Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 97994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Juliette hesitates, biting her lip. Unsure. “We haven’t even finished dinner.”
I glance at the counter: at the plates, cups, and wine glasses. Pot of pasta, pan of sauce. Then I glance down the hall toward my bedroom.
“Babe, I have a very nice shower.” And I would like to fuck you in it…
Standing up.
Water wetting your tits.
Slamming into you from behind.
“I know you do, but…” She studies me for a second. Tucks her lip between her teeth. “I have a confession. I’ve never taken a shower with a man before.” She shrugs bashfully. “I always imagine someone falling and cracking their skull open on a slippery tile.”
I cup her jaw, thumb brushing over her pouty bottom lip. “I like the idea of being close to you. No phone. No TV. No distractions. Just water and heat.”
Her eyes search mine, still uncertain but curious, like she’s calculating the risk against the thrill of it.
She exhales a small nervous laugh. “Okay. But if I slip, I’m blaming you.”
Fair enough.
I lift her from the counter with my hands around her waist and set her on her feet, leading her to the bedroom by the hand. Juliette covers her tits with her forearm, too shy to walk uninhibited down the hallway.
The stark contrast between her and the women I’ve dated before hits me hard.
They would’ve strutted bare-ass naked.
Tits and pussies out.
Had me race them to the shower, showing off, teased me mercilessly before letting me put my hands on their bodies.
But there’s nothing performative about Juliette Kennedy.
She is seductive and sexy in an entirely different way. Quiet, unguarded, unsure of the power she yields. And somehow that makes it ten times stronger…
I take her hand, guide her to the bathroom.
The space opens up like something out of an architectural digest magazine spread—floor-to-ceiling slabs of honed limestone, pale and seamless, veined in gray. The shower itself is framed in thick glass panels. The entire enclosure feels like a floating room, all of which has been washed spotless by the cleaning crew.
Matte gold fixtures punctuate the stone.
There’s a giant rainfall showerhead mounted high above, wide enough to drench two people at once. A second, adjustable head sits seven feet high on the wall, with a row of body sprays lining the tile below it.
Built-in stone bench. Cubby with my shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. Loofahs and razors.
It’s not a shower.
It’s an experience.
I start the water so it can warm, steam already curling toward the ceiling, then grab a stack of bright white towels and set them neatly on the teak bench beside the door.
Juliette has lowered her arms, baring her breasts, hands tentatively drifting to her jeans.
I don’t breathe.
She pushes them down. Steps out of them carefully. Hooks her fingers into the slender waistband of her tiny thong.
I watch spellbound as she pushes them over her hips.
Cannot peel my eyes off the blonde patch between her thighs.
“Oh,” I mutter. “Right. Me too.”
I kick my own pants off so fast I almost lose my balance, unable to keep up, frantically fumbling like a fucking loser to rid myself of clothes and get naked.
“Are you alright?” she asks sweetly.
“Totally fine,” I say, aggressively not fine, yanking my shirt over my head and tossing it to the tile floor. “Very enthusiastic.” As if my words weren’t evidence enough, my rock-hard erection should be.
We both pretend to ignore it as we step into the shower, beneath the spray, steam rising to envelope us.
It feels so fucking good…
The water hits my shoulders first, hot and steady, then splashes against her as she steps closer. She hums happily at the warmth, instinctively pressing into me, her palms flattening against my chest.
“See?” I murmur, sliding my hands around her waist. “No concussions yet.”
Juliette tilts her face up into the rainfall head.
Water streams down her hair, along her cheeks, over her shoulders. For a second, she stands there, eyes closed, smiling like this is the simplest pleasure in the world.
And for the time we’re in here, it will be.
I pull her gently under the spray with me, tucking her against my chest. The stone beneath our feet is warm, the steam thick enough to blur the edges of everything outside this glass box.
She rests her chin between my pecs. “This is kind of perfect.”
“Kind of?” I tease, hands roaming lazily over her back.
“Yes, kind of,” Juliette teases back. “You know, you’re not at all what I was expecting—the more I get to know you, the more I like you.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“Good thing,” she says quickly. “I thought you’d be more of a… I don’t know. More of a jackass.”
I laugh. “A player?” Like your brother? Who can’t keep his dick to himself?
She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“You’re the one who said you thought I was going to be more of a jackass,” I remind her, smiling as the water runs over my hands. “But yeah. I get that a lot. People think they know me before they actually do.”