Nic leans over the bathroom sink to bring herself closer to the reflection of her face. The brush on her hand glides smoothly over one eyelid, then the other, and in the end she pauses to survey the handiwork. She is far from a vain creature and is well aware of her natural beauty, yet she takes a certain amount of pride in the result, the way her eyes become larger, the full shape of lips painted red.
Water stops running in her shower but Conrad’s off-key song continues, much to her amusement. A cloud fills the small bathroom when the glass door opens and he emerges from within, the steam clings to her skin and fogs the mirror briefly. As the reflection starts regaining its clarity, Nic is gradually rewarded with his naked body, a lovely sight to see in any circumstance in spite of the few faded scars of a painful past scattered across his skin.
“You don't need makeup, Nic.” Conrad states while pulling a towel around the waist.
She chuckles softly as only a man could have such a naïve perception of beauty standards. “Give it ten more years and you’ll change your mind.”
“Never! Even when we’re both grey, wrinkled and surrounded by our grandchildren, you'll still be the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.”
Heat flashes on her cheeks which has little to do with the temperature of the bathroom and so much more with the implication that his words carry. There is a veiled promise for their future in his unwavering stare that keeps her rooted in place.
They have only recently got back together, whatever they currently are is still vulnerable, undefined beyond the inevitability of their love. Somehow, while Nic was too distracted by sorrow, Conrad had burned through her defenses and reached her heart again. A very dangerous achievement on his part. This time she threads carefully around him to avoid being hurt again, even though every day he proves how much he is willing to change. All for her.
Nic feels her blood rushing and pulsing, quick breaths leave her parted lips and a tingling sensation settles on the fingertips. His eyes then travel down the length of her back, her own towel barely covers her tights and he finds a place for his eyes to linger just below the hem. Whatever was on his mind until that moment vanishes entirely, replaced by a flicker of lust.
She flashes a provocative grin with lips of the red shade she only uses for his attention and it is all the invitation Conrad needs. In one stride he is directly behind her, his warmth engulfs her whole body at once.
Slim lips close on the spot below her ear in a tender kiss while his hand tugs at the knot between her breasts to remove the towel. A breath catches somewhere in her throat when his fingers brush the curve of her ass and disappear inside her, the eyeliner falls from her hand into the sink with a splash of black droplets.
"Open up, baby.” he breathes hotly in her ear. “Let me taste you."
Nic complies without resistance and moves her legs apart. His reflection grins at her through the mirror and she watches him disappear behind her. Conrad crawls underneath, kneels on the floor with his back against the vanity and replaces his fingers with his tongue. He takes a long lick of her and she gasps in mingled shock and delight.
For a while she thinks of nothing, is unable to formulate the simplest thought while he goes on in a languid motion around her clit, but gradually her mind recovers to process only the sensations he evokes on her body.
When Nic looks down all she sees is the top of his head between her legs, his mouth is firmly attached to her core with only glimpses of his tongue, rough and marvelous, disappearing inside her. With one hand Nic grips the edge of the marble surface, the other disappears in his short strands of hair and anchors herself to his scalp.
Conrad murmurs something unintelligible, in appreciation perhaps, though its meaning is lost to her fogged mind. His fingers brush her tights before taking hold of both cheeks, digging into the flesh to bring her closer to him. Never before has a man demanded so much nor had she given herself so freely to anyone else, the desire she feels for him is unlike anything else ever experienced and by his own groans of pleasure she knows he feels the same.
During a brief moment of vertigo, Nic wills her legs to stand straight while losing all remaining control over her vocal cords, which are now freely producing a variety of whimpers that she does not care to stop.
The pressure is released without much warning, it is all-consuming in its power, the heat wave travels from where his tongue touches and towards her brain. A shuddering moan that echoes off the tiles is all she can manage while her heartbeat pulses around his mouth and her eyes roll uncontrollably behind closed lids.
In the aftermath she is faintly aware of his short hair between her fingers, his soothing kisses on her inner thigh. Nic catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror and recognizes the well-loved woman that stares back. This is the version of her that only Conrad got to see until now, with deeply flushed cheeks, heaving chest and a blissful smile in the end. Just as he said, Nic feels eternally beautiful in that moment.
Her gaze shifts downwards where he is staring intently back at her, not with the smug smile that any other man would wear, but with a look of open adoration in his lust clouded eyes.
Without much grace Nic slides down when her legs are no longer able to sustain her weight, she collapses on his lap straddling him and rests her forehead against his. Her fingers make quick work of the towel around his waist and push each half aside to expose him. Without surprise Conrad is more than ready, eager for attention.
Her hand closes around his hard length, but before she is able to slide all the way down on him, the doorbell rings effectively halting any further movement.
“Don't you dare getting up, I'm not done with you yet.” His voice is rough, somewhat desperate with yearning, his hands hold her in place.
“It seems like you have to be since you were the one that planned this game night.”
“So, this is my own fault?” Conrad asks as she starts rising from his lap with great effort.
Nic dresses with an automatic precision even though every brain cell is screaming against the motions, all she wants is to ignore the incessant doorbell and lock herself with him in the bathroom for at least another fifteen minutes. By the knocks that join the ringing bell their friends seem to have grown impatient while she ponders the pros and cons of a last-minute cancelation.
“Get dressed, Conrad. We can’t keep them waiting.” Nic shouts from the bedroom.
Conrad only grumbles a rude remark about giving them a show that makes her blush profusely. Then his arms fall to the sides in defeat and she has the distinct belief he is internally cursing his own plans.
Nic kneels down and kisses him soundly on the lips, this time her tone is sweet despite the hint of guilt. “I promise to make it up to you later.”
“I’m definitely counting on that!” His smile is bittersweet.
Nic does not linger, turning on her heel she walks out of the bathroom with light steps and leaves him desolated on the floor with unfulfilled lust running hot in his veins. Conrad will take his revenge during the games, unbeknownst to everyone else, and she will pay again later in the most pleasurable way. Nic shivers in anticipation before opening the front door. Game night cannot be over soon enough.