“Yes?”
“Is the champagne here?”
“It is.”
“Bring it in, then.”
He opened the door and sauntered in, carrying the bottle of champagne in a steel ice bucket. He saw me, nude, lounging in the frothy water of the hot tub and stopped dead in his tracks.
“My God,” he exclaimed, half under his breath.
“Come on in,” I said.
He didn't waste time. He practically ripped what remained of his suit off his body in his rush to get undressed. I watched, utterly captivated, as each item of clothing came off. I'd seen his body before, of course, but only once and not from a point of view that I could fully enjoy it.
Watching him, it was almost as if it was being revealed to me for the first time. I allowed my eyes to rove over his carved figure, with its rippling muscles and perfectly formed . . . everything. Every single muscle on his body had been worked on, refined, polished, as if by a master sculptor. All that obsessive dedication and discipline in the gym had certainly paid off.
Eventually, he stood nude before me, his broad chest rising up and down with the deep, almost harsh breaths he was drawing in, like a wild animal that had just run down its kill. Lust was fueling his gaze. He wanted me with an almost primitive hunger, a hunger that drove fiery blood through every one of his extremities—especially one incredibly hard, pulsating extremity—with every beat of his heart.
“What are you waiting for?” I asked.
He grabbed the champagne bottle and stepped into the water, doing his best to maintain his composure. But I could see how wildly his heart was pumping, how desperately he wanted me. There was no hiding the crazed beast within, writhing madly beneath that exterior of physical perfection.
He pushed through the water toward me, but I held up a hand to stop him.
“Whoa, cowboy. How about some bubbly first?”
He chuckled, although I could see the need in his eyes, ravenous as any wolf.
“Very well,” he said with a tilt of his head.
“Don't shoot the cork at the ceiling. It's a work of art.”
He looked up and smiled.
“True.”
He aimed the bottle at one of the towels hanging on the rack and popped the cork.
“Wonderful,” I said, and I stood up, revealing my entire body to him from the thighs up. I walked through the water, and he stood up, reaching for my breasts, but I pushed his hands away and took the bottle from him.
“Who said you could touch?” I giggled playfully as I drank a swig of champagne.
“Want some?”
“There's only one thing I want right now,” he said hoarsely, his eyes devouring my body.
“Show me how much you want it,” I purred as I set the bottle down.
He stood, stepped over to me, and cupped one of my breasts in his hand as he gazed into my eyes. He kissed me suddenly, madly, and passionately. While one hand massaged my breast, the other slipped down my lower back to both grab my ass and pull me in closer to him.
As we kissed wildly, I grew more and more aroused. Heat was building between my legs, and a slick wetness was growing. I felt his hand move down from my breast, slowly, deliberately moving further and further down, caressing my body as he continued to kiss me.
A gentle brush of the inner thigh—just enough to cause me to jump with pleasure, but only for a split second as he moved it away to the outside of my leg. His other hand, meanwhile, was softly caressing my back. He was much gentler and slower than he had been the last time.
I, meanwhile, was running my fingertips over his gloriously hard, sculpted muscles, listening to him gasp with pleasure at each touch of my fingertips as he kissed me.
Again, he brushed my inner thigh ever so quickly, and a shiver of pleasure rushed through my body. He was teasing me, and it was working. A furious, unquenchable hunger was taking over.