Page 128 - Interior_SPRING SUMMER FALLING_2021

128 | FRANCESCA P E NN

And his mouth! I moan to myself. Henry says the dirtiest things in the heat of
the moment, and I love it. He’s so vocal, and the sexy rasp in his voice when he is
turned on drives me insane. He’s perfect mixture of rough and tender. I scoot out
of bed and remove the sheets because we messed them up pretty bad. I leave them
in a pile on the floor to retrieve after my shower.

I walk into the bathroom; I’m not uncomfortably sore, but each step is a
delicious memory. After I relieve myself and brush my teeth, I jump into a hot
shower. Damn. Even warm water falling on my body gets me hot. I’d fought the
urge to find him before my shower because I don’t know what he’s thinking. He
could be preparing to give me the “this can never happen again” speech. If he does,
I hope I don’t beg for an encore.
I wash my face. Then, I squirt my body wash into my hand and start washing
my lady parts first, removing all the stickiness. I have to do it with the upmost
attention to detail so I don’t cum. I’m still sensitive in the best ways, and the little
heifer thinks everything is a party. I can’t use a towel or my puff because even
peeing was a thrill. Rinsing almost does me in, but I hold my own. The horny side
of me campaigns for a self-induced orgasm, but the rational side knows it will only
make me crave him more. I need to be mentally sharp until I have the chance to get

a read on his mood.
I’m just starting to lather my arms and breasts when my shower door opens.
Henry is standing on the other side wonderfully naked and very much aroused. My
brain and hormones sigh in gratitude, but the rest of me is frozen which isn’t
helpful since my hands are on my breasts. I can feel the little nubs bead under my
palm. I don’t move. I can’t. I am rooted in my spot.
I know I still want him, but being faced with the reality of it again is unnerving.
What if it isn’t the same? His eyes roam over my body before pausing where my
hands are covering my breasts. He rakes his bottom lip between his teeth. Now, I
am really wet in places the shower spray can’t reach. The look in his eyes is pure sex;
I feel like the heat of his gaze caressed me.
It is unbelievable that he is able to look at me with such heat. Where did he
hide it all of the other days? It isn’t a smolder or a simmer; it is pure heat. I know
exactly what is about to happen, and my legs feel weak. He steps in and closes the
door without taking his eyes off me. My shower feels tiny with him in it. It is a big
shower, but his presence is larger than life.