Getting Heated in the Bathroom

Oathbreaker Bonus Scene

Shortly before Hunter and Winter head to Misha’s home for dinner, Hunter and Winter have some fun as they prepare to attend. This is the scene where Hunter presents Winter with her present for the evening—a wearable buttplug that he holds the keys to. Literally.

© 2024 Angel M. Shaw

Winter

“Girl, hold still, or I’m gonna burn you,” Veronica says with an edge of irritation as I sit on a stool in front of my bathroom mirror.

Even though we’re all keeping a low profile, Hunter did say that I could go to a hair salon or get a glam team in here to doll me up before we head to Misha Hroshko’s house.

I declined the offer for a few reasons.

Reason number one: I don’t want to go anywhere, much less deep into the city where I can find a stylist familiar with Black hair.

Reason number two: A corner of my panic-soaked brain rejects the idea of strangers coming into Amelia Manor. There’s no real reason why, but that’s anxiety for you.

Reason number three: I want to talk with Veronica.

Veronica has gotten a routine down with Summer, so my friend has just started sleeping well.

Well, as well as she can with an infant.

But she’s been so busy with her baby that she and I haven’t had much time together. I understand and also, I miss my bestie.

I hold my breath, not daring to move a muscle as she flatirons around my hairline.

“Only you would want to straighten all this damn hair,” Veronica mutters, putting the rattail comb she uses to part my hair in the bunched-up section of my locks that’s yet to be straightened.

“And you have my undying gratitude, sis. I know you can get it really straight, which is why I need your help.” I give her a smile in the mirror, and she rolls her eyes, sticking her tongue out before giving me an affectionate peck on the temple.

“Where are you going anyway?” Veronica asks. I feel like I’ve swallowed a fly, so I cough, bending out of the way of her hot tools.

“Girl!” Veronica yells, laughing a little.

I use the moment to think of an excuse. I can’t exactly tell Veronica that I’m going to the home of a mob boss. That would be…a recipe for disaster.

Disaster, meaning Veronica goes to find Hunter and kicks his ass.

“A business friend of Hunter’s,” I say, uncapping the bottle of water I grabbed on the way into the bathroom.

It tastes funny when I drink it, so I look into it to examine the contents.

“Okay,” Veronica asks. “So he’s forcing you to dress up like a society wife? Who are you meeting, that dude from Wolf of Wall Street?”

I scrunch my face up at her words, smiling. “No,” I say, laughing. “Just a regular ole’ business dude.”

The lie causes me to experience a rush of acid reflux. I pull open a drawer before Veronica can grab the rattail from my hair and pop two Tums into my mouth.

When I sit back in the chair, she removes the comb and gives me a light bop on the top of my head.

“What’s with you, Rons?” I ask, rubbing at the affected spot. I turn on the stool when she’s silent for a moment too long.

With a big sigh, Veronica puts the flat iron on the heat-resistant mat and folds her arms, leaning against the countertop.

“James called,” is all she says. I feel my mouth tighten at her statement because first, how fucking dare he? And second, how fucking dare he.

Veronica spilled some of the story to me over the past few weeks. I say “some” because I know there’s more she isn’t telling me.

But basically, all those “ball sniffers” Veronica was concerned about when James went on away games were valid concerns. He not only slept with hundreds of women over the past few years of their relationship, he also gave Veronica chlamydia—something she discovered at one of her prenatal appointments.

Instead of owning up to his (in my opinion, irredeemable) sins, he left Veronica and is shacking up with one of his other baby mamas.

Oh yeah. He also had a baby on Veronica by getting another woman pregnant.

So basically, fuck James Palmer. Fuck him all the way to the pits of hell.

“You want me to have Hunter get him taken care of?” I ask her, raising my eyebrow.

I’m only joking the tiniest bit.

Veronica rolls her eyes. “No,” she says with a big sigh. “Regardless of how much of a dickhead he is, he’s my child’s father.”

“And does he want to do that? You know, be a father?” I curl my fingers into my fist so I don’t start biting them…or rage-dialing him back to curse him out.

Veronica shrugs in response to that, cutting off the topic of conversation.

I take a deep breath. I need to respect her boundaries and not push her too much. Things are too fragile for her right now, and she doesn’t have the biggest support system. Her parents are traveling the globe again. Her mother stopped in for a week after Summer was born, but she left quickly. This was something that Veronica really appreciated—her leaving, that is.

She kept asking questions about James, James, James. Gia Lance never really was good at reading a room.

“Anyway, that call just messed with my spirit. I’m trying not to let him get to me, but I’m still irritated,” she says. She runs her hands over her stomach. It’s changed from what it once was. Her toned athletic figure is slightly rounder, softer. She’s still short and skinny but a bit thicker all over.

I think she looks fantastic, but she’s told me she’s self-conscious about the changes.

“Let’s make a voodoo doll later,” I say, straightening in the seat. She picks up the comb, sectioning a new part in my hair, and brings the flat iron to it.

“You know good and damn well you don’t do voodoo,” she says, focusing on my hair. I give a slight shrug.

“I’d learn for the cause,” I throw out. Veronica hums in response.

We’re silent for the next several minutes as she styles my hair. When she’s done, my hair is shiny and slicked back from a middle part, and the rest hangs down my back.

It’s similar to how I styled my hair when I first met Hunter.

The memory makes me smile.

“Anyway, I’ll leave you to do the rest of this,” