Page 94 of Married in Michigan

“Does she know?”

I nod. “She told me to give you a chance. To do something for me.”

“Then it’s not selfish. It’s taking care of yourself, for once.” He smiles at me. “You just have to let me take care of you.”

“You want to take care of me?” I ask.

He nods. “Very much.”

“Then give me a bath, feed me, fuck me again, and then sleep with me.”

A grin spreads across his face. “I think that sounds like you taking care of me.”

“Exactly.”

* * *

That’s exactlywhat he does: he draws me a hot bath, and we soak together in the scalding hot water until we’re sweaty, and then we rinse off in his shower.

Or, at least, it starts out like that.

What really ends up happening is I get greedy. He gets worked up in the shower, scrubbing me with a bar of soap, and I can’t help but notice.

When I’m clean, I take the soap from him, lather him up starting at his shoulders, working my way down. Slowly, I scrub his chest, and then his abs, and then of course to get his thighs and ass clean, I have to go down to my knees.

I grin up at him. “I mean, since I’m down here…” I murmur.

His eyes widen. “Makayla, Jesus, you’re insatiable.”

I stroke him with both hands, eyes on his. “You have no idea.”

I take him into my mouth, and he gulps loudly. “I think I’m getting the message.”

The only way to really communicate the enormous intensity of my reawakened sex drive is to show him, and so I do. Slowly, at first, and then more vigorously. I take him deeper, using my mouth more and my hands less, and I don’t let him put me off, even though he tries to tell me I don’t need to do this, he doesn’t expect it, he’d rather be inside me.

I ignore him.

He cups my cheeks, forcing me to stop. “Makayla. Shit—stop. I want you. I need to be inside you.”

I let him slip out of my mouth. “You are inside me,” I murmur.

“Not what I meant.”

“You’ll get that again too.” I smirk up at him, my grin teasing and arrogant. “Can’t keep up, Paxton?”

I stroke him with both hands, waiting for his answer.

The water is lukewarm, but I don’t care.

“I can keep up. I can take everything you have to give, and still want you again.”

“Everything I have to give?” I echo.

He nods. “Everything.”

“Then what I want to give you is this,” I say, and plunge my mouth down around him again.

He groans, falling backward against the marble, hips tipped forward. “Fuck, Mack. Okay, okay. It feels too good to make you stop anyway.”