Free Web NovelChapter 141: Chapter 141 - Bathroom (R)
Malcolm’s arms came around her without warning, strong and steady, lifting her from the slick tile floor as though she weighed nothing.
Steam did not rise to greet them.
The water lay still and clear, untouched, cold.
He lowered himself first against the curved porcelain back, settling in with quiet control, then drew her down with him.
The moment her skin met the surface, Iyisha gasped.
The cold struck her thighs first, sharp and biting, climbing up her hips and across her stomach like a shock that stole the air from her lungs. Her fingers tightened instinctively against his shoulders, nails pressing into his skin as her body jerked against the sudden temperature.
"Malcolm—" she breathed, half protest, half shock.
The water swallowed them inch by inch as he pulled her fully into his lap, the chill wrapping around her overheated skin, turning the lingering warmth between her legs into something painfully sensitive. Her nipples tightened at once, her breath shuddering as goosebumps rose across her arms and chest.
"It’s cold," she whispered, teeth barely grazing her lower lip as she tried to steady herself.
He did not move to warm the water.
He only held her there.
Her body trembled again, not from weakness this time but from contrast, heat still coiled inside her while the cold pressed against every inch of exposed skin, making her acutely aware of where she ended and where he began. Slowly, her breathing adjusted, shallow at first, then deeper, her heartbeat settling against the solid steadiness of his chest behind her.
The shock faded into a sharp awareness.
He eased down into the heat, long legs stretching out, then guided her between them. She settled onto his lap facing him, knees bracketing his hips, water lapping at her waist.
His cock was still thick, still hard despite having just come inside her, rigid between them, brushing the soft skin of her inner thighs with every slight shift.
Their eyes met.
No words. Only that dark, unblinking stare that always made her feel exposed even when she was already naked.
He reached for the bar of soap on the ledge and worked it between his palms until foam gathered thick and white. Then his hands returned to her shoulders. Slow circles. Down her arms. Across her collarbones.
His gaze never left hers as his soapy palms cupped her breasts, thumbs dragging over her nipples until they tightened again beneath the slick glide. She shivered, breath catching, but he continued, patient and methodical, washing every inch within reach.
Iyisha took the soap from him.
Her hands were steadier now, though her thighs still quivered faintly. She spread lather over his chest first, over the broad, hard planes that shifted beneath her touch, then down the ridges of his abdomen, following the trail of hair that disappeared beneath the waterline.
When her fingers drifted lower and brushed the base of his cock, he jerked against her belly.
She smiled, small and wicked, eyes lifting to his.
"If mutation is real," she murmured, voice husky, "you’re proof. Look at how you’re made."
He did not smile back, but his eyes darkened, pupils swallowing the iris.
She continued, soaping his hips and then lower, cupping the heavy weight of his balls in her palm. Gentle at first. Rolling them slowly, feeling them tighten beneath her touch. Malcolm groaned, low and rough, his head tipping back against the rim of the tub for a heartbeat before his gaze locked onto hers again.
"Stop," he muttered.
"Why?" She tilted her head, feigning innocence. "I’m just cleaning you."
His jaw ticked, but he did not pull away.
Instead he reached for more soap. His hands slid to her waist, then lower, between her still-sensitive thighs. His fingers parted her folds with careful precision, the slick glide moving over her swollen clit before dipping just inside her entrance, where she was still wet with his release and her own. She moaned sharply, hips rocking forward into his touch.
He did not rush. He moved his fingers in low circles that made her thighs tremble harder.
Iyisha wrapped her fingers around his cock, firm and slick with soap and water, and began to stroke. Long, steady pulls from root to tip.
His hand shot to the back of her neck, fingers threading into her damp hair, tilting her face up so he could kiss her. Deep. Claiming. Their tongues moved together while her hand worked him and his fingers continued between her legs.
He broke the kiss first, breathing harsher now.
Then, without warning, he gripped her hips and lifted her.
She shivered as he aligned her over him, the head of his cock nudging at her entrance before he lowered her down in one slow and controlled motion.
Iyisha moaned loudly, head falling back as gravity carried her the rest of the way. The first push felt different in the water, deeper and heavier, the stretch more pronounced. She felt every thick inch filling her, walls fluttering around him as she settled fully in his lap with her hips flush and clit pressed tight against his pelvis.
For a moment they remained like that, locked together, breathing each other in while the water moved gently around them.
Then she began to move.
Slow rolls of her hips at first, reclaiming him inch by inch. She kissed him again, open-mouthed, hands roaming his shoulders and neck. The angle drove him deeper; every lift and drop dragged him along her most sensitive places. Her thighs burned with the effort, but she refused to stop until her rhythm faltered.
Malcolm felt it immediately.
His hands spread over her ass and took control.
He moved her.
