AUDREY
I felt as liquid as the pool, but somehow he gathered me up in his arms and held me to him. With my hand, I found his cock beneath the water, hard for me. He let out a long, shaky breath. “You probably need some moments to recover,” he offered, and his voice rasped against my brain the way his beard had rasped against my breasts.
At the thought, my nipples ached sweetly. I moved my hand along his length, small, almost circular movements like what he’d done to me. From the way he trembled under me, I suspected it had the same effect.
On the shelf beside me, he shifted, urging me into his lap. I slipped back, using the water and change in depth to avoid his suggestion and positioning myself in front of him the way he had with me.
He looked down at me, his face unreadable. “Want help to wash?” he asked, but didn’t reach for the soap ball.
The thought of having his hands wrapped up in my hair did delightful things to my belly. But I shook my head, tightening my hand around the base of his cock and stroking slowly upward, feeling the ridge underneath in the palm of my hand, the slide of the skin over the firmness of his flesh.
I could see him, under the water. The curve of the shaft and the way his testicles swayed subtly as the water moved around them.
He wrapped his hand around mine, adjusting my grip. I memorized the tension of his fingers, the pace of the movements. The water’s surface barely stirred, but his breath shook. With my other hand I found the twin weights in those soft pouches of skin. He sucked in air like I’d hurt him and I froze, but as I checked his expression, he shook his head like he was trying to banish my worries. “I like it,” he promised, the words rough.
So I returned to my explorations, remembering the way we’d felt when we were sealed together. How, at first, he’d felt hot and huge and then it had been just right. How his balls had slapped against me and been another point of sensation. I hadn’t thought to touch them, then. I liked the weight of them. I liked the difference in texture.
His finger beneath my chin made me lift my eyes from where my hands were exploring him and I met his blazing blue eyes. “Whatever you want,” he promised. “It’s yours, Embers. You just need to take it.”
Something low in my body twisted delightfully. This wasn’t an idle promise.
Get out of the water. The words ran around in my mind like a dog trapped in the bailey. His lips were right there, so soft and sweet. They’d gleamed after he’d sucked on my nipples. The memory of the sensation reignited the fires in my veins and I withdrew my hands. “Get out of the water.”
He did, standing carefully so he didn’t bump into me. I climbed back onto the shallow shelf and tugged him to a sitting position, keeping myself in the warmth of the water.
With knees already spread it wasn’t hard for me to access his cock. Butterflies hatched low in my belly. I pressed a kiss to his thigh, as he’d done with me, remembering how anticipation had coiled inside of me. And, sure enough, I heard him swallow.
I was smiling when I reached his abdomen. The shaft of his cock felt smooth against my cheek. I rubbed against it gently, enjoying the sensation, exploring it. He was wet from the water. I looked down at him, and some of my hair slid forward in a long, wet chunk.
One of his hands gently scooped it up. I felt him wrapping it around his fist in a firm, but not painful, pressure, and delight rippled over my skin. I tugged away just a little, just to feel the sensation, and his breath shook.
As he’d shown me, I wrapped my fingers around his shaft. But this time, when I slid my hand down, I could properly see the helm of his cock peeking out, bared to the steamy air. It glistened wetly. It would’ve been wetter when he’d been fucking me. Wet and slick from our combined efforts. My nipples ached. If he could have reached them comfortably, I’d have guided his hands to me.
The thought of those hands reminded me of the pressure on my scalp and the delicious ache between my legs his touch had left me with. Drawing in a breath, I turned my face and took the head of his cock in my mouth.
He let out a short noise of pleasure. The smoothness of his skin beneath my tongue, the roundness of the tip, made my body feel tight and my nipples ache. I twisted my hand gently, making the skin slide fractionally, and his hand flexed a little in my hair.
He’d told me no was easier than yes. So I took him deeper, tracing the curious ridge beneath his shaft with my tongue and feeling that satisfying slip and slide of flesh beneath the pressure of my lips. Like with my hand, I slid my mouth back up a short distance, then took him deeper again. The rounded helm bumped against the roof of my mouth and he moaned.
The sound went straight to the center of me. I set to work, studying his reactions, the way his hands would flex and his breath would catch, as I moved my mouth differently on him. I learned his preference for hard suction and that he didn’t mind if I sometimes made a slurping noise. I learned that running my tongue on the seam at the bottom of his penis made him weak. I learned that unlike me, he loved a pattern that changed semi-regularly. I tasted the saltiness and felt the viscose fluid and made him pant and moan.
Putting myself in his hands, trusting him to look after me, had felt wonderful. The thought of doing the same made me ache to climb on top of him and feel him buried deep. I wanted him moaning into my throat, his hands on my hips.
“If we keep going like this,” he said, the words like gravel in velvet, “I’m going to cum in that hungry mouth of yours, Embers. Is that what you want?”
I wanted him underneath me, gasping. I wanted him on top of me, mindless. But I wanted this more. In answer, I tightened my hand around the base of his shaft and pumped it once, slowly, in time with the motion of my mouth.
He let out a sound that was something between a laugh, a moan and a prayer. The hand in my hair relaxed and those same strands swung forward, irritatingly. With the hand I’d used to hold myself up I found his arm and put his hand back on my head, where it belonged.
His fingers trembled as he gathered up my hair, this time. I raised up, enjoying the little pop of suction, to look at his expression.
That amount of reverence was probably blasphemous.
“Come climb up here,” he invited, tugging gently at my hair in a way that made ripples dance up my spine.
“Later,” I promised.
His eyes dipped down to my mouth. “You don’t need to.”
I opened my mouth and, watching his expression, stroked my tongue up the seam of his cock.
He shuddered, staring at me with worship. “Let me taste you,” he said, tugging a little more firmly on my hair.
The thought of taking his place up on the rocks made me realize he could very well touch my nipples whilst also consuming me and the thought made the hunger coil tightly in my limbs. “Later,” I agreed, falling on him again and making him shudder.
“Gods,” he whispered. “Embers,” he said, in the exactly same tone.
With one hand, I gripped his shaft. With the other, I gently cradled his testicles, gently rolling them between my hands, listening to his breath break and tremble.
One indrawn breath and a shudder rippled through him. The hot spurt of his seed coated my mouth and I drank deeply as he moaned.
The moment was so short-lived, and in no time he’d slipped down beside me, pulling me into his arms. “Your turn,” he said, still breathing too quick. “Wild horses, woman. I need you.”