He was too abashed to look her in the face. She made his eyes ache, she was so beautiful. Those thick, twisting wet cables of dark hair, clinging to her shoulders, eyelashes wet and tangled. He reached for the bottle of shower gel, just to have something to do, and got to work on her, caressing her with the slippery suds. He could do this for the rest of time, particularly when he slid his hand between her legs. Soaping, rinsing, delving, until she sighed and squirmed, clenching tight around his fingers. He loved those soft silky tender bits, hidden in her wet thatch. His cock was already thickening. Even after all their inappropriate excesses. He toweled her off when they stepped out, and scooped her into his arms, carrying her back into the bedroom. Too light. She had to eat. He wasn’t going to stop bullying her about it. Probably ever. He tucked her in, lifting her wet hair, squeezing the towel around it again and again before spreading it out onto the pillow. He wanted to know everything about her, every moment she’d ever lived.
