Before she could answer, he shifted beneath her—just enough to make her weight shift forward as he eased out from behind her.
"Wait—what are you doing?" she asked, laughing, suddenly self-conscious in a way that only made her more aware of how bare she was, how on display.
He didn’t answer. Just moved with deliberate ease to kneel at the edge of the tub.
The air hit her skin like a kiss. Her back t the smooth slope of the stone, her legs parting instinctively in the water.
Nicholas leaned over her, water dripping from his hair, eyes hooded and fixed on her with a kind of reverence that made her breath catch. He trailed a hand up the inside of her thigh—under the water—until his fingers brushed her center, featherlight.
Ella gasped, her hips twitching.
"Nicholas."
He only smiled and pressed a kiss to the inside of her knee. "Relax, baby. I’ve got you."
And then, slowly—achingly slowly—he dipped lower.
Water sloshed gently as his shoulders pushed between her thighs, and then—
His mouth.
Heat. Pressure. The soft graze of his tongue, the drag of his lips, the deliberate, skilled rhythm that sent sparks blooming behind her eyes. He moved like he wasn’t in a rush, like he had all night to worship her. His hands gripped her hips gently, thumbs stroking her skin to keep her grounded as she arched into him.
Ella let out a trembling moan, one hand fisting against the stone edge of the tub, the other sinking into his hair.
Nicholas groaned in response, the sound vibrating against her, making her knees try to close—but his grip held her open.
"Stay still," he murmured against her. "Let taste you."
The words undid her.
His lips lingered at the cusp where her warmth gathered, and as if compelled by an ancient promise, he lowered his mouth, capturing her in a mont of exquisite intimacy.
His tongue moved in deliberate, slow circles, exploring with the precision of an artist. He swirled the soft heat of his tongue around her most sensitive spot, tracing gentle, teasing patterns that left Ella trembling. Her breath hitched as the sensations deepened—a delicious, intense heat that built slowly, pulse by pulse, like a symphony of desire written just for them.
"No—Nicholas... oh—" she gasped, her body arching off the edge of the bath, responding with a ferocity that both startled and thrilled him. Each tender, deliberate flick of his tongue seed to be a sentence in a fiercely passionate love letter that he was writing along her skin, a ssage in a language of primal need.
Nicholas’s moans deepened as he listened to her soft gasps and stifled cries, the sound resonating in the confined space of the steamy bath. His own pleasure built steadily as he continued, the taste and scent of her igniting sothing fierce within him. He shifted his focus, his tongue now moving more deliberately, exploring every curve as if trying to solve a tender, erotic puzzle that only she could complete.
As Ella’s body trembled under his expert ministrations, her hands instinctively gripped the cool, smooth edge of the tub. "Nicholas," she managed in a breathless, broken whisper, caught between laughter and moaning, "I’m—I’m coming..." Her voice was raw with vulnerability and desire, a declaration as much as a plea, even as her body began to quake under the exquisite build-up of sensation.
Her hips moved of their own accord, a slow grinding that urged him on. Nicholas’s eyes darkened with a mix of mischief and adoration. He intensified his efforts, his tongue dancing more urgently, deftly working to drive her higher. Each flick, each swirl of his warm tongue drew a symphony of moans from her, as if he had morized every nuance of her pleasure.
"Aah—oh, Ella," he groaned, the sound low and animal as he listened to the way she writhed beneath him. He took his ti, deliberately prolonging each sensation, savoring every trembling mont when her body shuddered and arched in response. Even as her mind swam in the euphoria of the mont, he seed to be writing an intimate ode to her pleasure—a delicious, teasing manuscript written in the language of moans and gasps.
Minutes beca tiless in that steamy cocoon where nothing existed but the heat, the water, and the unspoken promise of complete surrender. Ella’s body convulsed in waves of pleasure, a trembling response that built like an intense crescendo. Nicholas’s expert teasing, a blend of soft, tantalizing licks and asured, relentless pressure, brought her to the edge with an intimacy that felt almost otherworldly.
Her breath caught in a final, shuddering gasp, and the sound of her climax filled the space—a deep, resonant expression of release that seed to echo in the quiet steam of the bath. For a mont, ti itself seed to pause as her body convulsed, every nerve alive with the sheer, raw intensity of sensation.
Then, just as slowly as it had built, the heat subsided into a blissful, lingering afterglow. Nicholas pulled back, his lips trailing tender kisses along her inner thigh until they reached her now-sated center, where every touch still set off faint tremors of lingering delight. He watched her, his eyes soft with adoration, as she lay there in the warm water, chest rising and falling in deep, rhythmic sighs.
"Ell—Ella," he murmured, gently wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You’re incredible."
She smiled weakly, her eyes still fluttering closed in a state of bliss. "I... I hate you," she breathed out, every word filled with the weight of her emotions and the lingering satisfaction of that deeply intimate mont.
Nicholas’s smile was tender, almost reverent. "I love you more," he whispered, and for a long, quiet mont, all that remained was the peaceful, contented silence of two souls intertwined, their passion a private language that needed no further words.
The water had cooled around them, but neither of them moved.
Ella rested back against Nicholas’s chest, boneless and quiet, her fingertips skimming lazy circles across his forearm where it wrapped around her ribs. The aftershocks still pulsed gently through her limbs—more glow than ache now. His breathing was steady behind her, slower now, more relaxed, like sothing in him had settled too.
Neither of them needed to speak. The silence between them was full, not empty. A kind of silence that could only co after being seen—really seen—and touched in ways that had nothing to do with just the body.
Eventually, Nicholas stirred.
"Water’s getting cold," he murmured, brushing his nose against the curve of her neck.
Ella gave a tiny, wordless hum. "Mmhmm."
"Co on," he said softly. "Let dry you off before you start shivering."
She made a sleepy sound of protest, but let him shift behind her, his hands sliding beneath her arms to help her rise out of the tub. The air hit her skin in a gentle rush, goosebumps trailing down her arms. Before she could even reach for a towel, Nicholas was already wrapping one around her with a practiced sort of care, rubbing her shoulders and arms first, then slowly working his way down.
Reviews
All reviews (0)