Page 82 of The Dead Don’t Scream

I cup one breast. Her nipple tightens against my palm.

“Better?”

“Yes.”

Rhys tilts her head back beneath the water and rinses the shampoo from her hair. I circle her nipple with my thumb. Sloane’s breathing changes. Callum’s stare becomes unbearable. She sees it too.

“Hands on your knees,” she tells him.

His fingers flex.

“Now.”

Callum grips his knees. My cock becomes painfully hard. I massage Sloane’s breast while my other hand glides along her waist. She reaches behind herself. Rhys catches her wrist.

“Where?”

“Your cock.”

“Why?”

“I want to touch you.”

“You need to recover.”

“Everyone keeps telling me what I need.”

Rhys releases her.

“You are sore.”

“My mouth isn’t.”

I choke on a laugh. Callum curses. Rhys closes his eyes as Sloane turns and lowers herself onto her knees beneath the water.

“No,” he says.

She looks up at him.

“No?”

His body is rigid.

“I’ll lose control.”

“Then learn something from Callum.”

She glances toward the bench.

“Hands on your knees.”

Rhys looks at me. I shrug.

“The lady gave an order.”

He obeys. Sloane unfastens his pants and takes him into her hand. Rhys’s head falls back. She strokes him slowly, using the water and soap coating her fingers. I kneel beside her.

“Need help?”