Up and down. Slow at first, deep rocking thrusts that sent water sloshing over the edge of the tub. Then stronger. Faster. His hips snapping upward to meet her on every descent. Water splashed against porcelain, echoing with their moans, hers high and desperate, his low and guttural.
He ground against her clit on each upward drive, then buried himself deep again. The wet slap of skin against skin filled the room. Her nails dug into his shoulders; his fingers tightened at her hips, leaving marks she would feel later.
"Harder," she breathed against his mouth.
He answered.
One deep thrust that held her impaled before he lifted her completely off him.
Water cascaded down their bodies as he stood, cock glistening, veins pronounced and thick. He turned her carefully and bent her forward over the edge of the tub.
"Hold on," he rasped.
She braced her palms against the porcelain, presenting herself without hesitation, thighs still trembling.
He entered her from behind in one long, forceful slide, deeper than before, the new angle making her cry out sharply. His hands gripped the rim of the tub on either side of hers, caging her in as he began to drive into her.
Hard. Relentless. Each thrust pushing the breath from her lungs. Water dripped from their bodies onto the tile. The slap of his hips against her ass echoed off the walls.
Iyisha pushed back against him, greedy and desperate, moaning his name again and again. The fullness bordered on overwhelming, every inch of him felt, every pulse undeniable.
He leaned over her, chest against her back, mouth at her ear.
"Come again," he growled. "Now."
One hand slid between her thighs, rubbing firm circles over her clit, while the other banded across her chest, pinching a nipple hard.
She shattered.
Screaming his name, her walls clamped down around him in violent pulses, milking him as fresh wetness spilled around his cock. Her knees buckled; he held her upright, thrusting through her climax until his own control broke.
He buried himself deep with a guttural groan, hips jerking as he came, hot pulses flooding her again, so much it spilled out around him and down her thighs to mix with the water on the floor.
They remained like that, panting and trembling, his arms locked around her, his cock still twitching inside her.
Finally he eased out slowly, both of them hissing at the loss.
He turned her gently and guided her back into the tub, settling her against his chest, her back to his front. Water sloshed higher around them, warm and soothing over their spent bodies.
Only feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back and the quiet drip of water somewhere in the tiled room.
He then stood without warning, one arm sliding beneath her knees, the other firm at her back, lifting her as though her trembling meant nothing at all. She curled into him instinctively, arms around his neck, cheek brushing his shoulder as he stepped beneath the shower.
The water struck them.
Cold.
Iyisha gasped sharply, her body jolting against his as the spray hit her shoulders and ran down her spine like shards of ice. Her fingers dug into him, nails pressing into his skin.
"It’s cold," she whispered, breath catching, half complaint and half shock. "Malcolm, it’s cold."
The water continued to fall, relentless, beading over overheated skin, stealing the last remnants of warmth from her limbs. Goosebumps rose instantly along her arms and thighs. She shivered, pressing closer to his chest as though he could shield her from it.
He did not step away.
He adjusted their position instead, turning so most of the spray struck his back first before sliding over her, muting the impact. One hand remained secure at her waist while the other reached for the soap.
His touch shifted.
He washed her shoulders first, smoothing lather over her skin, then down her arms, his movements unhurried, precise, almost ceremonial. The cold water ran between them, over his hands as they moved lower, lifting her slightly to clean beneath her thighs with quiet focus, as though she were something rare entrusted to him alone.
She trembled again, though this time it was less from shock and more from the way he handled her, steady and unwavering despite the chill.
"Still cold," she murmured weakly, teeth grazing her lip as another shiver passed through her.
"I’ll be fast." He murmured.
The water dripped from his hair down onto her shoulder in warmer rivulets.
When he finished, he stepped out first, then carried her with him, water trailing across the floor. He wrapped her immediately in a thick towel, enclosing her fully before drying her arms and legs with firm strokes meant to bring warmth back into her skin.
A soft giggle escaped her when he lifted her again.
"What?" he asked quietly.
"Nothing," she breathed, her voice already blurred with drowsiness.
He carried her to the room and laid her gently on the bed. Sitting beside her, he worked another towel through her damp hair, patient and methodical, careful not to pull.
She blinked up at him, eyes heavy.
"Malcolm... you treat me sooo good," she mumbled, the words slurring slightly. "You’re gonna make any girl fall for you."
The second it left her mouth, she stiffened faintly, regret flickering across her face.
He chuckled.
Low.
Unthreatened.
He set the towel aside and tucked the blanket around her, smoothing it beneath her chin.
Relief softened her expression when he showed no sign of offense.
He moved around the bed and slid beneath the covers beside her.
Iyisha shifted immediately toward him, and he pulled her close without hesitation, one arm firm around her waist, drawing her back against his chest. She moaned softly in contentment as warmth replaced the memory of cold water.
Safe.
Wrapped in him.
His steady breathing against her neck was the last thing she felt before sleep pulled her under.
