I scowl at Bain as he sits next to me. He’s shirtless with the bandage still covering his chest. His tattoo of Kinsey is gorgeous. Tommy does amazing work; no wonder Bain has had him do so much of his.
Finally, he stands up and stares down at me with irritation in his eyes. “Either get up, or I’ll pick you up and I’m sure it will hurt.”
I know he’s not joking so I stand on my own and take his hand as he extends it to me. Without speaking a word, he walks us to the bathroom and starts the shower. “Arms up,” he orders coming over to me.
I listen, standing with my eyes fixated on his beautiful face. Reaching down, he gently grasps the hem of my shirt and kisses me before lifting it over my head. His lips still give me a stomach full of butterflies.
Next he moves to my pants and I let him take care of me. Taking control of us and the situation the way he has so many times. As I stand naked before him, he kneels in front of me. Steam from the shower begins to fill the room, warming my body, causing me to shiver. Placing a large warm hand on my abdomen, he grabs the corner of the tape that holds the bandage to my skin. “Ready?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“God, you’re beautiful,” he says slowly peeling the tape off. I watch his tattooed hand, slow and steady. His patience and care makes any ounce of pain, vanish. Finally, he drops the ink-blood-stained bandage and stands, checking the water before shooing me in. I’m hesitant to get in without him, but he doesn’t waste a second shredding off the rest of clothes and then tearing his bandage off, as well. He showed much more care and patience with me than himself. “Are you okay?” he asks, grabbing a bottle of soap off of the counter then sliding in next to me.
“I am. Thank you, Bain. Thank you for everything.”
“Of course. Why don’t you wash mine so you can see what it feels like. You don’t need to use a lot of pressure, okay?”
I smirk at him and give my hand to him. He pumps a squirt of soap in it and says, “Wash your hands first.”
I listen and then reach out for more soap. He gives it to me and I rub a lather together before pressing it against his hard chest. He doesn’t look at what I’m doing, he only watches my eyes. I make small circular motions over the beautiful portrait of Kinsey. When the tattoo was finished and Bain’s chest was compared to the actual picture, they were identical.
“That’s enough,” he says and turns into the water, the soap rinsing away leaving a masterpiece. Below it is our matching quote, which I absolutely love. Holding out the soap, he squirts some on his fingers and goes to touch my tattoo. I freeze waiting for his fingers to make contact with my skin. “Are you okay if I do this?”
I nod my head and he holds my hip with one hand and takes the other, leaving gentle strokes, soothing my angry skin. “This looks so fucking hot on you.”
I can’t help the smile that covers my face. “Rinse now,” he commands.
I rinse and turn the water off. Both of us are so hot for one another that you could cut the tension in the air with a knife. I know what I want. I want Bain and his cock to do what he does best and I want it now. Watching him move the white towel over his body almost makes me tear it away. I get bits and pieces of Mr. Sexy Man as he dries himself. Sex. Sin. Cock. Tattoos. Then just when I can’t take anymore, he drops it.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I warn. His eyes are hooded and his stance shows he’s about to take me at any moment. “Better run, then.”
I lick my bottom lip and bolt out of the bathroom, stark naked. The cool breeze on my skin chills me, not to mention how it makes the skin of my tattoo tingle. Bain is right behind me, his presence this close is not something that can go unnoticed. I don’t make it far, weaving in and out of this elegant home, before he catches me by one of my wrists.
I spin in his hold and he turns me back towards him.
“Gotcha, beautiful.”
I laugh and give in to him, the same way I always do.
“Maybe I wanted you to.”
“We’ll have to see about that,” he says scooping me up in his arms and taking me into the bedroom. He uses extra caution, holding me to make sure that his hand doesn’t touch my tattoo nor does he move in a way that will irritate it. Gently, he lays me on the bed and says, “Stay there.” I listen, sitting up and watching him walk back into the bathroom. He comes out with a bottle of Aquaphor and squirts a dab on his finger then straddles my legs with his and begins to very gently apply a thin coat.
“You gotta keep it moist, but don’t suffocate it, okay?”
“I think you better keep it moist,” I respond reaching down and grabbing his cock. Holding it tightly in my grip, he shakes his head and puts some ointment on his tattoo. Then as he wipes his hands, his hips begin to move in my hold, pushing in and out. “You want me to cum on you?”