Page 111 of Tangled In Tinsel & Knots
The tub is only half full, but I can’t wait anymore. My body is practically vibrating with need and restlessness. I strip off my sleep shirt, pulling it over my head and tossing it aside. My underwear follows, landing in a small pile on the floor that I’ll pick up later.
The air is cool against my overheated skin, and I shiver despite the warmth radiating from the filling tub. So I climb incarefully, testing the temperature with my toes first, then sliding down into the rising water.
Oh, it’s perfect. The heat envelops me immediately, sinking into my muscles and loosening the tension I’ve been carrying in my shoulders and back all day. All week, really.
I lie back against the curved edge of the tub, letting the water rise around me, covering my legs, my hips, my stomach, my chest. I finally shut off the faucet when the water level reaches about three-quarters full.
I slide down until the water touches my chin, stretching my legs out, letting myself float, and for the first time in hours, I feel like I can breathe properly.
The tightness in my chest eases slightly. My heart rate slows from frantic to merely elevated.
This is helping.
I hit the button for the jets, and they sputter to life with way more force than I expected. I yelp quietly, then giggle at my own reaction. The jets are cool at first, just regular water from the pipes, but they heat up quickly as the system cycles through, and within seconds, they’re pulsing hot water at various points around the tub.
This is absolute heaven.
I shift positions slightly, moving so one of the jets hits my lower back where I’ve been holding stress for days. The pulsing water works like magic on the tight muscles, and I groan softly in relief, my eyes closing.
But then those earlier tingles, the ones I’ve been desperately trying to ignore all night, the ones I’ve been pushing down and denying, come roaring back with a vengeance that steals my breath.
The ache between my thighs intensifies, becoming impossible to ignore or rationalize away.
My body knows what it needs, and it’s not spa jets and cold soda. And suddenly I’m shifting again without conscious thought, my body moving on instinct. Lifting my hips, adjusting my position, maneuvering until the powerful thrust of water from one of the jets hits exactly between my legs.
Oh.
Oh God.
The sensation is incredible, pulsing pressure right against my most sensitive area, the water fluttering against my lips, teasing and relentless and perfect.
A moan escapes my throat before I can stop it, echoing off the tile walls.
I lean forward slightly, my hips start moving on their own, seeking the perfect angle, and I let the jet work me over.
“Oh, shit, that feels so good,” I whisper to the empty room, my voice breathy and desperate.
This is what I’ve been reduced to. Using spa jets to get off when I have three extremely capable, devastatingly attractive Alphas sleeping just upstairs. Three men with enormous cocks—I’ve seen enough through tight jeans and boxer briefs to know—and I’ve even had one inside me already.
Kane’s. God, Kane’s cock was absolutely perfect that night. Thick and long and filling me so completely that I could barely form coherent thoughts, just sensation and pleasure and the overwhelming rightness of having him inside me.
Just the memory makes me clench around nothing, my inner walls squeezing, desperate for that feeling again. For the stretch and fullness and the way he moved inside me like he knew exactly what I needed.
My heart races faster, pounding so hard I hear it over the sound of the jets. My body temperature climbs despite being submerged in water. I’m moaning quietly, continuously now, my hips working in small circles to find the perfect angle, and I don’tcare about anything except chasing the release building inside me like a wave about to crest.
The pressure builds and builds, coiling tighter in my core.
I flop back against the submerged seating ledge, my hand dipping between my legs, fingers spreading myself open. I rub my clit in tight circles with two fingers, adding to the sensation of the water pulsing relentlessly against me.
My head falls back against the smooth tile edge, and small cries that I can’t contain escape my throat. The water laps against my nipples, which just breach the surface, hardened into tight peaks, and the dual sensation is almost too much.
My free hand comes up to cup my breast, thumb brushing over my nipple, and that added stimulation pushes me closer to the edge.
When my orgasm finally hits, it’s sharp and bright and all-consuming, sending pleasure radiating through every nerve ending in my body. I cry out, louder than I intended, my body shuddering and convulsing, my inner muscles clenching around nothing.
A smile curves my lips as the waves slowly ebb, leaving me floating in the afterglow.
I stay there for a long moment, catching my breath, feeling boneless and satisfied and finally,finally, relaxed.
