Capture by June Gray Read Free Book Online Page A

together to conserve water.”
    I had to laugh to hide the fact that my fingers were shaking. I set the towels on the counter and made a big production of putting the toiletries in the bathtub. Henry was beginning to unzip his jeans when I cried out, “Oh, we don’t have the shower curtain up!”
    He grinned, reached behind the door and produced a rod with the rings and curtains already in place. “Taken care of,” he said, stretching the tension rod to fit above the tub.
    I watched him twisting the rod, the muscles in his back jumping with each movement, until I could no longer help myself. I leaned forward and touched my lips to the center of his back.
    He froze. I felt a shiver travel across his skin. He went back to the task at hand, twisting the rod with more urgency. I ran my nails down his back to get another reaction. “Oh, you are asking for it,” he growled through his teeth.
    My anxiety melted into playfulness; I pulled down his jeans and pinched his ass through his boxer briefs.
    “Why is this rod so hard to put in place?” he muttered.
    I reached around and ran my hand along the hard length of him. “Yes, the rod certainly is hard; as for putting it in place...”
    He moved faster and faster then with a final cry of triumph, he twisted around to face me, catching me with his arms before I could escape. “Gotcha.”
    He bent his head and tickled my neck with his stubble, his fingers dancing along my sensitive sides. I laughed and tried to pull away. The laughter died in my throat when I felt the wet heat of his tongue on my neck, tracing a line up to my jaw, to my lips. Then he kissed me and all of the clowning around turned into serious business. I pulled away long enough to undress, his eyes following my every move with that familiar dark look on his face.
    When I stood before him completely naked, he ran a finger from my collarbone down to my chest and around one breast before pinching the nipple. He looked at me with a question on his face.
    I grasped his wrist and brought his finger up to my lips and sucked it deep into my mouth as I nodded.
    “You sure?” Even as he asked, he was slipping his boxer shorts down his thighs.
    I nodded again as my eyes followed the trail of hair on his stomach down to his crotch, where his cock was standing at attention. I bent down to take him in my mouth, but he stopped me. “No, I want you to have the first one,” he said and lifted me onto the laminate counter. He pulled my thighs apart and was dipping his head down when I grabbed his hair.
    “Stop,” I said. “I haven’t taken a shower since yesterday.”
    He actually laughed, the infuriating man. “Okay,” he said and reached behind me for the faucet. He came back with a handful of water and swiped it all over my mound and through my folds. He repeated the process, this time rubbing me a little slower, a little more deliberately. “Are you satisfied?” he asked, one finger playing with my clit.
    “Almost,” I said and leaned back on my hands, opening myself up for him.
    He gripped my thighs and, with our eyes locked, slowly made his way down. He touched the tip of his tongue to my clit a few times, and just when I was about to cry out in frustration, he dove in and worked me in earnest. His tongue was at once rough and gentle, thick and thin, swirling and lapping. There was no finesse or tact in his movements; he was like an eager contestant at a pie-eating contest.
    I watched him, finding the visual of his tongue dipping into me even more of a turn-on. Then his mouth covered my mound and he looked up at me with a raised eyebrow as he continued the assault.
    The pressure built and built until I threw my head back and came with force, my insides quaking around his tongue as he continued to devour me.
    A moment later his tongue was gone, replaced by the head of his cock. I reached around him and grabbed his butt, slowly pulling him towards me, filling me up again after all this time.
    I remembered his