The Lycans Voted Her Queen novel · Chapter 18 of 24

Chapter 18: Face to Face

The shower at the top of Kettle Hall was a stone room with no door.

It was the size of my whole kitchen.

A rain head hung from the ceiling, and a long stone bench ran along one wall under the spray.

Garrick set me on my feet on the warm tile and turned the water on with one hand.

It came down hot and hard.

Pink threads swirled over the drain.

"Arms up," he said.

I lifted them.

He peeled off my blood-stiff flannel and my undershirt and dropped them in a heap outside the stall.

He unbuttoned my jeans, knelt, and drew them off with my socks.

Then he stood and undressed himself fast, without grace, and stepped in beside me.

The spray hit his shoulders and ran off him in sheets.

He took a bar of soap from the ledge.

"Turn around."

I did, with my forehead against the stone.

He washed my back.

His big palms slid over my shoulder blades, down my spine and around my ribs, slow and thorough.

The foam ran down my legs in white ribbons.

He washed the bruise on my shoulder with his thumb, very lightly.

I shivered.

"Cold?" he said.

"No."

"You're shaking."

"It's not from cold."

His hands went still on my waist.

Then they slid forward, soapy, up over my belly and my breasts.

He cupped them, rolling my nipples, and I leaned back against his chest with a soft moan.

His cock pressed against my lower back, hard and hot and heavy.

"I want you," I said.

"I know."

"I want you so much I could cry."

"Cry, if you want."

"Garrick. I want to feel something good."

"Then let me give it to you."

One of his hands slid down my stomach and between my legs.

His fingers were slick with soap and water.

He parted me and stroked me from my entrance up to my clit, around and around, and my knees buckled.

"I've got you," he said.

He held me up with one arm.

With the other hand he worked me, slow, then steady, then in small hard circles that made me gasp and grind back against his cock.

"Please."

"Say what you want."

"Your fingers. Inside."

He pushed two in, and curled them, and I moaned.

My own hands slapped flat against the stone.

The water poured over both of us and filled the room with noise.

I came with his name in my mouth, clenching around his fingers.

He held me against his chest and kissed my wet hair.

"Again," he said.

"I can't."

"You can."

He did something with his thumb, and I did.

My legs gave out.

He caught me, turned me around, and sat down on the stone bench with me in his lap, my knees on either side of him.

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