SLOW HANDS

Sex had never been like this for Timothy. Never before had reason fled so completely, to be replaced by pure mating instinct, the visceral, primordial need to join himself with another. He suspected the same was true for Chloe. She moved like a wild thing beneath him, locked into an age-old rhythm, uttering guttural, uninhibited sounds that pushed him right to the edge. She curled a leg around his thigh as if to lever herself over him. Timothy easily rolled the two of them to position her on top. Her slim thighs flexed under his fingers as she raised and lowered herself, drawing him into her slippery, welcoming heat. He slid his hands over her hips, her slender waist, up her rib cage and higher.

Her breath caught as he stroked those beautiful, dainty breasts and plucked the stiff tips. Her feminine muscles tightened around him, and he groaned and laughed at the same time, perilously close to climax.

He felt Chloe’s fingers on his face, her touch soft and delicate as she traced his features. She stroked his eyelids and brushed her fingertips over his lashes. Her fingers moved down his nose and across his cheek, where they discovered his dimple.

“You’re smiling,” she said.

“I’m happy.” His hands caressed her everywhere as the two of them moved in tandem..

Her fingers lit on his mouth, as if to silence him. Perhaps she wanted to think of this as pure physical gratification, nothing more. A simple act of sex devoid of the threat posed by intimacy and emotional entanglements. His lips grasped her fingertip and his tongue teased it. A little sound escaped her. Her movements became faster, more frenzied. Clasping her hips, he angled them, and his own, so he’d stroke her in just the right place.

Chloe’s hair whipped Timothy’s face. Urgent sounds escaped her as she reached for her release. He felt it gather in her, felt her body tense, and shudder, and rock under the force of it, felt her intimate flesh contract around him, urging him to let himself go. Timothy bucked hard under her, clamping his fingers around her hips, emptying himself in waves of pure scalding pleasure. She collapsed on top of him. After a moment they shifted to lie entwined, their lungs pumping like bellows, their hearts galloping in unison.

After a while, she snuggled closer to him and he asked, “Are you cold?” They were both naked and damp with sweat, and the room was chilly. She nodded and groped with her feet for the robe he’d discarded earlier.

“I have a better idea,” Timothy said, and pulled her up with him.

A scant minute later, Chloe found herself standing under the hot spray of the shower with Timothy . In the diffuse light filtering through the steam and the smoked-glass shower doors, he looked like sin incarnate, with his strong, finely hewn features, his swarthy coloring and that incandescent smile. Not to mention his powerful, perfectly proportioned body, revealed to her in its entirety.

Timothy had the kind of muscle definition that resulted from hard work and a high-octane lifestyle. His chest was wide and hard, with just the right amount of crisp dark hair, tapering over a flat, corrugated belly and thighs thick with sinew. Chloe pushed her wet hair off her face and watched him roll the bar of soap in his hands, looking her over as if deciding where to start. She could have told him that certain parts of her were even now clamoring for his attention, but something told her that Timothy would work his way around to them eventually. He brought the clear, blue-green soap to his nose. It was a natural glycerine soap scented with a distinctive fragrance called Mist. Timothy’s eyes held an appreciative glint as he said, “Smells like you. Turn around.”

She did, letting the spray pummel her front as Timothy spread lather on her back. His big hands moved in circles down to her waist and over the flare of her hips.

He murmured, “You’re exquisite, Chloe.”

The buzz of sensual awareness had never left her, and now it grew stronger as he lazily washed her, paying close attention to the sensitive skin of her bottom. His slippery fingers caressed her, kneaded the muscles, lightly skimmed up the rear cleft, sending an electric jolt through her. Chloe leaned her palms on the tile wall and raised her face to the spray as Timothy gave the same loving attention to her legs. Each time his fingers stroked up the insides of her thighs, they inched a little higher. She was trembling slightly when he turned her to face him.

Her gaze moved from the soap he was rolling between his palms, to his face. The hint of a smile touched his dark eyes, along with something else, something that caused a tingle of anticipation to race along every nerve ending. Chloe felt almost drugged as she watched his hands, so dark and rough in contrast to her skin, slide up and down her arms, lathering them thoroughly, massaging each finger in turn. Slowly he rubbed the bar of soap across her shoulder and circled one breast, his intense gaze following its progress. She felt the nipple tighten, felt a voluptuous heaviness settle between her legs.

Never, had she wanted to have sex twice in one night. Now, for the first time ever, she was eager for a repeat performance. Chloe knew it had nothing to do with her protracted period of abstinence. What she and Timothy had just shared was a first for her. Dropping her gaze, she saw that she wasn’t the only one ready for round number two. Timothy remained rampantly, unashamedly aroused as he smoothed lather over both breasts with the painstaking care of a pastry chef icing twin cakes. He paid special attention to the erect peaks before directing his attention to her stomach, hips and thighs, leaving a frothy layer of bubbles in his wake.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

“When do I get my turn?” Chloe asked.

“I’m not finished.” Timothy proved it by pressing a soapy hand between her legs, which immediately threatened to buckle. “But if you’d rather I stopped…”

“No!” Chloe grabbed his shoulders for support as his slick fingers began a leisurely exploration. “Don’t stop.”

And he didn’t. He caressed her with loving skill as his other hand tipped her head back. He sipped at the water trailing over her eyelids. He licked the droplets clinging to her lips. She shivered. Her legs parted, of their own accord. So did her mouth. His tongue slipped between her lips as his fingers circled her most sensitive spot, wringing a groan of pure animal need from her.