“My turn,” he demands once he’s done with his magic on my feet.
I blink up at him. He’s made me as boneless as an overcooked noodle and now I’m supposed to do the same? I wouldn’t even begin to know how.
Grateful for feeling so very good, I’m willing to try. Except how am I even supposed to reach his shoulders? “You’re too tall,” I grumble.
Rolling his eyes, Cross sits on the bench.
That helps.
I’m by no means a professional masseuse but I copy what he did to me, doing my best to feel tension through his skin as I work his musky foam over his shoulders, biceps and triceps and many-ceps.
I am completely naked in front of a man who’s just at eye level with my tits, but I don’t let that bother me, kneeling to attack his thick thighs, his shins, his feet.
“You’ll have to stand so I can do your ass,” I say once I’m finished, willing myself no to stammer.
Cross’s eyes are molten gold, equal part amusement and heat as he stands. Three heartbeats later, I realize he won’t make things easy for me. I’m supposed to be the one removing his boxers. I’ve done my best not to properly look. The drenched white fabric leaves little to the imagination.
Little isn’t the right word for the thick, hard length pressed against him. The moment I roll the fabric past his hips, his cock bounces, pointing straight at my mouth.
“That’s familiar,” Cross teases.
I groan at the embarrassing memory of the last time I saw his cock, half tempted to suck it just to show him I could actually do it well. But this is his hour, and that’s not what he asked for.
I wash his ass, his balls, the length of his cock, before standing, satisfied to have done my best as part of our bargain this time. Though why he only asked for a shower when he could have done anything to me, I can’t even begin to guess. I don’t have my phone or a watch, but I’d guess most of the hour’s gone.
Maybe he just likes it.
Cross bends down and once against lifts me up into his arms, though this time we’re skin to skin and I can’t help being conscious of his hard cock right against my leg.
Uncaring of how wet we both are, he lets me down on top of his bed, right at the edge, and proceeds to get on his knees. He spreads my legs wide and all my muscles tense as he brings his mouth right at the apex of my thighs.
Fuck.
Cross wields his tongue with a unique mastery, curling, dragging along my folds, twirling around my clit. My ex tried to go down on me twice and lost patience when I didn’t immediately praise him like he was a god sent to all womankind. Cross devours my cunt like it’s his favorite delicacy and he could spend forever between my thighs.
I whine, I moan, I whimper, my back arching, my hands seeking his thick silky hair.
I have never felt like this in my entire life. Cross relaxed me so much in that shower I can’t bring myself to feel any shame or hesitation; I just feel. And he’s unleashed his proficiency in the art of eating pussy mercilessly. Liquid heat pools inside me astendrils of arousal energize my entire body down to my curving tiptoes. I’m going to come harder than ever, harder than I ever have with a cock, a vibrator, or my own fingers. My hips move up and down to feel more, but Cross’s hands pin them into place as he takes his time.
That’s when an alarm rings.
Cross immediately moves up to his feet, leaving me, legs spread, eyes wide. I stand up to stare at him.
He grins, retrieving a fancy watch from his black bedside table.
“The hour’s up, love,” he tells me. Then the asshole has the gall to wink.
I watch him walk around his room, to a chest of drawers where he retrieves clean boxers and a shirt, before putting on gray sweatpants.
“See yourself out when you’re ready,” he tells me.
Then he leaves the room.
I blink in confusion, still in the exact same position he left me.
It hadn’t occurred to me that this was a game until now. But clearly, the dick won.
13