6. You make noise

6

You make noise

Drake

I don’t dare to move or even blink. She’s gorgeous, and I don’t want to miss a second of her pleasure.

I had every intention of waiting for her to come before I did, but I’m glad I was too eager, because now I can focus all of my attention on her without my throbbing cock causing a distraction.

I watch her, watching me, and something shifts in the air as she relaxes with a happy grin. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, I’m not sure what to say to her. Should I apologize again? Did I take things too far? She asked me to, but still, that was… intense.

With her messy leg pulled up, what’s left of my cum oozes down her skin. Impulsively, I rub it around, smearing it over her like lotion.

She giggles. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, um, sorry. I guess you probably want to get cleaned up.”

Before she can say anything, I scoop her into my arms and carry her to the bathtub. Setting her on the edge, I turn on the faucet and check the temp until I get it just right.

Remembering where she keeps her bubble bath, I pull it out, putting in a generous amount, but not as much as before. I don’t want to obscure her beautiful body completely.

For a moment, I deliberate whether I should just help her into the tub and go, but I immediately decide against it. She hasn’t told me to get out, so I’m going to stay as long as she’ll let me. Now that I’m not worried about being found out, I don’t feel the same urgency to leave that I did before.

Without overthinking it, I get into the tub.

“I thought the bath was for me,” she says in a teasing tone.

“I like bathing with you, bubble.” I bop her nose with my finger, then wrap my arms around her waist and pull her onto my lap. She laughs as she tumbles into the half-full tub with her oversized shirt still on. The sound competing with the splash.

She scoops up some bubbles and blows them in my face. I tickle her and we laugh until we’re gasping for breath. When the tub is full, I turn off the tap, then rest my chin on her shoulder, playing with the hem of her soaked shirt.

"You can take it off," she whispers.

It hits the floor a second later with a slop. I pull her against me, relishing the feel of her skin against mine and slowly trailing my fingers across her belly, just below her breasts. My cock is already hard again, but I will it down, wanting to just be here in the tub with her, getting to know her.

She's silent.

The last time she was in the bath, she was so talkative, spitting out everything that popped into her head, but now she’s biting her lip.

“What are you thinking, bubble?”

“You’re really my Rubber Duckie?”

“Do you want me to show you again?”

“No. I just… so, you didn’t just watch me? You listened to all my rambling?”

“Every single word.”

“That must have been annoying.” Her laugh is self-deprecating. “I’m sorry.”

“Pretty sure I’m the only one who needs to apologize in this situation.”

“But you were forced to listen to me babble and complain and tell you every benign thought that popped into my head.”

“And?”

“Well, that had to be boring, right? I mean, you must have wanted to pull your hair out, listening to some stranger who wouldn’t shut up.”

“Hey.” Gripping her shoulders, I maneuver her around, forcing her to face me. “I loved getting to hear your thoughts. It was a privilege.”

She dips her head, avoiding my eye, but I pinch her chin and force her to look at me. She bites her lip, keeping her gaze down even though her face is tilted up. What happened to the open woman who poured out her heart and her hurts to me earlier?

“You don’t share your thoughts or open up like that very often, do you?”

Her lashes flutter closed, and I can’t tell if the dampness on her cheeks is from the bath or tears.

“Most people don’t want to hear what I have to say.” She shrugs one shoulder while slowly swirling her hand at the surface of the water, parting the bubbles. “As a kid, my dad told me I talked too much and my mom complained that she never had enough quiet. So… I started talking to my Duckie. Whenever I needed to get out all the thoughts and words I’d held in all day, I’d take a bath and spill them to my little yellow duck. It’s silly.”

“No. It’s sweet.” I kiss her temple. “But I wish you didn’t have to look to a kid’s toy for comfort instead of your family. They should have loved you enough to listen.”

“Oh, it’s not like that. They love me. They’re great parents. But we just… I don’t really need to share every thought that pops into my head. Everyone needs some quiet now and then.”

“Sure, but everyone also needs to feel heard.” I stroke her cheek and she leans into the touch.

“You really didn’t mind listening to me?”

“Not a bit.” Truthfully, every word captivated me and made me fall a little in love with her. Which is an absurd thought since I barely know her, so I keep that part to myself. “I only wish I could have responded to a few things.”

“Like what?”

“Well, for starters. Your former boss is an idiot. And if you want me to, I’d happily break into his house and smash his nose for you.”

Her laugh is beautiful. I want to bottle it up so I can shower myself in it everyday.

