The Only Way Out [Book 2]

Chapter 7 - It's Cold, It's Cold, It's Cold

A/N: Okay...that pic...*dies* 😍

Just imagine the shower is in their bathroom and not outside for story purposes.

Okay, I'm gonna look at the pic one more time then start writing.

I lied...it was a few times. 😂

***Harry's POV

"What are you doing, Bea?"

I watch in awe with my bottom lip between my teeth as my wife strips down to her black lacy bra and panties.

Or is it a thong?

I can't tell.

But I would like to find out.

"I'm just getting comfortable so I can make you comfortable, Harry," she says oh-so-innocently, although the look on her face is anything but innocent.

Naughty girl.

She's my naughty girl who needs a sp-

"Harry?"

"Hm?" I raise my eyebrows like a deer caught in the headlights, causing her to giggle.

"Would you like it if I made you more comfortable?" she asks, slowly turning to the side.

"Yeah," I immediately clear my throat to cover up my squeaky voice.

Why does it still do that? I'm twenty-sev-holy hell it's a thong.

She peers over her shoulder and if looks could fuck, we'd both be wearing only smiles right now.

Crossing her right foot in front of her left, she slowly walks over to me and my hands start fidgeting at my sides.

My eyes are drawn to her jet black thigh-highs that accentuate the sway of her curvy hips in a pulse-racing fashion.

The devilishly black lace on both her bra and thong don't leave much to the imagination. It's not really even a bra. Her breasts are literally spilling out.

I'm not complaining; my jeans are getting quite uncomfortable, but I'm not complaining.

My eyes shamelessly travel downwards and fuck, I can see her thin trail beneath her thong. She knows I prefer thongs and good God she's glistening down there.

She's so ready for me; so slippery to accommodate my morning-

"Would you like that, Harry?" she presses her hands to my naked chest and I breathe in her intoxicating perfume. "Hmm?"

"Yes," I breathe out, letting my hands find their way to her hips.

Wait.

What was the question?

Sorry, Love. I don't really care.

Her skin sizzles beneath my hands as they travel down her hips, gliding effortlessly over the silky stockings.

She knows I like those, too. They feel so soft when I'm between her le-

"I think," she pauses, taking her index finger between her red-painted lips while keeping her eyes on mine. She slides it out with a pop and draws a swirly line down my chest. "I can help you out with that."

"Fuck, Bea."

"We'll get to that," she nods as she slips her fingertips underneath the waistband of my jeans, "but you first."

Bea leans up and nips at my bottom lip, pulling away until it bounces back. A growl rumbles in the back of my throat and I dig my fingertips into the flesh of her curvy hips.