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“I do not smell,” she says, her tone outraged.
“You smell like me and sex. I like it.”
Her pout is adorable as I carry her into the bathroom and place her down in front of the toilet. “Pee,” I say as I reach into the shower, turning on the water and leaving it to warm.
“I’m not peeing in front of you,” she says, her arms crossed across her chest, pushing her tits up and leaving her nipples enticingly on display.
“Why? Do you want me to go first so it’s not weird?” I ask.
“Eww, no.” Her nose wrinkles up in disgust, but I find her fucking adorable.
Rolling my eyes, I open the shower door and step in. “Pee, I promise I won’t look.”
She glares at me until I eventually turn around. When I hear the toilet flush, I spin around to watch her, and while she washes her hands, I take the time to really look at the tattoo she has down her spine. Obviously, I’ve seen it before, but honestly, the moment she’s naked, I’m not looking at her art, I’m concentrating on licking, sucking, and fucking her. As much as I wish I could be inside her right now, I know she needs a break. So instead, I focus my attention on the mermaid that bends and weaves its way down her sexy back. It’s beautiful, a riot of color all weaving toward the tail that almost looks iridescent, a mix of greens and blues and teals, and the mermaid’s hair is a pale pink, identical to the color of Etta’s hair.
The tattoo is kind of perfect for her, and it makes her sexy, creamy skin even sexier with the explosion of color. Etta is oddly contradictory. She’s quiet and almost…meek, but the pink hair, nose ring, and tattoos force you to notice her when sometimes I think she’d prefer to hide.
She’s nervous—at least of me—but she still came to Rockhead Point even after she found out I lived here.
Turning, she finds me watching her through the glass, and her gaze immediately drops to her feet, like she’s embarrassed. She has no idea how utterly besotted I am with her.
Swinging the shower door open, I crook my finger and beckon her to me. “Come here, wife.”
Taking a deep shuddering breath, her tits vibrate with the movement of her chest, and I have to fight the urge to stalk across the bathroom to her and fill her with my dick.
For a moment, I wonder if she’d let me tattoo my name on her. If she’d let me brand her skin so everyone could see that she belongs to me. Then my gaze falls to her hand and the beautiful rings I slid onto her finger yesterday. Just the sight of them on her settles some of the rampant, psychotic need inside of me.
Anyone who looks at her will see those rings, they’ll smell me on her, and hopefully notice the baby, which I pray starts to swell her stomach soon. Everyone will know she’s mine, and I need that. I need a visible reminder that she belongs to me. I think I always will.
Tipping my head to the side, I arch my brow when she doesn’t immediately come to me. “Etta.” I lace her name with warning, and she reacts to it beautifully, striding gracefully into my arms.
“Good girl,” I praise, turning her until she’s under the spray, water darkening her pink hair.
“I’d never showered with another person until the first time we did it the other day,” she confesses absentmindedly.
“Good,” I growl angrily.
“Does that bother you?” she asks, her brows furrowed in confusion.
“Does the idea of you being naked with anyone else bother me?” I ask sarcastically. “Yes, it fucking bothers me,” I snap back, being completely irrational when she just admitted she’d never done this before.
“I bet you have, though, haven’t you?”
“Do you really want to know the answer to that?” I ask, hating that the truth is that I’ve showered with plenty of women in the past. I’ve just never cared about any of them, I’ve never loved any of them the way I do her.
Her eyes run from my face down to my feet, and then slowly back up again. “I bet you have a hit list a mile long, don’t you?” she asks, her voice more timid than normal.
“Etta,” I warn, not wanting her to ask me questions I won’t lie about.
“What? You get to act like an angry bear when I tell you I’ve never done this with anyone else, but I’m not allowed to point out that you obviously have?”
“Do you want me to tell you I was a virgin before the other day? That I was a monk until I saw you again? I’m not going to lie to you, Etta. I’m a thirty-one-year-old man. I’ve fucked my share of women. I’ve fucked them in beds, cars, and showers. I fucked them, and then I left. I don’t remember most of their names because I didn’t care about them, and they never cared about me. But nothing I felt for them in the time I spent in their beds compares to what I feel for you in a moment in your company.”
Closing her eyes, she turns away, giving me her back and hiding from me. “Don’t turn your back on me,” I snap, spinning her around and backing her into the shower wall, pressing into her until her spine is flat against the cold tile.
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore, I just want to get clean,” she says, her voice small.
“You don’t get to just turn away and dismiss me,” I say angrily.
