my chest allowing me to feel the gallop of her heartbeat.
Time seems to slow down, drifting away on the whisps of opaque steam as Lottie rises up onto her tiptoes, splaying her hands on my tattooed chest and begins to scrub me down the same soapy loofa she washed herself with.
I watch her face as she smooths the soap across my pecs, down one arm and then the other, dipping beneath to get my underarms.
The warmth of her body pressed against mine and the heat of the water blasting down on us has my eyes closing, drowning in the feel of Lottie trailing across my abs, her fingertips dipping into every little divot and valley carved into my skin.
She doesn’t question the myriad of ink dotted around my skin—from the base of my neck, across my chest and along my wide ribcage—but I feel her interest in the touch of her soft hand.
The scratchy loofa coasts along my muscular thighs and around the toned curve of my ass, making my cock twitch, a drop of pre-cum sliding down my long length and smearing into Lottie’s soft lower stomach.
Without saying anything, she raises her groomed eyebrows, her upper teeth sinking into her plush bottom lip when she glances at my groin, my cock fully hard and at full mast.
“Want me to help you with that?”
Shaking my head, I grab the loofa from her and begin to scrub myself, taking pains to not think about the same sponge touching Lottie’s sweet cunt and how good the warm soap suds feel kissing my dick.
“The first time you make me cum isn’t going to be in your hand, Princess. And if you touch me right now, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.”
I give myself another pass, glancing up just in time to see the pink tip of Carlotta’s tongue peek out and lick her bottom lip.
“Where then?”
“Hm?”
“Where?” She meets my gaze head-on, looking much more like her usual self than an hour or so before when she resembled nothing more than a broken doll. “Where is your cum going to go the first time I touch you?”
“Inside your tight little pussy, Princess.”
I grin at the hitch escaping Lottie’s throat.
“Oh.” She blinks, licking her lips again. I know exactly what she’s thinking about—it’s the same thing I’ve been imaging for months now, ever since I first saw her stalk towards me while I stood still outside of room eleven. “I’ll leave you to it, then… for now.”
With that, she slides past me, taking pains to press her water-slicked body against mine, before she opens the glass shower door and walks out.