“Ah, a man who likes to hunt.” She gave him a knowing look.
“Especially when the prey looks so delicious.” His eyes told her just how delicious he found her.
Delilah let her finger slide over his lips. “Go on; catch me if you can.”
Samson playfully closed his mouth, but she pulled her finger back.
“Not fast enough.”
She’d let him catch her, but not just yet. He’d have to work for it a little first.
“Give me another chance.”
Her finger went back to his lips, teasing him with her soft touch. She watched him intently trying to figure out when he would snap his mouth shut. His poker face gave no indication. His tongue reached for her finger, slowly and sensually licking it as if he had no intention of snatching it. Another flick with his tongue, and suddenly his mouth rocked forward, engulfing her finger and snapping shut.
Samson held her hostage and sucked at her gently before releasing her.
“You let yourself be distracted by my tongue—that was your downfall,” he warned her, his eyes flickering. “Never take your eyes off the hunter. You never know when he might strike.”
He pulled her down onto his chest. “How about a kiss for the victorious hunter?”
“Since when does the prey kiss the predator?”
“Never heard of Little Red Riding Hood?”
“She didn’t kiss the hunter.” But she would kiss Samson. He’d caught her. He deserved his prize.
“But she kissed the wolf. What if I was the wolf? Would you kiss me?”
“What version of Little Red Riding Hood were you reading as a kid?”
“The adult version, of course!” He flipped her onto her back so quickly she barely knew what was happening. A second later she was pinned underneath him. She didn’t complain: in her opinion, it was a good place to be.
“Since you’re not going to kiss me of your own free will, I have no choice but to torture you.”
He jumped off the bed and picked her up in his arms.
“Where are we going?” What kind of torture?
“Into the bathroom for some water torture.” He smiled, and his eyes twinkled like a rascal who was planning a prank. Torture suddenly sounded like something she had to try.
His bathroom was windowless and enormous. In addition to an oversized vanity with two sinks, there was a large Jacuzzi-type tub and a huge walk-in shower. The toilet was separate behind a wall.
“I’m kind of looking forward to this water torture you’re promising.”
“Are you telling me I can’t scare you with anything?”
“I guess not. But if you want me to pretend….” She could playact a little if it turned him on. Not that she thought she needed to. Just being herself with him seemed to turn him on.
Samson set her onto her feet and switched on the water in the shower. Once he’d tested the temperature, he gave her a little shove toward it. “After you, my lady.”
Delilah stepped into the shower and felt him right behind her. The water started raining down her torso, and she soaked up the warmth.
“Close your eyes,” he ordered. “I want you to only use your sense of touch—nothing else.”
“Hmm.” She closed her eyes, curious about what he had in mind.
His hands touched her shoulders and painstakingly slowly ran down her arms, pausing in the crook of her elbows before connecting with her wrists. Samson encircled them and pulled her arms up, then eased her toward the tile wall of the shower, pressing her against it. He placed her hands flat onto the wall before releasing her.
“Don’t move.” His order was spoken calmly and with the confidence of a man who was used to his orders being followed. She’d obey: as long as she enjoyed what he was doing. A couple of seconds later, she was certain she’d obey for however long he wanted her to.
His hands went back to her shoulders before descending over her shoulder blades, down her back and over her hips, stopping just short of her round cheeks. Instead, he ran them down the side of her thighs. Hot flames shot through her under his touch. The fact she couldn’t see what he was doing only intensified the sensation.
Delilah heard him shift behind her and suddenly felt both of his hands on her ass making circular motions before moving upwards again. She breathed heavily.
“Lower.” She yearned for his hands on her backside again.
“I’m afraid I make the rules here. Are you ready to give me a kiss yet, or do I need to torture you longer?”
“More torture.” The choice was easy. If this was torture, what would happen if he decided to shower her with pleasure instead?