Find Me - "Naughty" Excerpt
Copyright © Afton Locke, 2020 - All Rights Reserved
He grabbed an enormous green towel and washcloth from the metal rack and set them on the vanity. “Here you go. Soap and shampoo are inside the stall. Do you need anything else?”
Their gazes caught and held…too long.
When he grabbed the belt buckle of his jeans, her gaze dropped to his hand and didn’t let go.
"I need a shower, too," he said hoarsely. "And, well, there’s no flag in here."
"I expected you to have one as a shower curtain," she joked.
But she caught his drift. Running water would mask any sounds they made in case the evil brother woke up. Without taking her eyes off Rodney’s waist, she stooped to remove her sneakers. She straightened and padded toward him in slow motion. The thick rug massaged her feet, which only fed the desire rising inside her like a high tide.
Her hands got a mind of their own as they fastened around the big, round buckle and tugged it open. He jerked his zipper down and pulled off his tank top. Her nipples tightened so hard they ached. Ever since he’d rescued her at the rally, she’d wanted him. No, before that. She’d wanted him the first time she’d heard him sing.
She ran her palms over the warm, solid planes of his chest, but he grabbed one of her hands and pulled it down. Lord, the man had a thick package. The bulge she’d always seen in his pants didn’t disappoint.
His eager erection was the best thing she’d ever felt, too. When she rubbed the length of him, a moan escaped him and he slumped against the vanity. Before she could do it a second time, he growled and peeled off her clothes.
"Don’t move," he said as he reclined against the vanity, watching her.
His gaze felt as heavy as a caress. In response, goosebumps popped up all over her flesh. Without another word, he walked her toward the shower and turned on the water. In moments, the glass-doored stall filled with steam.
Hot water pulsed over their bodies. Rodney’s hair looked even sexier wet. Long sheets of it framed his muscled flesh, which turned rosy in the hot water. His jutting organ reddened, too.
He sat on one of the built-in seats and pulled her back-first onto his lap as he had in the boat. His cock, slick and hard, rubbed against her buttocks. When would she feel it inside her? To fill her aching need? If he decided to act like a southern gentleman now, she’d scream.
With his arms around her, he leaned toward the nearby soap dispenser, built into the shower wall, and squirted a dollop of pearly fluid into his palm. It reminded her of cum, which made her cleft burn even more. With exquisite gentleness, he rubbed it over her arms, releasing its herbal scent. Going back for more and more to cleanse her legs, back, and belly.
When he lavished extra care on the scar from her stab wound, it made her recall the rally. She’d been terrified of dying until he’d carried her to safety.
I must be dreaming! Never let this shower end, even if my skin turns into a wrinkled prune.
When would he wash the parts she needed most? As if reading her mind, he palmed her breasts. Through the soapy bubbles, the warm friction of his hands against her swollen nipples sent her into the stratosphere.
Then he shut off the faucet, dropped to her feet, and nudged open her thighs.
Oh, no he isn’t...