Page 257 of Satan's Spawn
It feels amazing, even when his inexperience has him pinching and pressing harder than he should.
“Am I doing okay?” Crayton asks, focusing so hard on the task it’s adorable.
“You really are…” I sigh deeply, allowing the water to add more pampering. “Please don’t stop.”
Crayton stays silent, but I can hear the determination in his breaths.
Knuckle rolling, finger pressing, palm circles, all improvisions to relieve me of pain.
He takes his time, and before I know it the cramps dissipate, and in their place is an overwhelming sense of warmth, but it has nothing to do with the temperature of the water.
Reaching a hand behind me to touch his cheek, I crane my neck to look at Crayton. He’s still focused but my attention on him is breaking it.
He blinks through the falling water barraging our faces. “What is it? Am I fucking this up?”
I answer him with a kiss to his lips, one so intense it has Crayton pausing his massage to slide his hands to my waist.
We stay this way, our tongues dancing and bodies intertwined.
The mood shifts from sensual to sexual seconds after Crayton presses the erection behind his pants into my ass.
“I know something else that can relieve those cramps of yours,” he mumbles into my mouth.
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” I trail a line down the dragon tattoo on his arm with a single digit.
Crayton’s hand is moving again, this time past my abdomen to the area between my legs.
Oh.
“I don’t—”
“Shhh…” Crayton licks a line across my bottom lip. “Let me take care of you.”
His fingers are already strumming my pussy, making me tense knowing what he may find down there.
“The door…” I say frantically, hoping it will deter him.
“Is being watched by Riggs.”
Doesn’t this guy have anything better to do than play lookout for Crayton every time I shower?
“This is a terrible idea. I’m gross right now.”
“Relax…” he whispers, toying with me more.
I try my best to do just that…especially when I feel him at my entrance.
My eyes squeeze shut—and Crayton must sense my trepidation because he hesitates long enough for me to think maybe I swayed him.
Of course I didn’t.
I hitch when he slides his fingers inside, holding them there as a low growl pushes past his lips.
“So fucking warm,” Crayton hums, which vibrates against my ear, and by the time he’s moving again, I’m a goner.
Sore, yes, but also hyper sensitive to his skillful touch.
A tiny moan grows when Crayton finds that special spot and works it over.
