Bad Boy Blues(92)

I’m at his ribs now, bronzed and strong. I push my thumbs in, twist my knuckles over the ropy muscles. I feel his hips thrust. Gently, slightly, just a whisper of movement, grazing my bare belly.

“You sweat and gasp and pant. Every muscle in your body vibrates. Your veins stand up. I notice it all. In fact, by the time you’re done, I’m panting. It makes me lose my breath from what you put this body through.”

I clutch his sides before making my way down to his tight stomach with all the grooves. “When you grunt, I feel it between my legs, I swear. I get all swollen and horny just watching you. Watching how hard you work.”

I thread my fingers through the tuft of his dark curly hair that leads down to his dick. Which is straining against his sweats right now.

Looking back into his hooded, slightly wild eyes, I whisper, grazing my needy nipples over his abs, “Can I make you feel good? Please? I want to make you feel good, Zach. Treat you like a prince for being such a hard worker. Let me show how much I love your body.”

Let me show how much I love you.

At my words, he fists his hand in my hair, pulling my head back. His cheeks are jutting out, his jaw rigid and square. His neck is flushed with lust.

He’s a guy at the end of his patience, at the end of his rope.

“Who are you?” he growls.

A girl who loves you.

“Your prize.”

His other hand comes up and wraps around my neck, feeling my racing pulse. He’s harder than ever, hotter and darker and completely wild.

“Take off my pants.”

My hands fall to the waistband of his sweats and, swallowing, I do. He probably feels it under his palm, the jerk of my throat.

I manage to get them down to the tops of his thighs, exposing his hard cock that springs out like a weapon and slaps against his abdomen. Zach does the rest of the work, shoving them down and off his legs.

Then he walks me backward, his dick grazing my upper tummy. I feel its wetness rubbing over my skin.

Letting go of my neck and hair, he grips my waist and picks me up and puts me inside his ceramic bathtub before getting in himself and closing the shower curtain in one go.

Now we’re all enclosed, cornered and hidden inside this tiled space, him and me. He casts a shadow on the wall, covering me completely and leaving no space for me anywhere but inside the contours of his large body.

Zach simply stands there, staring down at me with intense eyes, and in this moment, I’m filled with a purpose.

He wants me to serve and I will.

Clenching my thighs, I grope the wall behind me for the shower knob. When I find it, I turn it on and water rains down on us.

I step into him and push back the hair that is slick on his forehead. Taking his hand, I change our places, getting him under the spray of water. It’s hard to look away from him, from the water sluicing down his muscles making him look so magnificent, but I do it.

I find the bottle of soap, squirt it on my palm before lathering it up. I start at his neck, going up and down the column of it, before moving down to his shoulders and chest. I make his skin all slippery and soapy and scratch his nipples, causing him to fist his hands on his sides.

Bending down, I soap up his torso. Stunningly hard and tight and defined.

Then I come down to my knees and soap up his cock. It’s the most delicate, intimate and powerful thing on his body. Long and thick and proud, it stands as I stroke it. My fingers slip in the soap and I graze my thumb in the slit.

I hear his groan and glance up to see him throwing his head back into the water as I work him.

My entire body feels swollen with my lust and my love for him. This towering dark prince.

He told me once that if he wanted, he’d make me his slave and I’d fall down to the ground so fast, my knees would bleed.

I think this is it.

I’m his slave now, kneeling on the ceramic tub, serving him. Even though there’s no blood on the outside, on the inside, I’m bleeding with his love.

I work his sac next, flexing them, rolling them in my palms.

It makes his cock jerk. A pearl of a drop leaks out from the top of it and mixes in with the bubbles of his spicy-smelling soap.

As much as I want to play with him, give him the relief he needs, I move lower. I need to pamper him first, spoil him before giving him his climax.

I soap up his thighs, my fingers sifting through the hair on them. Slowly, I move down and work on his calves. The muscles on them, Jesus. I never thought calves could be sexy but they are.

They so are.

When I’m done, I come to my feet and his nostrils flare. His eyes look stoned. They are dark and drunk, completely wasted.

Before I can turn him around, he grabs the back of my neck, pulling me flush to his soapy body. “What are you doing to me?” he whispers, turned on and angry.

Our chests slip against each other because of the soap and goose bumps wake up on my wet skin. “Serving my prince.”

His grip stutters at the word and I know it means something to him. Me taking care of him like this when probably no one ever did.

When he presses a hard kiss on my mouth, I know it means everything.

I get him to turn around and his arms splay open on the tiled wall, his head bowing down.

I get more soap from the bottle and keep going, massaging and lathering up his shoulder blades and his spine. I poke my fingers in the dimples at the small of his back, soap the taut cheeks of his ass.