“Roll the ‘r’ a little bit more,” he whispered, his lips brushing against the skin at the nape of my neck.

I shivered and stuttered the word out again, butchering it in a way I didn’t the first time, which made him laugh, a breathy sound that I felt in the same spot he’d left his kiss. He followed it with another, then pushed the dress over my shoulders. I curled them forward and straightened my arms, sending the beads and sequins held together by gossamer threads to the floor in a whispering heap.

And then I was naked in front of him. Again. But this time, we were naked together, and I could feel the heat of his bare skin against my back.

I turned to him, and the tip of his now completely hard length brushed along my hip, leaving a thin strip of moisture in its wake. The incidental contact made him gasp. I reached for him, and he caught both my hands at the wrists and pulled them down to my sides.

“Darcy, I’m dying to be inside of you. I think that’s pretty fucking obvious. But I feel like it’s important for this conversation to happen first.” He placed a soft kiss to my lips and then stepped into the tub and held out a hand, silently asking me to join. Anxious and a little frustrated, I took it and sank down into the water. It was just this side of hot, and we both grunted then sighed with contentment as we settled into the healing warmth — me at one end and him at the other. He parted his muscular thighs, gathered my feet into his lap, and began to massage my sore soles.

“This is nice,” he murmured, his eyes and attention focused on making concentric circles on the arches of both feet.

“It is. If I knew this came with a foot massage, I would have given in to your flirtatious behavior a lot sooner.”

“Hm,” he grunted, then lifted my foot out of the water and pressed his lips to that sensitive arch. “If you need or want a foot massage, you only need to ask.”

“Okay,” I murmured, sinking lower into the tub and parting my legs, slipping my hand between them because feeling his lips on a place so often ignored made me want to have them on my pussy again. “Is that your kink? Kissing and massaging my feet? If a foot fetish is the extent of your kinks, Tommy, I have to say that you’re making much too big of a deal of this.”

He looked up at me from under his thick, dark lashes. Had I ever noticed how dark and lovely his lashes were before tonight? Maybe I was just noticing how lovely Tommy was, period.