“Stand in the bath-tub.” Naked, holding his hands, I lift my foot and step backward into the tub, my other foot following. “Good girl.” Letting go of me, he places both hands on my belly and gently pushes me back until I feel the touch of the cool wall behind me. I jolt at the coldness, and laugh at my surprise.
He leans forward, and I kiss him greedily. My hands are splayed flat on the tile behind me, keeping my balance. He captures my right breast with one hand, twisting and pulling the nipple, and I moan and kiss him harder.
His other hand slips between my legs, and my knees buckle, my hands slipping on the wall. Quickly, he draws firm slippery swirls on my clit with one finger, another sliding within me. I shudder on his hand, my knees threatening to give way. We are still kissing, and I lose myself in the feeling of his tongue, his hand, his fingers.
He lifts his lips from me, watches me with lidded eyes as I grind myself on his hand. “That’s it, my love,” he murmurs as I begin to shudder, “Come for me.”
I groan deeply and lean into his shoulder, and hot liquid splatters down my thighs, across his hand and onto my feet.
He captures my mouth and we kiss again, my knees trembling but neither of us caring. My feet are firmly balanced, and his hand at the crux of me keeps me from slipping down.
“I do adore you,” I whisper in his ear as I buck, buck harder, and then come again in waves like the tide coming up.
“As I do you,” he replies, holding me safe and unfalling, knowing that any more orgasms will send me to the bottom of the tub. After a minute, when I have regained my balance and will not fall, he warms the water and gently cleanses me, rubbing me clean as he rubbed me dirty so recently.