My heart twisted to think of him with other women, but then warmed into a smug glow. I smiled. “Is it wrong that I like you being brutal to other girls? That I’m the only one that captured this?” I traced his chest where his heart beat beneath my fingertips, eyeing up his healing wound on his mirroring pectoral.
He grinned, gaze going soft. “Nope. I’m glad you’re still jealous. It makes me feel wanted.”
I laughed as he placed me on the floor of the bathroom. “Oh, you’re most definitely wanted.”
His stance changed from happy to sexually hungry. “Stop it. I want to wash you. Not fuck you.”
I blinked innocently. “You could do both.”
A dark smile stretched his lips and he stepped into the large shower. Turning on the spray, he reached for me, jerking me under the raining hot water.
My hair became instantly drenched as Arthur raised his head beneath the torrent and opened his mouth to capture cascading droplets. Water rippled down his front, darting over muscles and teasing the hard piece of equipment between his legs.
I wanted him. Badly.
He opened his eyes, water glittering on his eyelashes. “Want something, Cleo?” His tone was laced with a challenge and cockiness.
Just for that, I turned my back on him. “No, not really.” I hid my smile as I reached for the body wash and squirted masculine-smelling bubbles all over my body. My legs trembled as I washed away Arthur’s remnants of pleasure from my inner thighs, clenching from any stimulation on such a sensitive area.
“Not really?” Arthur purred behind me. “You’re saying if I pressed you against the tiles and slid my cock inside you, you wouldn’t be interested?”
I shivered as his body heat moved closer, barricading me between the glass and him.
“Stop that,” I ordered. “You’re the one who has big plans today. I’m busy.”
His hands wrapped around me, capturing my soapy wrists and hauling them fast and hard above my head. His weight crushed mine, pinning me against slippery cold glass.
Instantly my heart rate skyrocketed, and I swallowed back a needful moan.
“You’re busy?” he whispered, rocking his erection against my ass. “Too busy to pay attention to me?”
My tongue tied into lustful knots. I had no come back.
Dropping one hand from my wrists, he splayed his fingers on my chest, tweaking my nipple and lathering the glistening bubbles. “I’m the one who gets to wash you. Not you. Only my hands are allowed here”—his soapy fingers trailed down my stomach and cupped my core—“and here.”
I bit my lip as his touch turned firm, rubbing my clit with steel-minded determination.
Harder and lower, his pressure made my legs stumble; I splayed my hands on the glass for balance, my wrists still captured in his grip.
He groaned in pleasure. “God, you look good like that.” His teeth bit into my shoulder. “Spread your legs.”
My breathing picked up as I obeyed. I spread my legs quickly, and he angled his knee between them. I gasped as he let my wrists go, clasping my waist with both hands. Then his thumbs pressed heavenly into the base of my spine.
“Oh God.” I lost the ability to stand under such glorious torture.
“He won’t help you, Cleo. Might as well implore my name instead.”
My lips parted as he kneaded my ass, my muscles clenching as his touch turned inward. Every gentle massage sent shock waves through me as he worked his way to my belly.
“Please, Art. Touch me.”
My legs trembled as he obeyed, his strong fingers capturing my clit. His arm wrapped around me, locking our wet bodies against each other, deliberately making me aware of how damn hard he was.
“Cleo, fuck, I want you.”
I thrust my pussy harder into his touch. “More—”
My eyes flared as he sank a finger inside me.
“More?” he whispered, his voice deserting him in favor of cracked lust and sinful desire. He rocked behind me. “More of what?”
My mind filled with fizzling pinwheels as he drew tingles and wetness from my core. “More of everything. You. Your touch. Your mouth. Your…” Words escaped me as he withdrew his finger and thrust two together, stretching me, deliberately reminding I was erotically bruised from his claiming last night. “I need you, Art. So damn much.”
His teeth sank deep into my neck. His arm wrapped tighter, holding me in place as he fingered me.
My legs tried to scissor together. An orgasm hovered just out of reach. I was so turned on even the glass against my nipples was bliss.
I moaned, rocking in his hold.
Suddenly, he let me go, removing his fingers and turning off the shower.
I blinked. “What—”
“Move, Cleo. My self-control is close to snapping, but there’s something I want to do first.” Tapping my butt, he hurried me from the shower on unsteady legs. Every movement amplified the swollen need in my pussy.
He didn’t grab a towel or let me dry off. Taking my hand, he didn’t say a word as we padded wet and dripping back into the bedroom.
Traversing the floor quickly, he spun me forward, using inertia to throw me backward onto the bed. I gasped as I crashed onto my spine, staring at the man who ran a motorcycle club and made a fortune trading the markets. The man who looked at me as if he wanted to eat me alive.
Grabbing my hips, he slid me to the edge of the bed, then slammed to his knees.
My heart rate exploded, every remaining sense and atom shot to my centre.