Chapter 7: It won't bite

Oliver turned on the shower, and the water poured out. He reached for the bar soap handing on the wall, and he lathered it over my chest and shoulders, down to my hands. His hands ran over my breasts, and he gently caressed them, making me arch against him.

He took the cue and applied more pressure, massaging them and tugging at the nipple, which hardened into a tight bud once more. I moaned, but the sounds were ruffled out by the water rushing down from the shower. He carried on with his assignment, washing the rest of my body, between my legs, then moving on to my feet.

I took the soap from him to return the favour. I moved around him to first wash his back, and I ran my fingers over the lines of his shoulder. Down to his broad back, I moved, then lower to his firm ass. I didn't mean for my hands to linger there; they felt right to touch and grab. He was my husband, and grabbing his ass whenever I wanted was now my legal right.

"There is nothing special at the back, Ela," he groaned