Ebony & Ivory [H.S]

Twenty-Three

"I belong with you, you belong with me, you're my sweetheart"

"You're going to have to let go of me at some point," I laugh, my captor holding me between his legs in the cosy porcelain bathtub.

"Never," he growls, kissing the crevice of my neck from behind me, arms held against my chest.

"And what happens when my fingers turn all pruney? Will you still want me then?" I challenge, squirming just a little. I could happily stay here forever.

"Even more so," he answers, nipping my shoulders affectionately with his teeth. "We can pretend to be old together."

Aw.

"Well maybe just a little while longer then..." I give in, leaning my head back so that it's resting on his chest.

"So what do you rate France so far?" he queries, wanting to know how I'm enjoying my first time here.

"Well despite the fact that we haven't left this lovely... château," I think, pausing to remember the word. "Incredible. I love it. Thank you Harry. I couldn't think of anyone else I'd rather be with right now."

"You old sap," he laughs, trickling more water carefully over my hair with a face washer.

"Almost," I muse, holding up my water soaked fingers.

"And the sëx?" he implores, voice low.

The séx. How do I even begin to describe the séx? Knee shaking, toe curling, paralysing pleasure, all at the skilful touches of Harry. I never thought one could have so many órgasms in one day - I am simply all sëxed out.

"It's okay," I reply, keeping a straight face.

"Just okay?" he repeats, moving his hands to my lower stomach.

"Mmmm... maybe," I answer, finding it incredibly hard to continue this façade.

"We'll have to change that, now won't we?" he declares, turning me around so that we're now facing each other; each of our back's now leaning against each end of the tub.