Mortified, heart thumping wildly, Marley rolled onto her side, pressing her br**sts and pelvis against the tub so he couldn't see her body. "What the hell are you doing in here?" she said, her voice high and shrill and shaking with embarrassment.
He started walking toward her and Marley gripped the tub tighter, wishing more than anything she weren't naked. With her right hand, she tried to gather bubbles to cover her butt. Maybe he hadn't been able to tell what she'd been doing.
"I'm watching you touch yourself."
Shit. "Well, stop it! That's rude." And humiliating, embarrassing, mortifying, Drano-drinking-suicide inspiring.
Damien picked up the little table and moved it out of the way. He crouched down next to her, face close, voice low and raspy. "No, I'm not going to leave because you look absolutely beautiful, and I have to watch you finish."
Marley gasped. She must look like a hooked trout, bug-eyed and mouth gaping, but he was on crack if he thought she was going to just keep going with an audience. "I don't think so."
"You have a choice. Either you can finish, or I'll do it for you."
No response came to mind. Marley wanted to tell him to get the hell out, that neither of them was going to be finishing her, but the words never formed. It seemed like she should be completely yanked out of the mood, that her arousal should have cooled, frozen out by mortification. But she was naked, her inner thighs were still wet, her hot ni**les were pressing against the cold smooth tub, and Damien du Bourg was staring at her with a healthy dose of lust in his eyes.
She was still turned on, no doubt about it. But that didn't mean she could swallow that lump in her throat and give him an answer.
"You don't have a preference?" he asked, running his finger over her bottom lip. He gave her a light kiss, the pressure teasing, the tip of his tongue flitting in and out, before he pulled back. Marley gave a sigh of disappointment.
"If you can't, then I'll choose for you." He pushed on her shoulder, rolling her back into the water, the limp bubbles sloshing over her belly, clinging to her pubic hair. Marley grabbed the side with her right arm so she wouldn't entirely lose her balance and look like a rolling whale.
She tried to cover up, tried to fight panic, tried to shift so he couldn't see everything, but Damien gripped her arm and lifted it so she was exposed to him. Her breath caught, and she ignored her hair when it won the fight against her hairclip and oozed down her neck and into the water.
The moment strolled on and on, the only sound in the room her ragged breathing, Damien's steady breathing, the lapping of the water against the tub.
Then, still watching her, Damien took her hand and covered her middle finger with his mouth, burying her in the hotness, his tongue slipping and flicking along her skin. She shifted, startled, heat flooding her womb, wanting to pull away, wanting even more to stay. He took her now wet finger, his own over the top of it, and caressed around her nipple, down her belly, and without preamble, sank them both together into her moist body.
Instinctively, she clamped her legs closed. She couldn't do this. It was too much, too arrogant, too defiant for her and her natural, cringing modesty. With a force borne of desperation, she managed to free her finger from under his and grip the edge of the tub. "No, Damien, I can't."
The words were barely out of her mouth when his tongue laved across her nipple, nearly making her leap out of the tub. The hot taste of desire mingled with embarrassment in her mouth, and she fought the panic, wrestled it aside, so she could enjoy the pleasure he was bringing to her. His finger worked inside her, stroking with just the right speed, just the right pressure, just the right attention given to her hard clitoris, while his mouth did delicious and skilled things to her br**sts. He licked and sucked, bit and tugged, until she was moaning, throwing her head back, letting her eyes drag half shut.
"If you can't, can I?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, not even hesitating. It was her choice, that was clear, and she was choosing to take what he was offering.
"Thank you," he said, before his mouth covered her nipple again.
That made Marley smile, that he acted like she was doing something for him instead of vice versa. But her grin dissolved into a groan when he pressed his thumb inside her.
"Oh, God," she said in utter delight, than was appalled at herself for using the name of the Lord in vain. Not just in vain, in sex. Her cheeks flushed, and she tried to back up, tried to move away, because this was wrong. It had to be wrong.
But his strong arms held her down as he leaned over her, his T-shirt brushing over her shoulder, his head bent to pleasure her br**sts, his hair tickling her warm sensitive flesh. He moved slowly, torturously, touching her everywhere, stroking and coaxing until she couldn't remember why she shouldn't do this, why she couldn't embrace the feelings he was stoking in her.
The room was humid, the candles sending thin ribbons of smoke up because she hadn't trimmed the wicks, their flames casting a flickering light over Damien's face, over his stern jawbone, his straight nose, moist lips. A drop of water clung to his chin and she reached out, swiped it off, amazed at how gorgeous he was, how perfectly masculine, hard and fierce. Her gesture caught his attention, and he turned from her br**sts to give her a searing kiss, hot and reckless, while his finger stopped gliding politely and instead thrust hard and demanding inside her.
While his mouth controlled hers, his free hand lifted her leg, hooked it over the edge of the tub. It lifted her backside and belly automatically, spread her thighs farther for him, and Marley gasped, grabbing at his shoulder. She wanted to tell him how that pressure felt, how his touch had her insensible, how she felt each stroke in every inch of her body, but there were no words. Her mind was wrapped up in pleasure, foggy and drunk with desire, and she clenched her legs, forced herself higher to meet him, to make his thumb go deeper.
But he pulled it out entirely and Marley yelled an involuntary, "No! Don't stop."
His answer was to bend over, cup her slick backside with his wet hands, and bury his mouth in her. The first touch of his tongue sent her jerking in ecstasy, nearly bucking him off, but he held on. The second touch, where he swirled over her clitoris, made her shudder, and the third, when he sucked, shot her into an orgasm.
It was a good one, the kind that hung on and on, clinging like the moss outside the window, digging in and staying, long after it could have dropped away. Marley heard the sounds that came from her mouth, saw the top of Damien's head, felt the hard tub against her shoulder, but it was through a haze, her mind separated from her body.