Chapter 11. #3
A pair of warm arms slid around his waist from behind. Soft breasts pressed against his back. Soft lips brushed the wet skin between his shoulder blades in a slow, open-mouthed kiss.
“I saw it on TV, Boss,” Benita’s voice whispered against his spine.
Brian turned in the circle of her arms. Water cascaded over both of them as he looked down into her dark eyes.
She was completely bare, hair already damp and clinging to her shoulders and the upper curves of her breasts.
He cupped her face with both wet hands and captured her mouth in a deep, hungry kiss that tasted of heat and quiet relief.
When they finally broke apart she stayed close, her forehead resting against his.
“You meant every word,” she said softly. “I could hear it in your voice. The part about Tina. The part about family. Even the answer to that reporter.”
He nodded, the tip of his nose brushing hers. “I did.”
Benita smiled, small and real. She kissed him again… slower this time, lingering… then let her hands slide down his chest and over the ridges of his stomach. Without another word she sank gracefully to her knees on the warm tile.
Water continued to fall around them. Brian’s breath left him in a rough exhale as her fingers wrapped around his cock and stroked him with slow, deliberate pressure.
He hardened fully in her hand within seconds.
She looked up at him once, eyes half-lidded with quiet intent, then leaned forward and took him into her mouth.
The wet heat of her lips closing around the head dragged a deep groan from his chest. She sank lower, taking him deeper in one smooth motion until he felt the soft resistance of her throat.
Her tongue worked along the underside as she began to move…
slow, steady, thorough. One hand stayed wrapped around the base, stroking in time with the glide of her mouth.
The other rested lightly on his thigh for balance.
Brian’s fingers slid into her wet dark hair, not forcing, only holding.
The sensation was almost too good after three days of near-total deprivation and the raw public intensity of the morning.
Every careful suck, every soft moan she let vibrate around his length, sent heat coiling tighter at the base of his spine.
“Fuck… Benita…”
She hummed in answer and took him deeper still, cheeks hollowing, eyes watering slightly from the effort but never looking away. The wet sounds of her mouth mixed with the rush of the shower. Her free hand moved to cup and gently roll his balls, adding another layer of slow, deliberate pleasure.
Brian’s head tipped back against the marble wall. Water ran down his face and chest. His hips wanted to thrust; he held them still by sheer will. The need to come built fast and hard, sharper than he expected.
“Don’t make me cum,” he whispered, voice rough.
Benita nodded without taking her mouth off him.
The acknowledgment was clear. Yet she did not stop.
If anything she slowed even further, turning the act into something deeper and more intentional…
long, sliding pulls of her lips, soft swirls of her tongue around the head on every upstroke, the gentle pressure of her hand still working the base in perfect rhythm.
She was not rushing him toward the edge.
She was savoring him, and the knowledge of that only made the pleasure denser.
Minutes stretched. Brian’s breathing grew heavier. His fingers tightened in her hair. The coil at the base of his spine drew tighter and tighter until he knew he was only heartbeats away from losing control.
He forced himself to speak again, voice strained. “Benita… stop.”
She obeyed instantly. Her mouth released him with a soft, wet sound.
A thin strand of saliva and water connected her lower lip to the flushed head of his cock for a moment before breaking.
She stayed on her knees looking up at him, lips parted and shiny, eyes dark with the same quiet hunger that had brought her to the shower in the first place.
Brian reached down, took her hands, and drew her carefully to her feet. He pulled her against him under the falling water and kissed her hard… grateful, hungry, and still throbbing with the need she had deliberately left unfinished.
When the kiss ended he shut the water off.
They stepped out together onto the thick bath mat.
Benita reached for a towel first and began drying him with the same calm care she had shown the night before…
shoulders, chest, arms, the hard length of his cock that still stood thick and aching between them.
Brian took a second towel and returned the attention, dragging the soft cloth over her wet skin, across her breasts, down the curve of her waist and hips, lingering only long enough to make certain she was dry.
Neither of them spoke.
When they were both free of water, Benita took his hand. She led him out of the bathroom and into the bedroom without hesitation, the low amber light of the single lamp guiding their path toward the wide bed.