Page 68 of Shattered Veil

I embraced her once more, finishing my thoughts aloud with, “Nah. Just art.”

Cassie nodded, her head lolling against my shoulder as she noted, “The artist made them look messy.”

The way she said it was complimentary, and her tone made me smile softly.

“Messy art,” I told her.

“James-the-planner is covered in messy art…I like that.”

I chuckled into her neck because, somehow, she just…got it. It was messy. The ink had the outward appearance of a madman who had thrown paint at a canvas and then haphazardly tried to make sense of it all, but, in reality, it took dozens of hours and a talented artist to sink it into my skin. I always thought that it was somehow beautiful that what was covering my arms from shoulder to wrist—and similarly on my thighs, though those were in more vibrant colors—was a visual contradiction. I thoroughly enjoyed the thought of being a canvas for something that appeared to be messy when my life was typically so well thought out.

Cassie’s speaking on my tattoos fell to the wayside, then, and it was pleasant. Far more than pleasant. The steam gathered and relaxed my muscles, we sank into the feel of each other, and it was just…right.

I had wondered if joining Cassie in the shower was to be a hot and heavy, lustrous, heavy-petting affair. I had no qualms if it wasn’t, of course, but with her invitation and prior devilish smile, I had, naturally, expected it. I had thought that we would immediately explore each other’s bodies to a further extent with quick, insistent, greedy grasps, the steam along with our actions stripping our breath away and leaving us spent. And it wasn’t that being with her here, naked and wet, wasn’t alluring in all definitions of the word. It was…but there was a sensual sort of care that hung heavy in the mist and shifted the aura of the room the moment that we touched. I felt it in the way that she relaxed into my arms—in the way that she reached up to brush the side of my face while I nuzzled her cheek—in the way that she twisted her neck to look into my eyes, holding my gaze for the longest of moments as we listened to the deafening sound of the water splashing against the tile.

Cassie was the one to close the distance between us, kissing me with a gentle purpose. With slow movements that turned my bones to jelly. With sweet, quiet, appreciative noises that forced my grip on her to tighten. She reached for my right hand with hers again, guiding it away from her hip and down to between her legs.

“Just like this?” she whispered.

The water cascaded down her chest, over her arm and mine, onto our hands where they met at the apex of her thighs, and mixed with the slickness of her that covered my fingers. Her breath hitched as I slowly moved with her touch, over her pussy, up to her clit in a circle, and back.

No…hot and heavy wasn’t the descriptor that I would use for this. Hot and heavy, to me, meant pinning each other against walls—giving into depravity and all things dirty—gasping for breath and shrieking to whatever God above whilst seeking an explosive release.

Hot and heavy had its time and place…and this was not it.

This was…comfort. Passion. Ardency.

Unlike all things hot and heavy, pleasure wasn’t the only reason for our actions. It was an impending outcome, sure—a glorious side effect—but it wasn’t what was driving us forward. The sole purpose was connection. I could see it in her eyes—feel it when she sighed against me—taste it on her tongue.

And, fuck, it was heady.

I returned her hushed tone, “Show me how you want it.”

“Yes.”

Following her languid motions, I went down, up, and around; down, up, and around. I kissed her with the same patience—the same delicious tempo, at certain times with an open mouth on hers and others with a lazy lick along her neck when her head would fall back on my shoulder. My erection was hard against her backside by the time she was ushering my fingers inside of her, and I couldn’t help but moan along with her as I moved in and out.

“You like it like this?” I crooned into her ear as her head lolled back.

“Yes,” she breathed.

I nipped at the space between her shoulder and her neck, and she gasped.

“Just like this?” I asked.

“More.”

“Mmm.” I placed my lips against the area that I had bitten, her sweat caused by the heat around us salty on my tastebuds. “Faster? Harder?” My voice deepened. “Both?”

“No,” she panted, and I slowed my movements to a crawl. “I want—I want you.”

I stilled completely, and Cassie turned to seal her mouth on mine, kissing me with fervor as she hummed a noise that could only mean please.

Pulling away from her, I inquired, “Are you on any—”

“Covered. IUD,” she answered my question before I was able to finish it. “Are you…”

“Clean?” I presumed.

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