Chapter 106 rated R

Our clothes were still wet when we got back to Bill’s house.

We stood on the carpet in what I had come to call his plant room, a large room that used to be a bathroom plus most of the kitchen in the original house. Since Bill no longer ate—come to think of it, neither did I—and didn’t need a toilet, he had renovated the space to be full of plants, with a huge tub spa and a shower that was big enough for two people. Seemed he liked to soak in hot water, and I had learned this was true of a lot of vamps. Me, I’d always loved showers.

Now that our night’s activities were over, my clothes were clammy and I shivered in them. Bill started the shower full blast to get the water hot, and turned to me to help peel off my soggy dress (he had already removed, and destroyed, my panties during our evening adventures). I toed off my muddy shoes. Bill had somehow wrestled back into his waterlogged jeans to bring us home, and I knelt down to roll them off. I pressed my lips to his cool thigh, and my teeth chattered. I was a little surprised I could feel cold.

Bill stepped into the steamy water, drawing me in after, and pulled me to him under the pounding hot spray; it was pure heaven. I ducked my head under to re-soak my hair while Bill reached for the shampoo—it made me go all gooey to see he still had my favorite orange ginger shampoo, even though I had not been in this shower for a long time. He noticed my noticing and said, “Some days, I enjoyed smelling like you.” For a vamp, he sure was a big ol’ softie.

“Turn around. I’ll wash your hair,” Bill said. He massaged the citrusy lather through my hair, working it carefully down through the ends to prevent more tangles. (Since it was his job to comb out the tangles—even though he loved brushing my hair—he didn’t want to make any more.) As the shampoo foamed down my back, he rubbed around my shoulder blades and down around my waist. He pulled me to him, reached around and cupped my breasts with his still-slippery hands. I barely had time to start enjoying that before his hands moved down my stomach and back up my sides.

I was definitely warming up.

I ducked under the spray to rinse off my hair, loving the feel of hot water streaming down my back. Bill took up the soap and lathered his hands until he had a mound of foam, then squatted down on one knee; “Foot please, “ he beckoned.

I put my foot in his sudsy hands, and he worked his long fingers in between each toe, massaging the bottom of my foot, rubbing up and down my calf and paying extra attention to behind my knee. “Rinse,” he commanded. I complied.

“Other foot.” I promptly lifted my foot to the same ministrations, but this time he rinsed the suds off for me and bent down to lick very slowly and thoroughly between each of my toes, probing with a hard, pointed tongue. When he sucked on my baby toe, I made a tiny peep of a sound that made Bill look up at me.

“Oh dear,” Bill observed. “You seem to have some mud and grass on your thighs.” I didn’t see any, but I nodded anyway, and Bill took up the soap again. He watched me as he worked up a large lather.

Bill’s slippery hands grabbed my knees, rubbing upwards, kneading my thigh muscles. All those long nights at Merlotte’s spent walking, bending, and lifting had made my naturally shapely legs smoothly muscular. Bill made a rumble of appreciation low in his throat, slipped one hand all the way up my thigh to catch between my legs and tug my curly blond hair there.

I gasped out loud and Bill said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pinch you.” He was learning to tease me because he knew it made me crazy for him. He stood up. “You seem to be… dirty… there,” Bill said in his deepest, darkest voice, and he pushed lather between my legs, exploring with his long, agile fingers. I had to admit, this was my favorite way to get clean. Against my hip, I could feel part of Bill that was warming to the task as well.

As reluctant as I was to stop his motions, I pressed against him and grabbed the soap, making my own bubbly pile of lather. I started at the top of his broad shoulders, rubbed down his arms and back up, then across his darkly haired chest, pausing to gently pinch his nipples. Before Bill, I had not known that men enjoyed that sensation, but I had learned it was one of Bill’s favorites, and he always rewarded me with a moan.

I moved my soapy hands down his flat belly and out to his hip bones and down again to almost encircle him… then back up across his stomach again. He sighed his anticipation, and I made him wait while I soaped my hands again.

I returned to my task, rubbing the length of his expanding shaft, paying particular attention to the underside and the accompanying dangly bits. Bill parted his legs and rocked his hips forward so I could reach him better. What a helpful fellow he was!

Bill lowered his head and spoke against my hair, “Sookie, you are torturing me on purpose.”

“Why no, Bill, I just don’t want you to be… dirty, either,” I taunted him. I pulled him fully under the water and pressed my body tightly to his, standing up on my tiptoes then bending my knees to rub myself up and down his slippery pale skin. He made another low moan and his arms tightened around me. I lifted my face up just as he brought his mouth down hard on mine. For a second, I thought he was trying to eat my bottom lip, before he moved on to suck my tongue in his mouth. How was it that his mouth could feel so cool and so hot at the same time?

Still kissing me, Bill reached back to turn off the water. He barely moved his mouth from mine, and still holding me tight against him, he walked us both out of the shower. He grabbed a giant fluffy towel and folded us both up in it. His eyes asked, Bed? And mine responded, Floor? And he smiled a little so I could see his fangs run out for me.
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