Instead I continued to explore her swollen folds, dipping into her molten core and enjoying the sounds she made and the wriggles that told me I was doing something right. Drawing more juices from her cunt, I spread them over her clit, which was distended, making its presence known. I began to play with it, paying attention to her reactions, figuring out what she liked, what she loved, what she was indifferent to. Learning her body, learning what would make her come apart.

Throughout, we continued kissing, her deft tongue caressing mine, exploring my mouth. Every now and again she would suck on my tongue, my bottom lip, even give the occasional nibble. I mirrored her movements, aware that they grew increasingly frantic—our mouths hungrily devouring, our fingers playing with needy pussies.

She was learning my body too. Her ministrations were sensual, erotic, yet precise. She’d quickly pinpointed the exact spot beside my clit that really got my motor revving. But instead of stimulating it relentlessly until I came, she teased me. Played me. Brought me close to orgasm, happy hormones rushing through my veins, then moved away, slipped her fingers inside me. Caressed my G-spot, coaxed more juices from me until I thought I had no more. Then started all over again. I grew lightheaded, desperate. Would she ever let me come?

Perhaps if I made her come first, once she’d ridden out her climax she’d concentrate on me and let me have my own. It was worth a try—and a damn good excuse to move things on. I could hardly wait to see her orgasm. She was beautiful already—extreme pleasure would only enhance that.

Pulling away from her lips, I leaned back a little until her face came into focus once more, and gave her a wicked grin. “Time for you to come, sweetheart.”

“And what about you?” she replied. I was gratified to hear that she sounded breathless, lust-drunk.

“After. You first.” With that, I gripped her upper arms, spun us both around and pushed her against the wall, careful to avoid the hook that held my wash bag. We’d moved mostly out of the spray now, though droplets still hit the edge of my buttocks, running into my crack, giving a little stimulation.

Spoiled for choice, I knew I had to make a decision fast, before I ruined this seriously sexy Sapphic moment. Finally, my brain kicked in and I remembered that, given I had two hands, I could do two of those things. Seriously, what was it about this woman that made me into a brainless idiot? Shifting one hand up her body, I slotted it beneath the thick mane of wet hair that hung down her back and grabbed her neck, pulling her mouth harder onto mine. We groaned together, the sound nearly lost in each other and the hot water that still poured onto us.

I sneaked my free hand eagerly downward, spreading my fingers wide, ready to grab that gorgeous flesh. When I finally did, I thought I might expire with pleasure. The bum I’d spent a great deal of time checking out was amazing. Firm and yet not too hard, still deliciously feminine and eminently squeezable. I wanted to bury my face between those cheeks and explore.

I told myself that there was no rush. She’d said this wasn’t just about sex, which implied this wouldn’t be a one-off, wouldn’t be a sole incident that I’d relive again and again while I laid in bed, my hand crammed between my thighs. I hoped more than anything that she meant it, meant that she didn’t just want me for sex. Though even if that weren’t the case, it was shaping up to be a spectacular first and last time.

Growing braver, I shifted the hand that was on Nadia’s buttock into her crack, delving between those perfect globes in search of the prize. The hot, slick, prize. And God, was it hot and slick. There was no denying her arousal—my fingertips were immediately coated in her juices and I wanted more than anything to put them in my mouth and taste her. But that would mean breaking the kiss. Later—I could taste her later.