“Hair,” he mumbled, sitting up slowly and lowering his head. “Just use the soap. I do.”
She washed his hair carefully, then after laying a towel over the bandage, rinsed the short strands with a dripping cloth. Removing it, she began to wash him quickly, desperate to get it over with and get him into the bed and hopefully sleeping. There was temptation and then there was desperation. She was passing desperation fast.
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Her face flamed as he took the cloth from her and washed his hard, engorged c**k and the sac beneath. His face twisted into a grimace of pleasure, the hard flesh jerking rapturously beneath his strokes.
“Enough.” Her voice was strangled as she took the cloth from him and wrung the water out of it. She held out a towel. “You’re squeaky clean and I’m tired of playing nursemaid.”
A slumberous, sensual smile crossed his lips as he watched her through lowered lids.
“And you do it so well,” he whispered, but forced himself to stand up. Water sluiced over his tanned flesh as he rose before her, staring down at her, daring her as his engorged c**k filled her vision. It was wet, water running in streams along the mushroom-shaped head and heavily veined shaft.
Sherra licked her lips, remembering much too well how good he tasted, how his groans of pleasure stroked her senses as her mouth had enveloped him. She swallowed tightly and quickly pulled the plug on the drain before rising to help him from the tub and towel him dry.
She thought she was strong enough to do it. She thought she could control the hunger and the need long enough to get him dry and in bed. But when she was once again faced with the thick length of his erection, she could only whimper in defeat.
His hands tangled in her hair as she knelt before him. He held her still, though there was no reason to. Her lips parted as the velvety head of his c**k nudged against them, opened and allowed him to take her mouth with one smooth, shallow stroke.
“God. Sherra.” His voice sent shivers cascading over her flesh as the thick, throbbing flesh filled her, stroking her swollen tongue as he moved his hips, caressing it as he thrust in and out with a strangled groan.
She whimpered, closing her eyes as her hands gripped his thighs and she began to suck at the engorged shaft. Just as he taught her a lifetime ago, her mouth closed on him, tongue stroking him, milking the sensitive head slowly.
His hands tightened in her hair, his body tensing as a ragged groan filled her ears and she felt his warm pre-come dripping to her tongue. It was salty, rich, making her realize how desperate she had been for his taste. She wanted it all, wanted to feel the hard hot spurts of his se**n filling her mouth, coating her tormented tongue as he found his release in her.
“Sherra, baby.” His voice was hoarse as he f**ked her lips slow and easy. “Baby, this is so f**king good I could die, but I’m going to fall to the floor any minute.”
To prove his words he nearly stumbled, a rough, tortured chuckle filling the air as she slowly released him. Looking up at him slowly, her breath caught at the stark male hunger in his gaze.
“Son of a bitch, I finally get my c**k in that sweet mouth again and I can’t even stand up long enough to enjoy it.”
Sherra was shaking as she jerked back roughly, clamping her lips firmly shut as she stared at the moist length of male flesh. Dear God, what was she doing? She had lost her mind completely.
“Well, hell,” he said roughly as he braced himself against the wall to stand upright. “Guess I can forget the release, huh? Can I at least get some help into bed?”
She shook her head slowly. He was watching her with heated intensity and a sexual hunger that made her body flame in awareness. This was madness, she told herself fiercely. She knew better than to think that this could ease her hunger for him. It would do no more than make it worse.
“Damn.” She came to her feet, easing her arm around him and leading him from the bathroom to his bed.
“Yeah, curse for both of us,” he growled as she jerked the blankets back on the bed and he sat down slowly. “Son of a bitch, no way I’m sleeping on my stomach with this hard-on, Sherra.”
“You had it before I touched you.” She frowned as he watched her with mild accusation.
“For you,” he growled. “It’s been hard since the night you stepped out of the shadows in Sandy Hook. Dammit, I can’t even jack off enough.”
She almost lost her balance at the roughly voiced protest. Then she did lose it as he lay down before pulling her to the bed beside him. Leaning over him, she stared down at him, alarm streaking through her system. Too close. He was too close now for her to maintain any sense of control.
“You need to go to sleep.” Please go to sleep , she thought, oh God make him go to sleep . But she couldn’t resist touching the light stubble of beard along his cheek, her fingers glancing over it, the sensitive tips tingling in pleasure at the rough feel. He watched her, relaxed for a change. She had never seen him so laid-back, smiling at her easily, his eyes dark, filled with heat.
“You need to f**k me.” He grinned suggestively, his dilated eyes nearly black now as he watched her.
“Come on, just once. I promise I won’t fall asleep on you,” he wheedled in a dark velvet voice that sent electric flares of sensation tearing through her body.
How was she supposed to fight this new, suddenly gentle Kane?
Sherra stared down at him in shock. He was teasing her? He never teased her. He either snapped at her or had something impossibly arrogant to say that was sure to infuriate her. He snarled at her, mocked her, called her cute little pet names and generally did his best to make her life hell. But he had never teased her so gently. So sweetly.
The time they had been together at the labs hadn’t exactly given anyone an opportunity for laughter or for teasing. Life and death were a struggle, day by day. Each minute of their lives had been a lesson in death. How to accomplish it, either quick and silent, or with maximum pain. Sherra guessed she knew more ways to kill a man than most assassins walking around now. But she didn’t know how to tease.
“Sherra.” He reminded her of his request with a gentle, chiding voice. Gentleness. He could be so gentle, so tender, that the thought of the single night he had given her brought tears to her eyes. She didn’t want to remember, she needed desperately to forget. Remembering made her weak, made her ache for all the things she denied herself.
“You know I can’t,” she whispered, flinching as he caught her hand, watching her closely. His calloused fingers smoothed over the back of her softer ones, creating a warming friction that had her breath hitching softly. She loved his touch. The heat and strength of his flesh always amazed her, as did the licking flames of hunger that grew in her womb.