Alana doesn’t protest. She just lets me lather her up. Her hair, her arms, her back, her ass. I LOVE her ass. She moans, and it stirs all my senses.
“I love touching you.” I kiss her neck once I’m done.
“I love touching you, too.” She grabs the bottle then does the same to me. Washing every part of me clean. Spending extra time on my hair. Does she think it’s that dirty?
Once our rubdowns are complete, and our fingers are pruney. We get out of the shower, wrap ourselves up in some fluffy towels, and lounge on the ultra-deluxe futon. I run my fingers through Alana’s damp hair, with her head resting on my lap. I don’t think I’ve ever been so content or relaxed.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask her for probably the twelfth time.
She looks up at me. “I’m fine. Look, see?” She shakes her arms and shimmies her ass. “Official’s review finds… you didn’t break me.”
I grin down at her. “You’re a wiseass, you know that? If I didn’t love your smart mouth so much, it’d be annoying.”
She giggles. “Love me how I am.”
“I do.” I lean down and kiss her.
She looks up at me like she wants to ask me something. “What?” I probe.
She sucks on her bottom lip. “Is a Dunkin’ Donuts bathroom really your favorite place to have sex?”
I pause. “How long have you been waiting to ask me that?”
“Since I overheard you and Mac talking.”
“That conversation was enlightening, was it?”
“In so many ways.”
“Tell me about it.” I tickle her.
“So?” She jumps, giggling. “Is it?”
I sigh. “No, my favorite place to have sex is in a small stall shower in a cozy little cabana.”
She glares up at me. “Be serious.”
“I am. We only had sex in the bathroom because the girl worked there. It was the only place we could be alone. And before you ask, no, I didn’t love her, and no, it wasn’t anywhere near as good as it is with you.”
“I wasn’t going to ask that. And we’ve only had sex once. How can you compare?”
“Once is enough to know.” I shrug.
She stares at me speculatively. A cute little smirk on her face. She thinks I’m full of shit.
“Don’t ask the question if you aren’t going to believe the answer,” I prod her.
Alana glares at me, but there’s still a little hint of amusement on her face. “Are you hungry?”
“Whatcha got?” I grin smugly, conceding to her not so subtle topic change.
Alana gets up and wanders over to the small fridge across the room and pulls out a tiny tray of fruit and cheese.
“Snacks.” She places the plate on the table next to us then flips on her iPod. A sultry voice commands the room. Lana Del Rey, one of our favorites.
“More mood?”
“Just a little.” She hops back on the futon then reaches over me for a strawberry. I watch her put the red piece of fruit in her mouth and bite. It turns me on. Hard core. Even when she eats, she’s perfect and proper. And sexy as sin.