Page 19 of On Thin Ice

I wondered if he was planning to join me in the tub or if he was going to scrub my back or something else. As I lowered myself into the water, he sat down on the toilet to untie and remove his shoes. The warmth felt inviting and the bubble bath smelled good, but I couldn’t quite figure out the scent. There was a slight almond smell to it, much like a cherry-almond lotion I had back home. The familiar scent and the warmth surrounding my body helped me relax, even though I was nervous about what would happen next—because, despite wanting Sinclair, this was very new territory for me. I began thinking it might have been better if he’d just taken me in the library, because I wouldn’t have the stress of anticipation.

But as he stood and unbuckled his belt, I told myself that anticipation was a good thing—and this had been something I’d been imagining for a while now. The ends of my hair were falling in the water, so I tried twisting it all into a ponytail and then a bun, trying to get it to hold itself. After Sinclair set his belt on the counter, he opened a drawer and pulled out a plastic hair clip. “This should help.”

Although he was right, I wondered again who this belonged to—but, if I were going to go through with this, I had to put it out of my mind. I hadn’t seen Sinclair with another woman since I’d arrived, even though that didn’t mean much…but he hadn’t brought a woman home to the best of my knowledge and I didn’t believe he’d talked to any women on the phone in my presence. Even his female employees who’d been at the dinner didn’t seem to have designs on him and vice versa.

So I could either choose to be jealous of what I thought were remnants of a previous partner…or I could let go and trust this man.

And I did—I trusted him. Maybe not completely. There were still business matters between us that I hesitated over…but here and now, he had my complete and utter faith.

And desire.

Especially when he unzipped his pants and removed them. Underneath he wore a pair of black boxer briefs, hugging him closely, and when he turned to set the pants on the counter, I got a nice look at his rear end.

He was a beautiful man. I couldn’t help but think of Michelangelo’s David statue. Of course, in high school, no teacher had directed students to it, but I’d been fascinated by the Renaissance and had specifically tried to find every work of art created by both Michelangelo and da Vinci. I’d seen the David statue from every angle, marveling at how Michelangelo had made stone almost bend to his will to create something so perfect. Hundreds of years later, it was still admired.

When I saw Sinclair’s ass, I couldn’t help but think of that statue.

But when he turned around, Sinclair’s work on the weights in his gym made his pecs bigger than what I thought the statue’s seemed. And something else…as Sinclair pulled his boxers off, what I saw was far bigger than the statue.

Of course, it was engorged, something I’d learned about in sex ed in middle school, one of those topics that had made half the girls giggle and the rest of us blush and wish we’d been anywhere else. I’d tried to imagine it in my mind and had even checked it out on Wikipedia—but that had been enough. In the flesh was much different from real life.

If he minded that I was staring, he didn’t show it. He was bigger than I’d expected and I tried not to think about how it would feel inside me.

But I knew that was what it was meant to do…so it would feel good. That was what I told myself.

Swallowing, I forced my eyes to his and he smiled as he approached the tub. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.”

“Slide forward a bit.” When I did, he stepped in behind me. As he sat, he slid his legs around mine so that, when I slid back, I was cradled in his body.

His manhood was pressed against me. I felt excited and jittery and even silly, wondering what I should call it. Back in high school, I’d heard girls in the bathroom call them anything other than the clinical name penis. Most frequently, I’d heard the word dick, but sometimes they used it as an insult. I’d also heard cock and once a girl called her boyfriend’s member a python.

Well…until he asked me to actually talk about it, I didn’t need to call it anything—but I found it quite titillating against my back.

And it was as if he could read my mind. “Are you nervous?”

“A little.”

“Don’t be. I’ll take good care of you.” And then he began kissing my neck. He’d been resting his hands on his thighs, but now they began to explore….one began tickling one of my pebbly nipples while the other eased my leg down on to his before tickling the inside of my thigh. My pussy clenched and ached, wanting to feel him.

And he finally obliged.

I closed my eyes, relishing all the sensations, hardly aware of how I was breathing deeper, how my body was responding to his touch. Soon, his finger was moving through the folds of my lady parts before it arrived at the one spot that was throbbing and needy, and I wondered how he’d found it so easily.

A gasp escaped my throat. He continued the motion and I wasn’t about to stop him, because this was a sensation that felt so natural and so foreign at the same time. Then he nibbled my ear and removed his hands so that they both rested on my thighs. “Just warming you up a little bit.”

I could barely speak. “I’m plenty warm.”

“Then maybe it’s time to get out.”

Again, my body tensed, nervous once more at what was coming but also excited. He stepped out first onto the mat before holding out a hand for me. There weren’t many bubbles left so there were none on my skin, but goosebumps appeared on my arms and my nipples tightened as the water dripped off my body.

Pulling a towel off the rack, Sinclair wrapped it around my shoulders to bring me close and kissed me, long and luxurious, waking up my nerves again. Then he gently dabbed at my skin—my arms, my back, my front, pausing to kiss a nipple before dabbing at my legs. Next, he quickly dried himself off and I couldn’t help but look at his dick again—it wasn’t as hard as it had been before, but it wasn’t floppy either. I couldn’t stop myself from touching it. Seeing pictures was one thing—but this was my first real encounter.

I took it in both hands, surprised at how smooth it felt at first—but as I moved along, it engorged fully again, feeling almost angry: hard and swollen, ready to punish something for pleasure.

My pussy grew wet again just thinking about it.

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