Her chest squeezed, and without thinking, she leaned in and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She buried her face in his neck and hugged him tightly.

“Thank you,” she said, clearing her throat to get rid of the catch.

His hand swept up her arm to rest on the band. “You’re welcome. I like seeing the evidence of my possession on your body. It pleases me and will please me every time I look at you and see my gift on your arm and your leg. I need no satisfaction beyond that.”

Slowly he pulled her away and then stood, taking her hand with him. He tugged until she rose to stand beside him.

“Come now so I can see to your shower.”

She looked at him in surprise, but he just smiled in return.

“In time you’ll learn that I’m very serious when I say that I plan to see to all aspects of your care and keeping.”

Serena stood in the shower under the spray of water as Damon undressed outside the glass door. Her gaze was drawn to his muscular body. Lean, hard, perfectly tanned with not a single flash of whiter skin.

His cock was impressive even in its semierect state, set amidst the dark hair at his groin. This was a man who clearly took care of himself, and it didn’t detract from his manliness whatsoever.

He was, in a word, beautiful. Rugged. All male. He wasn’t a knuckles-dragging-the-ground he-man Neanderthal type with more muscles than brains. He was several inches taller than her, but not so tall that she had to strain to look up at him.

He stepped inside the shower, and before he ever touched her, her body went on alert. Her nipples beaded and strained outward as though begging for his touch. Her pussy pulsed and tightened. She wanted him. Her need was powerful and overwhelming.

There was nothing sexual about his ministrations as he gently set about washing her. His long fingers glided over her skin, spreading soap bubbles in their wake. When he’d covered every inch of her body, including her most intimate areas, he turned his attention to her hair.

Methodically, he lathered her hair, massaging her scalp with firm fingers. After he’d rinsed, he worked in conditioner and gently pushed her back away from the spray.

Then he handed her soap. “Now you will wash me. Use only your hands. I would feel your touch on all parts of my body.”

Her pulse skittered and jumped like a drunk trying to play hopscotch. With trembling fingers she took the soap and worked it in her hands until she had a good lather. She set the soap aside and tentatively put her hands to Damon’s chest.

He closed his eyes the moment she touched him. Emboldened by his response, and her own pleasure at touching him, she began to stroke her hands over his shoulders. Then down to his taut abdomen.

She skipped his groin and his now turgid erection and soaped both his legs. When she knelt on the floor of the shower to soap his feet, his hand touched her head.

She glanced up, worried that she’d done something wrong, but she saw approval shining brightly in his eyes.

“You kneeling at my feet, so sweetly, as you wash them . . . it’s quite beautiful, Serena. You are beautiful.”

She ducked her head, suddenly shy and self-conscious. She finished his feet and then worked her way back up to his groin. His cock bobbed in front of her, and when she would have stood, she remembered how pleased he’d looked when she went to her knees. And so she merely hoisted herself higher on her knees so that his cock was eye-level and she closed her hands around it.

It was hot against her skin, hotter than the water cascading over them both. It pulsed slightly against her palm as she rubbed back and forth. When she reached the base, she slid her fingers beyond to his sac. His balls rolled against her palm, and she marveled at the softness of the skin, the pliability, and how swollen they were as his cock jutted outward above them.

She wanted to take him in her mouth again and pleasure him. A light tap to her cheek made her blink and look upward. Was she so transparent?

“Use only your hands this time,” he said in a raspy voice.

He reached up to direct the nozzle away from them and then guided her hand back to his straining erection.

She worked back and forth, moving the foreskin as far up the bulbous head as she could before pulling it away, revealing the smooth top again.

“Harder,” he urged.

She readily complied, tightening her grip and moving more rapidly.

Then suddenly, he yanked himself from her grasp. With one hand, he shoved her arms down while he jerked at his cock with the other. She gasped when the first hot jet exploded onto her chest.

He continued to pull as he leaned closer to direct his cum onto her breasts. Some landed at the hollow of her throat and slid downward, slithering between her breasts and down to her navel.

One thick rope traveled to the tip of her breast, coated the rigid nipple and dangled precariously before dripping to the shower floor.

Damon pulled upward on his cock and leaned farther in, pushing at her mouth. “Open,” he said hoarsely.

She complied, and he slid in with ease. His cum coated the head of his penis, and as he pumped deep into her mouth, she swallowed away the last of it.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Clean me, Serena mine.”

For several long seconds he rocked up on his toes, rhythmically fucking her mouth as his cock continued to soften. Finally, he pulled away and reached for her hand to help her up.

With an arrogant look of satisfaction he gazed at the trail of cum covering her chest.

“Bathe yourself with it,” he murmured. “Rub me all over your body and know that you are mine.”

Hesitantly, she raised her hands and then looked down at the sticky cream on her breasts and down her belly. She put one hand to her skin first and cautiously rubbed in a tight circle.

Damon’s breath hitched and his cock bobbed upward, already recovering from his orgasm.

With growing confidence, she placed her other hand to her wet breast and began massaging the fluid over her skin. She swayed sensuously as she rubbed and caressed.

Her body was hypersensitive to her every touch. He’d driven her so close to her release just by attaining his own. He hadn’t touched her to bring her to orgasm in any way, but yet she verged on the brink. Hovering. Aching. So close. So very close. If she could just get her hands lower . . .

Strong hands gripped her wrists, and he pulled her hands away from her skin. Without a word, he directed the water so that it poured over her body, and he began to rinse the conditioner from her hair.

Again, with no attempt to arouse, he washed her until her hair was clean and the remnants of his orgasm were gone from her skin.

“Stay here,” he said as he turned the water off and stepped from the shower.

She watched as he quickly dried his naked body. He wiped the last of the moisture from his skin and then gave his hair a quick tussle before tossing the towel aside and picking up another.

He reached in to take her hand and drew her out of the shower. He started with her hair, squeezing the excess water from the strands. Then he worked down, patting her skin with the soft towel.

When he was finished, he dropped the towel and pulled her against the warmth of his body. He cradled her perfectly. They meshed so well, her softness conforming to his harder planes.

He just stood there, his heart beating softly against her throat. His hands smoothed deliciously over her back and down to her buttocks before traveling up her arms. His right hand came to rest at the cuff she wore on her left arm, and he stroked it for a moment, as if pleased by the ornament she wore. For him.

“Come, it’s time to feed you and put you to bed.”

She bristled the slightest bit because he made her sound like a pet or even a child. But as his hands moved sensuously over her shoulders as he turned her in the direction of the bedroom, those thoughts, and her irritation, fled.