Randy rests the sole of my foot against the center of his chest. I’m a little confused until he picks up the razor. I try to pull my leg away, but he grips my ankle tightly.

“You don’t trust me?”

“To weed-whack my forest?”

That grin of his makes my toes curl. God, he’s sexy. And I’m naked, totally on display for him. When did I become such a whoreburger?

“I’m good at shaving. I bet I’ll do less damage than you have.”

“You don’t even shave.” I point to his beard.

“I sure do shave, and trim, often.” He shows me the side of his neck and the perfect line where his beard ends and skin begins.

“Just be careful.”

He presses a kiss to my ankle, where there isn’t any shaving cream. Then he touches the blade to my leg and slowly skims away the lotion. With the arm with the sleeve. I won’t lie. It’s kind of hot to have this huge, badass-looking, tattooed hockey player shaving my leg for me.

He goes over my shin first, then lifts so he can get the back. “You’re flexible, huh?”

“It’s all the figure skating.”

“I love the figure skating.”

I laugh out of embarrassment.

“Seriously. It’s sexy. I would’ve liked to watch you. Maybe I can tomorrow before I leave.”

“If you want. I teach at nine.”

“That’s kinda early for a Sunday.”

“It’s better than the six-am ice time for hockey.”

Randy nods his agreement and makes another pass with the razor. Finishing up, he tosses it in the sink and holds a washcloth under the warm water. He then runs it over my skin, washing away anything left over.

“I think I did a nice job.” He presses another kiss to my ankle. “Don’t you?”

“I think you did great. Thanks for not cutting me.” It comes out all breathless.

He lowers my leg and fits himself between my thighs. Sadly, he’s still wearing pants, and a belt, so getting him to the same state of undress as me is going to take more than a quick tug.

He slides his fingers through my hair and tilts my head back. He doesn’t go right in for one of those all-out tongue-war kisses. Instead his lips touch the edge of my jaw, then my chin. It’s nice, sweet, unexpected.

I close my eyes and wait for his lips to reach mine. I can feel his breath wash over my face; it smells like cinnamon gum. I feel the faintest brush of lips and then… nothing. My eyes pop open. He’s not in my face anymore. Instead he’s on his knees.

He pulls me forward until I’m teetering on the edge of the vanity. It makes a faint creaking noise. I hope whoever installed it did a decent job of attaching it to the wall. I don’t have time to worry about it. Randy bites the inside of my leg and sucks hard. At my gasp, he releases. Then he nuzzles my thigh, his beard tickling the already sensitive skin.

He stays like that for a few long seconds, his back expanding and contracting with deep, heavy breaths like maybe he’s trying to stay composed. I have no idea. All I know is he’s sexy as hell on his knees in front of me.

I pull the tie, setting his hair free. Wet kisses bring him closer to where his mouth will provide the most pleasure. The first clit lick is soft, followed by a tentative circling of his tongue.

I moan. It’s loud, or maybe it sounds a lot louder than it actually is because we’re in a bathroom—again—and the acoustics are killer. His eyes lift to mine, and he does that sucking thing. Sweet lord. I can’t even imagine how much practice he’s had eating pussy.

He disengages long enough to say, “Not as much as you’d think.”

“I said that out loud?” I make a face that’s probably unattractive. I’m not sure if I should apologize for that comment or not.

“No, I can read minds.”

I squeeze my legs together, and he chuckles. “I’m surprised you haven’t come already.”

“If you stop talking smack and start licking, I’ll get there a lot faster.”

“Like this?” He flat-tongues me.

I almost fold forward, but I’m too close to the edge of the vanity, and I’ll topple over if I do. Instead I grip his hair with one hand and brace my free palm on the counter. I’d like to lie back, but the taps are behind me. He sucks my clit, following with a teeth-graze.

And the show’s over. I come so hard I’m sure brain cells start dying. I’m moaning his name and bucking against him. The vanity makes an accompanying sound. I’d like to get off of it, but I don’t have control of my motor function, so I’m relying on Randy to keep me from breaking it while I come all over his face.

He must realize we’re putting too much pressure on the counter. Suddenly I’m not sitting anymore. I’m standing—well, that’s untrue. Randy’s got one arm around my waist, keeping me from dropping to the floor. This time when he kisses me it’s the kind I’ve come to expect from him: demanding, hard, dominating.

I don’t even have the ability to fight back with my tongue. I’m still shaking. My muscles are still contracting, like they’re grabbing for the dick that isn’t there, yet. I fumble around, searching for his belt so I can either return the favor, or we can get down to it. It takes me a few tries to get the buckle undone, but I’m determined when necessary. I manage the button and the zipper as well.

Before I can get my hand down his pants, Randy spins me around. He presses his hips against me, the zipper digging into my ass cheek. He clamps his tattooed forearm across my chest and nibbles from my shoulder to my neck, meeting my spaced-out gaze in the mirror. “Wanna watch me fuck you?”