"Stay here," I commanded softly, but this time there was a new edge to my voice.
I walked into the opulent bathroom and started the water in the deep, freestanding tub, making sure it was warm, not hot. As it filled, I returned to the bedroom. She was watching me, her eyes tracking my every move, a new kind of hunger and confidence in her gaze. She wasn’t hiding anymore.
She was just... there.
Beautifully, unashamedly, and ready.
I knelt by the bed. "Come with me," I said, holding out a hand.
She took it without hesitation, her trust in me absolute. I led her to the bathroom, helping her into the steaming water. She sank into the tub with a deep, grateful sigh, the warm water closing over her.
But this time, it wasn’t about soothing. It was about preparation.
I knelt beside the tub, taking a soft washcloth and a bar of expensive, fragrant soap. I washed her slowly, tenderly. But my intent was no longer just comfort.
This was a ritual for her. To welcome my new woman. I bathed her shoulders, my thumbs tracing the elegant lines of her collarbones. I washed her arms, lifting each one to press a kiss to the sensitive skin of her inner wrist. When the cloth slid over her breasts, she let out a soft moan, her back arching, presenting them to me like offerings.
I obeyed, taking my time, circling her nipples with my soapy thumbs until they were hard, tight peaks.
"I am going make every part of you feel special tonight, Rebecca," I promised, my voice a low growl. "I am going to show you the power that lives in this body."
When I was done, I rinsed her, but the water didn’t run clean.
It ran over a body flushed with renewed arousal, her skin sensitive and buzzing with anticipation. I helped her out of the tub, but instead of a robe, I just lifted her into my arms and carried her back to the bed, laying her down on her stomach.
I started at her ankles, kissing my way up the back of her legs. I paid homage to the sensitive skin behind her knees, making her gasp and squirm. I licked a path up the backs of her powerful thighs, my hands gripping and squeezing the firm flesh, spreading her open. I saw her glistening pinkness, already wet and waiting again.
I lowered my head and devoured her from behind. My tongue flattened against her, licking her from her clit to her tight asshole in one long, possessive stroke.
She cried out, her hands fisting in the sheets, pushing her ass back against my face. I ate her like a man starved, my tongue spearing into her, my lips sucking her swollen folds, my teeth grazing her sensitive skin.
She was a writhing, moaning mess beneath me, and reality was gone, replaced by a universe of pure, unadulterated sensation.
When she was right on the brink, I stopped. She whimpered in protest, but I just chuckled, a dark, predatory sound. I flipped her over, her body limp and pliant. Her eyes were dazed, her lips swollen.
"Please," she begged, her voice a raw whisper. "Eros, please..."
I didn’t need to be told twice. I gripped my thick shaft, the head an angry, hooded purple, and dragged it through her soaked folds. Her slickness coated me, an obscene testament to her need. The sight of my huge, vein-mapped cock poised at the tiny, glistening entrance of her pussy was the most beautiful, vulgar vision I had ever seen today.
I notched the head at her opening and pushed.

SLAP!
"Ah!" she cried out. I did it again.
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