“And you’re wrong about The Beatles," I continue, "one hundred percent right about Star Wars, and I desperately wanted to tell you not to give up on your dream of becoming an architect.”

She turns to her side so she can snuggle against my chest. “Tell me about you.”

“Well, you already know the most important thing about me.”

“Are there other people who can change into rubber ducks?”

I shrug. “Not sure. I know about fifty object shifters, half of whom are family, but none of them shift into bath toys.”

“They shift into other things?”

“Yeah. All different things.”

“That’s cool.” She plays with the bubbles for a minute before asking, “And what do you do with that ability? I mean, it’s not like a traditional super power or anything, but do you… I don’t know use it for good somehow?”

Not sure I want to tell her this, but I need to be honest with her, because I have every intention of seeing this woman again. “Well, we break in places. Or at least my family does.”

“You’re criminals?” She pulls away and turns so she’s sitting with her back against the opposite side of the tub.

“Not exactly.” I hold up my palms. “We’re licensed contractors. Mostly for the government, doing jobs that other people can’t do. They don’t know we’re shifters, just that we have a skill for getting in and out of places. I don’t do a lot of the B&E jobs myself, since a rubber duck in an office would be suspicious, but my brother’s a pen and he gets lots of action. Mostly, I run the computers.”

“Hmm, and how did you end up at the toy store? Did you break in there?”

“I did, but it was on misinformation.” Feeling bad for thinking that the sweet old man was a criminal, I quickly explain how my cousin set me up. In response, she tells me how her cousin once trapped her in the school locker room by stealing her clothes—unoriginal, but still horrifying.

I see a glimpse again of the bright shining woman I came to adore earlier tonight as she slowly opens back up, talking more and more while the bath water grows cold. We swap stories until the bubbles are gone and our fingers are wrinkled, and then I lift her out of the tub and wrap her in a towel.

“Sorry, I only have the one.” She shifts uncomfortably on her feet.

“Not a problem, bubble.” I smile, relishing the thought of sharing. Why is that so appealing to me?

Slowly, I unwrap the towel I just put around her, and use the plush terrycloth to dry her neck, her back, rubbing it up and down her arms, her breasts, her belly. With a tap on the insides of her thighs, I get her to spread so I can run the towel up and down her legs. On my knees, I blow on her sex, watching the droplets fall from her curls. She leans back and grips the bathroom counter.

I rise back up, drying the spots where her wet hair has dripped, then wrapping the towel around her head and massaging the cloth along her scalp, eliciting a moan .

Once her hair is reasonably dry, I give myself a quick pat down, wrap the towel around my waist, take her hand, and lead her back to bed.

“I don’t think I got this pussy dry enough.” I guide her to lie back on the top of her comforter and spread her legs. Then I blow cool breaths up the inside of one leg and then the other. She squirms and writhes, but I grip her hips and hold her steady while I blow dry the apex of her thighs with my breath.

“That won’t get me dry,” she gasps, which just makes me smile.

“Maybe I should give up then,” I tease. “Maybe I should make you wetter instead?”

She nods, and I dive in, licking up her center.

“Fuck, you taste good.” Like that bubblegum bubble bath she uses mixed with something tart and all her. I lap her up, slow and steady. She bucks and tries to thrust, attempting to grind herself against my face, silently communicating exactly how much she’s liking this .

Some men would take that as a signal to speed up or increase the pressure, but I know better. If I fell into that trap, I’d stop giving her what’s feeling so good and ruin it all. So, I pin her down and keep up the even pace.

She stifles a moan with her arm.

I stop just long enough to say, “None of that. Let it out, bubble. Let it all out for your Duckie. I want to hear every gasp.”

When I go back to eating her out, she complies beautifully. A gasp. A moan. A grunt. A groan. Little noises that grow into big noises until she’s jabbering nonsense about how she never wants me to stop and how she’s never had it this good. She curses like a sailor. And I love every word that tumbles from her lips.

“That’s it. Tell me how good I make you feel. Gush all over your Duckie’s face.”

“Yes, Duckie, yes!” Her legs fling out. Her body shakes. “Y-y-y-yessss!”

She squirts! Fucking squirts like a squeezed rubber duck! A flood bursts all over my face faster than I can lick it up. Her pleasure splashes over me, the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced. Fuck, I'm a lucky duck.

I know it’s too soon, but I think I might be falling in love with my sweet little bursting bubble.