Page 129 of X's and O's

I chuckled out a laugh and grabbed her fruity-smelling bodywash because I really did have penis hands and that had to be fixed immediately. I squirted a dollop onto my palm and then rubbed them together, taking care to rub down the bottle as well because I didn’t want any trace of George in here.

I didn’t want any trace of any man in here, though that would probably involve cleaning her whole room since Whip had…done things I didn’t want to think about with her in here.

So I focused on getting myself clean. The bodywash frothed up beneath my fingers, and I scrubbed my hands for a good minute before moving on to the rest of my body.

There were blood speckles up my arms, and I cringed at those before washing them away.

I should probably burn these clothes when I got home.

There was no need to be a sloppy killer, even if nobody was going to mourn the loss of George Penis Hands, the rapist and murderer.

With my arms blood-free, I bent to clean off my legs, then slowly worked my way up my body, over my thighs and stomach.

I ignored my dick, getting harder by the second because Violet still wasn’t looking away.

My gaze caught hers again, and I groaned at her expression.

It was pure heat.

“Get in here, Violet.”

I expected an argument. Embarrassment. Claims that she couldn’t possibly.

But instead, she stood and walked straight over to me, so all that separated us was a clear bit of plastic.

“Take your clothes off.”

That got more of a reaction from her. She sucked in a breath and dug her teeth into her bottom lip. “I’ve never been naked with a man before.”

Fuck, that was hot. Knowing not even Whip, with all his bragging about making her come, had seen the curves she hid beneath her oversized clothes.

It was a caveman, animal instinct to be her first. To claim her in places no other man had touched. I liked to think myself more evolved than that. My mother had brought me up as a feminist. But the idea of being the first man to have his hands all over her had my dick harder than it ever had been before.

Fuck, I wanted her. It was damn criminal the other men in her past were too stupid to see what had been right in front of them.

“Take your clothes off, Violet,” I repeated, hand falling to the erection I couldn’t ignore for another second. I stroked myself, my gaze firmly fixed on her.

She dragged off her sweatshirt with trembling fingers and dropped it on the tiled floor at her feet. A light-pink tank top stretched across her tits, and fuck me, it was light enough to see her nipples through the material.

I wanted it off her. Wanted to see her skin completely bare so when I got my hands on her, there were no barriers between us.

But she moved to her sweatpants next, dragging them down thick thighs I could only imagine wrapped around my head. She stepped out of the pants, and they joined the sweatshirt at her feet. She squeezed her thighs together in a way that would have normally had me thinking she was turned on and trying to get some relief with pressure to her clit.

But something about the way she stood made me realize she was trying to hide herself, rather than findpleasure in the body that had my dick straining for her attention.

Little black shorts covered her ass and pussy, and all I wanted was to rip them down and bury my face between her legs.

Jesus, fuck, this slow strip show was torturous. I practically strangled my cock to stop myself from coming. “Why do you still have clothes on?”

“I’m embarrassed.” Her voice was so quiet I could barely hear her over the running shower. “You’re probably used to tiny women with flat bellies and toned thighs.” She gestured to herself. “None of that here.”

I frowned at her. “Why would you assume that’s what I want?”

She sighed. “Because look at you, X. You’re gorgeous.”

I grinned at her. “I know.”

She laughed. “Super modest too.”