23. Vanessa #2
“Good. You need some tender loving care after what happened yesterday.” He works his thumbs down to my neck and shoulders, making my knees nearly buckle with how relaxed I am.
I lean against him for support as he works the knots out of my sore muscles, releasing little groans of gratification past my lips.
When my neck and shoulders have been worked through, Cupid moves me back under the water to rinse my hair.
I half expect him to jump right into washing me down, but I’m pleasantly surprised when he reaches for my conditioner and squirts a small amount into his hand.
As he did with the shampoo before, he works the conditioner into my hair before rinsing it away.
By the time he adds soap to the washcloth, I feel boneless, more relaxed than I’ve been in months.
Slowly, Cupid drags the washcloth over the flushed skin on my shoulders, lathering me in soap suds. He moves the washcloth lower, scrubbing my back and over the cleft in my ass. Tracing the curve of my ass with his fingertips, we both groan.
“Your peach is fucking juicy,” he says in a ragged whisper. “I want to bite it.”
Cupid sinks to his knees behind me, running the washcloth over my backside and down my legs. When the water has washed away the suds, I feel his mouth and hands on my ass. He bites my tender flesh, making me hiss from the sting, before kissing and licking away the pain.
My eyes roll closed again, and I grab onto his hands where he grips the tops of my thighs, letting out a tiny moan.
When Cupid has me wound tighter than a coil ready to spring and seconds away from throwing my ass back in his face, he stands, spinning me around to face him.
I pout, unhappy that he stopped what he had started. “Why did you stop?”
Those kissable lips of his quirk up in the corners, but he doesn’t answer me, focusing on his work instead.
Cupid gives me the same treatment on the front of me, starting at my collarbones and working his way down over my breasts, past my stomach, and down my legs, thorough and gentle with how he handles me. Each pass of his hand across my body has me rubbing my thighs together.
He rushes the now soap-less washcloth through my slippery folds, as if he knows neither of us will handle touching me there without fireworks going off.
“You’re a tease,” I accuse with a sulk.
The potency of his fiery gaze when his dark eyes meet mine has me gulping. “I’m no tease, Butterfly.”
Could have fooled me. Where he has a mastery level of self-control, I’d have flunked out as soon as my hands were on his body.
When he tosses the washcloth aside and uses his large, calloused hands to help rinse the soap away under the streams of water, I’m ready to shove my fingers between my legs and take matters into my own hands.
The bubbles are long gone, but Cupid keeps running his hands over my body, like he can’t bear the thought of not touching me.
He turns me in the water, having me face away from him once again.
His fingers trail from the center of my neck down my chest, between my cleavage, cupping around one of my heaving breasts.
Using his thumb, he rolls it over my nipple, stimulating it into a stiff peak and causing a needy whimper to leave my lips.
“Is this what you want, Vanessa? My hands touching you?”
“Yes,” I plead, sounding desperate for his attention.
My response urges him on. He palms my breasts from behind, plucking my nipples and drawing more guttural sounds from me.
While he toys with one of my nipples, his other hand slips past my stomach, cupping the apex between my thighs. He nudges my feet apart with his foot, giving him access to slip a thick finger between my folds.
That first touch against my sex has me gasping, tossing my head back against his muscled chest. My hands fly out in front of me on the shower wall, the only thing keeping me upright and not melting into a puddle on the shower floor.
“You’re so fucking wet for me,” he purrs. “Ready to take me inside?”
“I thought you said you couldn’t have me while I was healing,” I say weakly, my voice coming out all breathy. The last thing I want is this man to stop pleasuring me, but I’m not sure my head could handle the pounding his cock would give me.
He runs his nose against my neck, breathing me in. “I may not fuck you hard the way I want to, but I sure as hell can pleasure you.”
To prove his point, he slips two of his thick fingers inside me, already slicked from running through my arousal.
My pussy clenches around his fingers, sucking them deeper inside of me. “Oh, God!”
“That’s right,” he croons, dragging his teeth along my neck and making me gasp. “I’m your God. And you’re my Psyche.”
Cupid nips and sucks on my neck as his fingers pump inside of me at an unhurried, torturous pace, building on my mounting pleasure. Pressing the heel of his palm against my clit, he rubs against it, creating intense friction and making me greedy for more.
My ass grinds against his now fully erect dick, wishing it was his cock inside of me instead of his fingers.
He hisses, thrusting his dick between my cheeks like he can’t help himself. “Stop that, brat. I can’t bend you over and take you.”
“You don’t seem to mind it,” I say, rubbing my ass against his groin again.