We cuddled on the bed after another shower. And no, no s*x. I mean, I was drained. He had to massage my p***y during the bath, though.
It was so funny.
I couldn’t stop laughing as I replayed the moment in my head. “You really took your time in the bath,” I teased, my cheek pressed against his chest. His skin was warm, his heartbeat steady and comforting.
He smirked, his fingers lazily tracing circles on my back. “You weren’t complaining when I helped you relax.”
I looked up at him, narrowing my eyes. “Relax? You were playing.”
“I don’t play,” he said, his tone serious, though the mischievous glint in his eyes gave him away.
I poked his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath my fingertip. “Liar.”
He chuckled, the sound vibrating through me. “You’re cute when you’re accusing
