Chapter Eight

Jen rolled her eyes. “I’m not racing anywhere.” She groaned and stretched and slid from the bed, letting the covers unveil her an inch at a time.

Richie grinned. “Then I win by default,” he said leaning over to smack her ass soundly.

“Really? And just what is your prize?” she asked saucily, coming to stand in front of him, and resting her forearms on his shoulders.

Richie looked up at her and winked before sucking a nipple deep into his mouth. “I’ll collect on it later,” he said. “After I refuel.”

Jen took a step back. “Then no playing for you,” she admonished. “Can you behave yourself in the shower?” She turned her back to Richie and sashayed into the bathroom.

Richie laughed and followed. “Not if you’re gonna wag your ass at me like that,” he said, catching up to her. He turned on the water and turned to Jen. “You like it hot?”

She narrowed her gaze and looked him slowly up and down. “I’m here with you, what do you think?”

“I think you have impeccable taste,” Richie said, giving a mock half-bow. “I meant your water.”

“The hotter the better, baby,” she said. “You go in first, I have to pee.”

“I can give you a minute, if you need it,” Richie said.

“If it makes you more comfortable to leave, go ahead,” Jen said. “Frankly, after everything we’ve done today, listening to me pee is pretty much the least of it.”

Richie laughed and shrugged, and stepped into the shower, groaning when the hot water hit his aching muscles. “Damn, darlin’, I didn’t realize how much of a workout you gave me.” He groaned again. “This water feels heavenly.”

Jen finished her business and stepped into the shower behind Richie. Picking up the soap, she built up a good lather and rubbed it into his back, rubbing hard at his shoulders and the slight curve above his ass. Richie moaned appreciatively and braced himself against the shower wall hanging his head forward.

With long, slow strokes, Jen pressed the heels of her hands into Richie’s sore muscles. He rolled his shoulders and head, stretching his neck. “Goddamn, that feels good.”

“It does where I’m standing, too.” Jen grabbed the shampoo and squirted some into her hand. She put her hands to Richie’s head and massaged the lather through the dark, shoulder-length locks. She scratched her nails lightly into his scalp, and Richie sighed.

“That feels just heavenly,” he said. “Are you willing to do this for me every day?”

Jen laughed throatily. “That depends,” she said, “are you willing to play sexy games with me every day?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Richie said, as the water sluiced the foam from his body. “Your turn,” he said, reaching for the soap.

Richie and Jen switched places, and Richie used a light, teasing hand to wash her from stem to stern. He lingered over her breasts until Jen grabbed Richie’s shoulders, and her knees started to waiver. Then he turned his attention to the juncture of her legs. “I know this bit is dirty,” he said softly, and wrapped one arm around Jen’s waist while he washed her gently with the other hand. The pressure of his caresses was consistent, no matter how hard Jen pressed into his hand.

“Shhh,” he said when Jen whimpered against his neck. “I’m trying to wash you.”

“Well, you’re doing way more than that,” Jen answered, her nails digging into Richie’s muscles. “God, I’m so fucking close,” she said, leaning heavily against him.

Richie rinsed his hand and backed up so he was leaning against the wall of the shower. He raised one of Jen’s legs and rested it on the opposite wall, spreading her wide. Tenderly, he slid his first two fingers into her hot, wet center. Jen cried out softly as the room spun. Her hips were still undulating through the orgasm’s waves, so Richie continued to gently pump her, sliding in a third finger when he felt her juices flow down his hand. Jen screamed his name and went limp; the only thing keeping her from slumping to the shower floor was Richie’s arm around her waist.

“Jen, darlin’, you alright?” he asked softly, having to use some force to pull his fingers from her intimate grip.

“Gah,” was all she managed, making Richie chuckle. He grabbed the shampoo and gingerly sat on the floor of the shower, bringing Jen with him. He rubbed sweet-smelling lather into her hair and tipped her backwards to rinse it under the shower’s spray. When he was done, he cradled Jen against his chest. Several minutes later, the water started to lose some of its heat.

“Jen, darlin’,” Richie said, “the water’s getting cold.”

“OK,” she rasped. “Help me stand.” Richie disentangled himself from Jen and got to his feet. He pulled her to hers, and steadied her when she started to sway. “Damn, Sambora,” she said. “You are lethal.”

“I’ve been called worse,” Richie said, kissing her lightly.

The pair got dried off, then returned to the bedroom to dress. “Uh, I’m gonna have to stop at my place for a change of clothes,” Jen said. “My shirt is wrinkled all to hell, there’s no way I’m putting those panties back on, and I can’t find my bra.”

Richie laughed. “I’ll go commando if you will,” he said with a leer. “And you can take one of my shirts, bra totally optional.”

“We’re really that late, huh?” Jen asked, smiling, and accepting Richie’s compromises. She shrugged into a royal purple silk shirt, and she tied the blue scarf around her throat in a jaunty cravat. She left the first three buttons undone, and when she moved, a little flash of skin showed between the purple and the blue.

“Yep,” Richie said, his eyes darkening when he saw the faint press of her nipples against the silk. “Wanna be a whole lot later?”

“I thought you needed food? Besides,” Jen shivered. “If you touch me now, I’ll pass out, and that won’t be any fun for either of us.”

Richie laughed. “Alright then,” he said, sliding on his jacket, and slipping his sunglasses into place. “Let’s go.”