Chapter 25 #2
“Perhaps I won’t tell you,” he said, enjoying the way she was breathing now, the shocked little hiccups in her whimpers, “and you shall have to risk finding out in the moment. Perhaps I shall torment you for a change.”
She released a little moan, like the words themselves had stroked her to pleasure. “Would you? Thaddeus, would you do that?”
He brought the sponge around, wringing the suds between her breasts and then using the soft texture to spread the foam at his leisure. “Yes,” he said, low and soft as his eyes followed the progress of his work. “I would.”
“I want,” she was panting, her mouth clearly gone a little dry as she stopped herself to swallow once and then again. She rocked her hips more insistently. “Please.”
He smirked up at her, dropping the sponge in the water and using his hands to continue to rub the lather into her breasts, his thumbs dragging in torturous, delectable little circles. “I belong to you,” he reminded her. “Take what you want.”
“Oh,” she said, her eyes flying open, blinking as they swam into focus on his. “I can …? Yes. Yes, you are mine. Mine.”
Her hands splashed through the water, dragging along the flower petals and bubbles that floated between them, finding his chest again, finding the solid give of his warm flesh against hers.
She inhaled sharply, arching her back as he continued to touch her, her thighs squeezing his as she attempted to work her mind through what exactly she planned to do.
“I’ve already been inside you,” he whispered as she slid her hands lower, her breath coming shorter and shallower as she hovered just above touching him directly. “You know the shape of me.”
She used her tongue to roll her bottom lip into her mouth, pressing it under her teeth, and lifted her hips as she wrapped her soft little fingers around him, tighter than he expected, more certain.
He groaned, his own eyes falling shut at the pleasure of it, at the sound she made in claiming him like this. If he had expected her to immediately join their bodies, he had forgotten who she was again, at his own peril.
She stroked him. She memorized him. She leaned back to watch her own hands in the task.
“I could touch you for years,” she whispered, as though she wanted to break him permanently, in this moment. “I will, I think.”
“Hannah,” he said, and this time it was not a chiding, but a plea. A desperate plea.
“Thaddeus,” she answered, and crawled back over him, using her hand to guide him into her body, carefully and slowly, learning as she went. “Oh. Is this right?”
“It is right,” he managed to answer through his teeth. “It is perfect.”
“Show me,” she whispered, hot and soft in his ear as she looped her warm, wet arms around his shoulders, settling onto him until she was joined to the hilt. “Teach me.”
He let out a moan, a prayer of a sound, as he slid his hands down her back and over her hips, guiding her in small, careful movements at first as they watched one another, eyes locked between the curls of steam.
She kissed him gently, adjusting herself, following the motions he showed her and gradually trying them herself. The gentle little muscles under her skin tensed and moved as she chased sensation, bracing herself against the heat and steadiness of his body.
The water lapped gently around them, a whirlpool of pleasure as she found her pace and rhythm.
“Does it feel good?” she whispered to him. “Do I feel good on you?”
He nodded because he did not trust himself to speak. He let his hands move because he thought that if he gave in to even a single buck of his hips, he would lose himself fully.
Someday soon, she would meet him in his fever and there would be no need for restraint. Someday very soon, knowing Hannah. There was no rush to get there, no need to miss the tentative indulgence of her finding her way.
Her fingers tightened on his shoulders, the slickness of the water and soap causing her to paw and scratch at him as she increased her pace, her voice splintering over the nearing promise of release.
Fragrant, cooling droplets escaped the tub, dappling the tile beneath them as she increased her speed, as she found her intensity and sent his mind reeling well past the point of any coherent thought, leaving only Hannah herself and the spiraling beauty of sensation and sound behind.
He tangled his fingers in the wet ends of her hair. He marveled at her, watched her eyes shutter and her lips part, watched the way her pale body stretched and tensed as she crested the peak of her own desire and found the prize waiting on the other end.
The sound she made was somehow even more incredible than the feeling of her clenching around him, than the weight and slickness of her body sliding against his.
He caught her as she fell forward, collapsing against him with a pant and a little laugh of joy, like she could not quite believe how wonderful the thing she’d created had felt.
That laugh, that little titter of fascination, snapped what remained of his control. He gathered her to him and pressed his face into her throat, growling into her soft skin as he allowed himself to claim his own relief, spilling more of their bathwater onto the floor in the process.
She gasped prettily, letting him pump into her, to take what he needed quickly and firmly.
He knew he could have indulged for as long as he wanted and she would have enjoyed every moment of it.
But he was so near to snapping, so close to the end throughout this entire encounter, that it was only a matter of a few ragged breaths before he felt it rip through him, breaking apart every piece of what he was and remaking them into something that belonged only to her.
He did not release her, holding her to him as he caught his breath, stroking her hair, her arms, her back. He felt the curve of her smile against his chest and it made him smile too.
She pulled back to peek at him through her ropes of wet hair, her eyes glittering and her grin wide.
It made him cup her cheeks and capture another kiss from her. Another lingering, sweet little kiss, until her giggling into his mouth made him start chuckling in response, and broke them apart.
She flicked water at him, scooting back until she landed on the marble basin, and fished the lathered-up sponge from where it floated on the surface.
“Well, then,” she said softly. “You’d best turn around and let me wash that back, St. Thaddeus, before I get distracted again.”
He sighed and shook his head.
“A losing battle,” he commented, but he arranged himself anyway and let himself float into leisure as she took to her task.