Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 72561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
“What,” Channing cleared her throat. “What are you doing?”
I stared at her still clothed body. “Taking a shower. Want to join me?”
Not waiting for her answer, I shucked my underwear and walked towards the bathroom.
The safe house was simple in design. A kitchen. A living room. A bedroom, and a bathroom. Nothing more, nothing less.
It was in the middle of nowhere on twelve acres of land.
The floor was made of wood, and the walls were made of faux wood.
It was constructed on a budget, but it did its job by providing shelter from the elements.
The roof was tin, and with the light rain that was coming down, it sounded heavenly.
Getting to the bathroom, I turned on the water and stepped inside without waiting for it to warm.
The cool water hit me on the chest, and made my balls crawl up tight to my body, but I relished in the cool temperature.
I always took cold showers. Earlier in life, it was because my mom couldn’t afford a water heater. Over time, it became a habit. So much so that I rarely ever turned on the hot water if it was just me. Even rarer was for me to be in the shower with someone.
Hence why Channing shrieked when she stepped into the shower.
Her nipples beaded into tight turgid points as the water spread over her back and shoulders. Goosebumps pebbled her flesh, spreading from her shoulders all the way down.
“Holy shit,” she gasped. “What’s the deal? They don’t have hot water here?”
I reached forward, pressing my body against hers, and cranked the hot water until it was fully on.
Her body felt so right today, and her hips softer, almost fuller.
Her belly pressed into my abs, a small, hardened pooch there now, where before there was only softness.
Then my concentration was stolen from her stomach, to her breasts that seemed to have grown double overnight.
Hot water started to cascade down the both of us, seeping between our bodies, and pooling in the places where there was no distance between the two of us. For instance, the valley of her breasts was gathering a pool of water, held only by the press of our bodies.
Reaching forward again, I grabbed the soap and started running it along the length of her back, letting the solid bar of Dial slip and slide along her smooth skin.
She groaned and let her head fall until it was resting on my shoulder, jostling me and causing a twinge of pain to radiate through my arm.
She caught the flinch, and backed off immediately. “Oh, God. I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
When I’d gone to the hospital, I hadn’t been in nearly as much pain as I was now, which meant the lovely pain meds they’d given me were wearing off.
By the time the whole fiasco and subsequent recounting of the events was said and done, I’d been taken to the hospital where they’d cleaned the bullet wound that went through my lower forearm.
Luckily, the bullet had entered my arm and traveled directly in between the ulna and radius. Now it just hurt like a bitch. If that hadn’t happened, I would have required surgery.
“You weren’t supposed to get that wet,” Channing chided.
I looked down at the stitches in my arm and grimaced. “Yeah, well shit happens.”
“You just let me know how that works for you when your arm rots off from dysentery and Gangrene,” she snapped, gently grabbing a hold of my arm and lifting it out of the water.
She maneuvered it until I had my palm pressing against the top of her shoulder, allowing the stitches to remain water free.
“Dysentery is where you eat bad chicken and get the shits. It has nothing to do with getting your stitches wet,” I observed dryly.
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Whatever.”
Uh-oh. Them’s fighting words.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, taking my free hand and running the backs of my fingers along her lower jaw.
She closed her eyes, and leaned her head against my hurt-free shoulder.
“Nothing.”
Strike two. Whatever and nothing.
“Please tell me what’s wrong,” I said softly, giving her cheek and then her neck a soft, wet kiss.
“I’m fine.”
Strike three.
Curling my hand around her jaw with my working hand, I lifted her head until her eyes stared into mine. Then I crowded her until her bare back met the cold tiles.
Her eyes widened, and she gasped when I followed her body, pressing the entire length of my body into hers, from knees to chest.
“Tell me,” I said before giving her a punishing kiss.
The hand that had been resting on her shoulder was shoved aside, forgotten, as she threw her arms around my neck.
She buried her hands into the hair on the back of my head, and she pressed impossibly closer.
My raging cock found a home against the apex of her thighs, and I ground myself into her, eliciting a moan.
“Tell me,” I breathed against her lips.
Her tongue left her mouth, and entered mine.
Our tongues dueled, her tongue running along with mine.
She froze when the head of my cock pressed between her clenched thighs.
Smiling devilishly, she reached for the soap, got a good lather up, and ran both fists along the length of my raging cock.
When it was nice and slippery, she dropped the soap to the bottom of the shower, and then pulled me forward once again.
The head of my cock, newly lubed with the soap, slipped in between her clenched thighs. The head tunneled through the lips of her sex, and disappeared between the crack of her ass behind her.
“Ohh,” she breathed.
Pulling out until the head of my cock rested against the engorged heat of her clit, I gave short strokes forwards and back.
The head of my cock was so sensitive that I was getting just as much excitement out of it as she was.
I looked down and watched as the length of my ruddy veined cock entered and then disappeared in between her thighs.
Soap bubbles were lathering thickly along the stalk of my shaft, mingling not just with my own pubic hair, but with Channing’s as well.