"Mmm. I suppose I can wait. Not for long, though." He gently sets me back down and I realize dimly that I'm still wearing my sneakers from the bar. Jeans, too. They're both waterlogged and I couldn't give a shit. My shirt's clinging to my breasts, outlining my figure, and I notice Kassam's appreciative gaze goes there. I don't have the greatest face and I'm not all that talented at a lot of stuff, but I've got a great body.
So does Kassam. I run a hand down his wet chest, noticing for the first time that under all that grime and blood, he's got tattoos. There are strange, tribal-looking geometric markings across his pectorals. They sweep across his shoulders and down his arms, before fading into his skin. I find them fascinating, but then again, I find all of him fascinating. I let my fingers trail down his flat abdomen and dip into his navel. His pants are slung below it, waterlogged and barely held up by a bloated leather belt. "Can I…?"
"Do what you like," he murmurs. His hand runs through my hair, wetting it, and he looks as if he wants to kiss me again, his lips parted.
I know if he kisses me again, I'm never going to get these pants off of him, and he needs a full body scrubbing if we're going to do this. "How," I ask, ducking my head when he leans in. "How did you get covered in blood like this?"
His belt doesn't seem to have a buckle, but is knotted instead. I fumble with the knot as he brushes his hand over my breast, thumbing my nipple through the thin fabric of my wet shirt. God, this man does not play fair. "I was stabbed."
"S-stabbed?" I stumble over the word, looking up at him.
"It was a long time ago," he reassures me. "My wound is closed. Let us not talk about it. I would rather focus on more pleasant things…like these pretty breasts."
He gives my nipple the lightest pinch and I moan, because even the smallest touch is utterly unfair. I'm so aroused by him that my pulse feels as if it's set up shop between my thighs, and I know without touching myself that I'm aching and wet. I can feel the lips of my sex gliding against one another as I shift, I'm so very wet and turned on. "Can I just point out everything you say doesn't make sense?"
"It will make sense eventually, I promise you." His mouth curls into a hungry little smile, and his thumb moves over the tip of my nipple again. "Hurry and wash me if you must, because I need you."
Oh fuck. I bite back a whimper and jerk at his belt again. The swollen leather stretches and then breaks, and then his pants slip to the bottom of the tub.
And I'm left staring. And staring.
His cock is…well, it's magnificent. It's not a word I'd normally use to describe a man's penis, but I've seen several penises in my life and not a single one has looked as…perfect as this one. Kassam's dick is something out of a painting, it's so perfect. It's long and thick and smooth, not veiny or overly flushed. The base is framed by a dark swatch of hair that seems to enhance his masculinity, and he's not circumcised. It's my first time dealing with foreskin and I could absolutely not give a fuck. It's just interesting. "Oh…okay. Are you…European?" I curl a hand around the base of his cock, testing his foreskin, and find that it glides over his shaft if I tug on it, and Kassam makes a pleased sound in his throat when I do. "Sorry. I'm not an idiot, it's just my first uncircumcised penis. Tell me if I do something wrong."
"You are doing things very, very right, my little light."
I give another weird, awkward little laugh. "That's kind of an odd nickname, you know. You can just call me Carly."
"Call me whatever you like, as long as you keep touching me," Kassam murmurs, and teases my nipple again.
I whimper, resisting the urge to drop to my knees and just start tonguing his perfect, pretty cock. It curves up at the end, like it's asking to be petted, and I can't stand it. I touch a finger along the head, circling it, and fresh pre-cum beads there.
Kassam gives a ragged groan. "Wash me quick, little light. It has been a long time and my hunger is fierce."
Such a strange way of talking. A strange accent, too. If I was looking at things closely, I'd be full of questions, but right now, all I want to be full of is his dick. "Turn around," I tell him, breathless. I re-soap the pouf and in the next two minutes, I scrub his lower half as quickly as possible, because my hunger is fierce, too. I try not to spend an overly long amount of time on his rock-hard thighs or his massive shaft and balls, or his perfect bubble of a butt. Nope. There'll be time for that later, I tell myself. Right now, I'm all about cleaning this strange grime until his skin gleams with just how clean he is.
Then I shampoo his tangled hair and add some conditioner while he runs his hands all over my body.
"Almost done," I promise him as he tugs at the waist of my jeans. It's like he can't figure them out, but maybe it's the wet fabric that's making him unable to undo them. When he makes an impatient noise, liquid heat flares through me. "You know what? I think we're good. Get under the spray. Hurry."
In what might be the quickest rinse-off ever, Kassam does as I command, and then grabs me by the hips and hauls me out of the tub with him. A stream of water drips on my floors from our soaked bodies, but I find I don't care. I'm panting with need.
"Where?" he asks, burying his face against my wet breasts. "Tell me where or I will fuck you right here."
"Bed," I manage, though I do like the idea of dropping to the floor like animals and just going to town. I point down the hall, at the other door, and he immediately slams into it. I yelp as we crash into the wood, and then he steps back, hoists me over his shoulder higher, and lifts a leg. He kicks down my bedroom door, knocking it off the hinges, and making a godawful racket. I cringe, thinking of the neighbors downstairs. "Um, next time just use the doorknob—"
"Next time," he echoes, but I don't think he's listening. He heads to my bed and dumps me onto my back, his dripping, golden body looming over mine.
Just like that, my mouth goes dry and I forget all about doors. He yanks on my sodden sneakers, pulling them off my feet while I undo my jeans and shimmy the wet material down my legs.
He grabs my jeans and flings them down to the floor, then laughs at the sight of my pink bikini panties. "How many layers are you wearing, woman?"
"The normal amount?"
Kassam laughs as if I'm being funny, then peels my panties off. I sit up to take off my T-shirt and bra, but he pushes me back down on the bed with a gentle nudge, moving over me. His mouth claims mine again, even as he fits his hips between my spread thighs.
"Oh, are we not doing foreplay?" I whisper, frowning. "Because I need foreplay if I'm going to come—"
He bites down gently on my lip, tugging on it, even as he pushes into my body.
And…oh fuck. I whimper with sheer bliss as he fills me. Nothing has ever felt so damn good. His cock feels as if it's the perfect size, just big enough to stretch me in all the right places, but not so big that it's painful. I lift my legs, locking them around his hips as he thrusts into me, starting a fierce, frantic rhythm. Did I say I needed foreplay? Maybe I need it with other men, but with Kassam, I feel like I'm going to shatter into a million pieces just from this. I make a pathetic little whine when his next thrust rubs against my G-spot, my nails digging into his back.