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He gave me a heated smirk. “Turn around. Let me wash you off.”
“It’s just an excuse to look at my ass,” I retorted.
“So what if it is?” He put the soap back in place and began running the loofa in slow circles around my shoulders, my neck, my upper back and slowly my lower back. He took his time, in no rush to cover the extra surface area.
He followed the loofa with his hands, sliding easily over my soapy skin. And then he reached my ass. He lowered to his knees and pressed his hand over my back, urging me to lean forward. The shower stream hit my mid back, dousing both of us as he pressed his nose to my sex.
He ran his fingertips over my hip, along the split of my ass, and then along my slit, front to back. Then he slipped two fingers inside me, stretching my tender pussy.
“Fuck, Jonas,” I breathed.
He slid his fingers in and out, saying, “Tell me what you were imagining that night, in the shower, while you were touching yourself.”
I braced one hand against the wall, tugging at my nipples with the other hand. “I was thinking about you,” I gasped.
He moved his fingers from my pussy and used the slickness of our cum to tease my clit in slow circles that made my breath come fast. “What about me?”
“I wanted to get out of the shower, soaking wet, and lie in your bed until you found me.”
“Fuck,” he moaned. He stood up, pressing his body against me; his cock was hard against my ass. With one hand, he cupped my breast, and the other reached around my hip, resuming those slow, tantalizing circles. “What next?”
“I imagined you finding me, tangling your fingers in my wet hair and fucking me senseless,” I breathed.
“I would have,” he said, his voice rough against my ear. “Just fucking thinking about you in that shower made me so damn hot.”
He licked his fingertip, then sped his circles around my clit, pushing me closer to the edge. His other hand roamed my body, my breasts, my stomach, my hips, while his mouth kissed and nibbled at my neck, my shoulders.
“I was thinking about you taking a shower, standing in the same place I came,” I said, rolling my head back to rest on his shoulder. Just as I imagined, he tangled his fingers through my wet hair, pulling me back tighter against him.
“I was so fucking pissed when I saw their names on your phone the next morning.” He bit my earlobe and said, “I’m going to make you come again, and again, and again, and you’re going to forget all about them.”
He was right. I couldn’t think about anyone else as he pushed me closer and closer to the edge. I came and came and came, and Jonas was the only person on my mind.
25
Jonas
When we got out of the shower, I went to the linen shelves and said, “Come here.”
Mara stood in front of me, comfortable in her nakedness, beautiful in her shining wetness. I picked up a towel and ran it over her arms, her legs. Took her hair and pressed the towel around it, soaking all the water. And when I was done, I handed her a new one so it would be perfectly dry and warm.
She took it, pressing the water away from her flushed cheeks. She looked beautiful. And part of me still couldn’t believe what we’d just done. That I’d been the one to do it with her.
I got a towel for myself and dried off before walking to the bedroom with her and slipping on some sweatpants.
“You know what sounds amazing?” she said.
I finished pulling up my pants and turned toward her. “What’s that?”
“Ice cream,” she finished. “And a soapy romance movie. It’s my favorite way to end the day.”
“Soapy?” I asked, not familiar with the term.
“You know, like soap opera-esque.”
“Let’s do it,” I said with a chuckle. I couldn’t think of anything I’d rather be doing than hanging out with Mara doing whatever she wanted to do. Usually in the evenings, I just watched TV since I went to the gym in the mornings. During tax season especially, I didn’t have time for much else. “You pick a show and I’ll dish us up some bowls?”
“Sounds great.” She lifted a pillow off my bed and held it up. “For your uncomfy couch.”