Page 95 of Campfires & Canines
Tentatively, I brush his silky hair out of his face. “Good morning to you.” I bite my lip. I want to kiss every inch of his skin, but his emerald eyes hold me captive.
They gleam playfully. Without warning, he pushes me back and rolls over me. I shriek, giggling as he nibbles my neck. His dark hair brushes against my jaw. I squirm under him, his erection nudging my thigh. My knees fall open wider automatically.
He kisses my cleavage before biting there too. Not hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough to make my eyes roll back in my head. I hope it leaves a hickey.
“Slate,” I say.
He hums in return, his mouth hot on my ribs, working his way lower.
“I’m filthy. I got mud in your bed.” Cringing, I tug the edge of my shirt. Spots of dried mud have soaked into the fabric.
“Don’t worry, I have other sheets,” he says with an amused smirk. “But how about we get you cleaned up?”
Taking my hand, he leads me into his bathroom and flips the shower faucet to hot. “I’m capable of showering on my own,” I protest.
“Yes, but maybe I don’t want to be away from you,” he responds, dragging my shirt over my head and placing a kiss on my shoulder.
I grip the sink, a bolt of excitement running through me as he pulls his shirt off, followed by his pants. With a kiss to my stomach, he slides my leggings down, lifting each foot to tug them off.
When he stands, I can’t help but launch myself at him. It’s the first time we’ve been entirely bare with nothing between us. His kisses are scorching as he walks me backward into the shower. We’re crowded together in the small space, hot water sluicing between our bodies.
Steam billows around us, and I groan in pleasure when the scalding water hits my shoulders and soaks into my hair.
Slate lathers shampoo through my hair, gently untangling it with his fingers. His nails scrape across my scalp, making me shiver. I rotate to see his shaggy hair slick on his neck, water dripping over his cheekbones and lips.
Entranced, I frame his face with my hands and draw him to me. My body is aching for his, and I show him with slow, sensual kisses. I struggle to breathe, I’m so overwhelmed by the feeling of him. It washes away the last three days, leaving room for nothing but our connection.
My hands slip down his wet skin, loving the tapered shape of his back muscles as he shifts under my touch.
“I love your hair,” he says, twisting it around his fist while he scrapes his teeth across the fading claim mark. Electricity sparks everywhere he touches. My hands wander lower and he sucks in a breath as I wrap my fingers around his cock, stroking down and up. “What are you doing?” he rumbles.
“You don’t want me to?” I ask innocently.
“Of course I want you to.” He tugs my hair, angling my head so he can capture my mouth again. His kiss stills as I stroke his length again. “But I can’t do everything I want to do to you in this shower.”
“Want to get out then?” I purr, anticipation swelling within me.
“In a minute,” he says, his rough voice caressing me even while his calloused hands grip my hips possessively.
He spins me, hauling my ass up against his cock. Startled, I fling my hands up against the tile walls on either side of me to balance. “Good girl, just hold still,” he murmurs against my neck. This man will be the death of me.
I shiver even in the hot water, trying desperately to obey as one hand cups my breast, water running over his hand, while the other hand wanders lower.
“I can’t believe I waited this long to get my hands on you,” he says, grazing the skin below my ear with his lips while his fingers skim the apex of my thighs. I jolt at the contact and his other hand tightens across my chest, holding me flush against him.
“Sorry,” I mutter.
He nips my ear lobe. “Don’t be.”
Each breath is heavy, the air thick with steam. His fingers sweep lower, teasing my core, before slipping one inside. My body arches, and his grip tightens. “I told you to stay still.” The hand onmy breast glides higher, stroking my neck and sending sparks down my spine.
A second finger joins, and he starts to pump them in and out until I moan. His thumb presses against my clit. Panting, I scramble to anchor myself, hands slipping over his slick skin.
“I can’t…” I whimper, words dropping away as the pressure threatens to send me over a cliff.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, and I can hear the smirk in his voice. I shake my head, my hair falling heavily around my shoulders as the water drips over them and runs down my stomach.
His motions begin to accelerate, and can barely stand, leaning heavily against him for support. “Let me see you come again,” he says, his voice scraping over me. It flings me over the edge and I gasp, throwing my head back. Water hits my cheeks and parted lips. His adept fingers draw out the shaking tension until I am about to lose my sanity entirely. Without his hand across my stomach, I would collapse. Heart racing, I gulp down air. When I finally open my eyes, he’s watching me with a satisfied look on his face.
