Lazy, she leaned against the shower wall and let him wash come and sweat off her body, watching him from beneath half-lidded eyes. He opened a tube he’d brought in with him and smeared cream on his fingers. She hissed and stood on her toes when he brought his hand to her pussy. “Poor baby,” he crooned. “Are you sore?” “Yes.” He nipped her pouting lip, his fingers going deeper, soothing her inflamed tissues with the salve. “This might help.” “Do you seriously stay prepared for the off chance that you would wreck my pussy?” “It’s hardly an ‘off chance’. More like a certainty.” She tipped her head back and moaned as Wyatt found and manipulated her G-spot, under the guise of treatment. His body kept the water from hitting her, but the steam kept her warm. “Wyatt, I can’t.” He brought his fingers out, smeared more ointment on them, and returned to her pussy, brushing his slick fingers over her abused clit. “I know. I’m just trying to take care of you.
