“Only in the bedroom shall we meet,” Harper mumbled under her breath sarcastically as she headed toward her assigned bathroom.
Most of her irritation melted away a few minutes later as she stood in the luxurious steam shower. Was she really going to get pissy over the way Jacob had arranged his home? He wasn’t the only person in existence who wanted privacy in the bathroom. She herself preferred it.
She heard the bathroom door clicking shut and jumped in surprise. Jacob walked around the shower enclosure. He was naked.
Gloriously so.
He opened the shower door and stepped in. Her gaze dropped over him as steam curled around his long, muscular body. Her heart began to race in excitement.
So much for craving privacy in the bathroom.
“You weren’t getting started without me, were you?” he asked, a lazy smile tilting his mouth. He stepped beneath the shower spray, taking her into his arms. She stifled a groan of pleasure at the sensation of his wet naked body pressing against her own.
“I only washed my hair so far,” she replied, looking up at him.
“I wasn’t talking about hygiene,” he murmured, before his mouth covered hers. His kiss was even more sultry and hot than the shower enclosure.
“Jacob, if I don’t get out now and dry my hair, I won’t make it for dinner,” she said a breathless moment later. Despite her words, she dipped her knees slightly, running her wet body up and down against his. He was so hard. It felt divine, his ribs pressing against her breasts, the column of his stiffening cock sliding across her belly.
He stopped her abruptly by cupping one of her ass cheeks in a large hand.
“So you’ll go to the opera with wet hair,” he replied, his smoldering gaze on her mouth and his squeezing hand on her ass making focusing difficult. She managed a sarcastic look up at him.
“Okay, no wet hair,” he granted. “We’ll just have to make good use of our time, then.” He put both hands on her ass and guided her over to the shower bench seat. He urged her to sit. She watched him, taking in the wonders of his powerful back, bulging biceps, and glistening ass as he turned his back to her. When he returned, he held one of the shower attachments, a Waterpik massager. There was something about the way he grasped the golden handle of the instrument so . . . purposefully that made her eyes go wide.
“I’ve been thinking about it ever since I washed you last night,” he rasped, coming down on his knees in front of her. Harper graphically recalled his intimate, tender washing of her sex after multiple orgasms had left her limp and exhausted. She watched as he used his thumb to flip on the spray. Water jetted on the seat next to her, the pressure good and strong . . .
“I thought it’d be too selfish to bring you off again last night, as wrung out as you were.” Water droplets clung to his long lashes. He opened his hand on her thigh, spreading her knees. “But you’re not tired now, are you?”
She merely shook her head, made mute by his heavy-lidded stare and the sound of the Waterpik shooting onto the seat beside her. He lifted the massager. Warm water shot onto her thigh, massaging the muscle. He moved it up, just inches away from her sex.
“Do you like a shower massager?” he asked languidly. He stared fixedly between her thighs.
“Yes,” she whispered.
His gaze darted up to her face. “I’m asking if you ever masturbate with one.”
Her mouth fell open. She’d heard of women doing it, of course. But she’d never had the proper equipment in her house to do it herself.
“No,” she mouthed, because he’d aimed the showerhead on her mons. Water ran in rivulets over her outer sex. His head was bowed. His attention on her appeared to be absolute. The vibrations reached her clit. She whimpered softly.
“You’ve got the prettiest pussy in existence,” he muttered, moving aside the Waterpik. He ducked his head over her lap and ran his tongue between her labia, laving her clit hard. She made a choked sound and grabbed at his head, her fingers sinking into his wet hair. His tongue was firm. Deft.
He knew exactly what he was doing.
He lifted his head and lowered the shower massager onto her outer sex. She groaned, her eyes springing wide. The pressure was hard, a little too intense, in fact. It eased a mere second after she’d thought it. He’d been watching the expression on her face, and let up on the pressure valve on the nozzle. Now it was ideal. She fell back mindlessly on the narrow seat, the shower wall bracing her back.
“I didn’t think I’d like it with you,” he said evenly, studying her reaction as he moved the showerhead subtly, stimulating her. His thumb slipped between her sex lips for a moment, giving her clit a good rub. She gasped. “I don’t want anything washing away your taste. But there was something about washing you last night . . . I knew I wouldn’t rest until I saw you coming from it.”
He placed the nozzle directly on her labia, pressing tight. Water jetted onto her clit, but he applied force with the nozzle, as well. He circled subtly.
“Ah, Jesus, Jacob.” Her free hand dropped to the edge of the marble seat, where she clutched tight. Her fingers on his head formed a claw in his hair. He moved the gold handle subtly. Her body jerked in pleasure. She vibrated in mounting bliss.
“That’s right.”
The thick arousal in his tone made her eyelids open a moment later. His gaze was still glued between her thighs. His hand was between his legs, and one of his arms was moving. Her sex clenched. Her arousal spiked. He was pumping his cock as he watched himself bringing her off with the Waterpik. She moaned in anguished arousal, and suddenly his stare was on her face.
“Touch your beautiful breasts,” he demanded.