“Oh gross, I do smell like dog,” she said. “Let’s continue this in the shower.”

She slipped her garters, lacy thong, and stockings down her legs, leaving the remainder of her clothes and her shoes in a tangle on the living room floor. Struck dumb by the sight of her glorious nude form streaking through his house toward the bedroom, Gabe didn’t blink until she was completely out of sight.

He stripped off his clothes where he stood—from ball cap to tennis shoes—and followed Melanie into his bedroom.

He heard the spray of water and Melanie’s, “What in the world?” echoing off the bathroom tiles.

He supposed she’d just discovered he didn’t have an average, everyday shower. His was a shower designed for a thorough cleaning. And if one was so inclined to utilize the showerheads advantageously, an added kick of pleasure.

He watched her sidestep out of the jet of water spraying her in the ass in favor of the overhead flow that she used to wet her skin as she lathered on the soap. Most of the showerheads were currently off. How would she respond to getting sprayed from all directions?

He smiled, knowing how adventurous she could be with the slightest encouragement, and opened the glass shower door to join her.

She immediately went after him with the soap. “You smell like dog too,” she said and then nodded at one of the walls of showerheads. “What’s with all the plumbing? It’s like a carwash in here.”

“Would you like a demonstration?” he asked.

She eyed the brushed silver fixtures warily. “I’m not sure.”

He took her by the shoulders and judging the best location, shifted her back a few paces. “Stand right there,” he said, giving her a kiss of encouragement on one cheek. “Spread your feet apart.”

“For balance?”

He chuckled. “If that’s what you want to believe.”

She took a deep breath and spread her feet apart.

“A little more.”

She obeyed without question. He loved how she trusted him so thoroughly with her body. He began to turn the showerheads on and adjusted the heads to spray water over her erogenous zones from multiple directions. He focused on her br**sts first—directing a few showerheads so that each nipple was stimulated from the side, above, and below. She sighed in pleasure, shimmying slightly to move her stiff ni**les in and out of the warm spray. He set several showerheads to massage her shoulders and lower back with strong, pulsating bursts. He had additional jets tickling the backs of her knees and then finally turned one particularly vigorous spray to hit her in the ass. She gasped and bent forward, opening herself up to the pleasure. It also gave him a spectacular view of the slick, swollen pu**y between her thighs. One he very much wanted to investigate on a more personal level. But first…

He removed a handheld sprayer from the wall, turned it on, and handed it to her.

“What’s this for?” she asked.

He twisted the showerhead and it began to pulsate. “I think you’ll figure it out,” he said.

He stepped back to stand near the shower door—the only surface not covered with fixtures—and just looked at her. Her skin was slick with water and rosy from stimulation. Her long hair was almost black when wet and hung in limp waves, sticking to her shoulders, her back, and br**sts like the brush strokes of an admiring artist. When she directed the handheld’s spray between her thighs and began to moan in pleasure, he would have loved to simply continue watching, but he honestly didn’t have the willpower to keep his hands off her for another moment.

He stepped up behind her, the gush of water that had been spraying up her backside hitting him in the thigh. It was times like this that he wished he was several inches shorter. He cupped her br**sts in his hands and massaged them so that her ni**les entered and left the spray in cycles that made her groan in delight.

The spray she was directing between her legs hit the tip of his cock, and he shuddered. Fuck, he was hard. He couldn’t stop himself from rubbing his dick against the sweet, slick heat beckoning him inside.

She bent forward and gyrated her hips, rubbing against him, encouraging him to take her, claim her, make her his.

He bent his knees and slipped the head of his c**k inside her, surging forward, taking what he wanted.

“Yes, Gabe,” she said, using the handheld sprayer against her clit, where their bodies were joined, and against his heavy balls. He smiled to himself, glad she was sexually brilliant. His perfect match.

Unfortunately, the tiles of the shower floor were a bit too slippery to get the leverage he needed to thrust properly.

He turned her toward the wall, his well-placed water flow no longer hitting her in all the places he’d aimed them at. She still had the handheld massager, though, and used it to quickly bring herself to orgasm while Gabe filled her from behind and squeezed her ni**les between his fingers. Her cries of ecstasy echoed off the tiles as her pu**y convulsed around his driving cock. In her excitement, she dropped the sprayer that had been doing maddeningly delightful things to his balls.

Shuddering intermittently, Melanie went limp and almost sent Gabe slipping to his death on the hard tile floor as he tried to keep her on her feet. His c**k sprang free of her body, still hard as granite and far from finished.

“I think we should take this to the bedroom,” he said.

Leaning hard against the wall, Melanie nodded, her eyes closed, her body still shaking from her orgasm.

He shut off the water and stepped from the shower. She followed him on shaky legs and reached for a towel, but he caught her hand.

“No time for that,” he said, lifting her into his arms to carry her to his bed.

Chapter Seventeen

For a man so intent on getting her into his bed, Gabe was sure taking his sweet time in getting down to business.

Now that the sun had set, the bedroom was dark except for a single lamp glowing on a side table across the room, near to where Gabe stood with his back to her. He was sorting through gadgets inside his large armoire. Melanie watched, admiring the phoenix tattooed on his back. Admiring his firm ass. Admiring his long, well-muscled legs and his huge feet that correlated in size with what he had going on between his legs. But even gazing appreciatively at his backside lost its appeal after ten minutes of waiting.

“Gabe,” she said when she couldn’t bare another moment lying there without him. “It’s awfully lonely over here.”

From the armoire came a strange series of clicks and then what sounded like a jackhammer pounding against a tin can. A belt screeched, gears grinded, and Gabe pounded on something in the armoire out of her line of sight. The sounds died with a clunk.