I was in a fluffy towel as he carried me in bridal style out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom, placing me down to sit on the edge of the large bed. My hair was twisted into a damp bun at the top of my head, baby strands of hair plastered down my forehead and temples.
Ever since I had an orgasm while he was bathing me, he seemed even more closed off and silent now. And it was driving me crazy. I wanted him to talk to me.
"Do you feel better?" He asked, standing in front of me. I raised my face to meet his eyes, wondering if he’d just ignore me for the rest of the day if I said I felt better.
"I’m still kind of sore." My face heated as I said that.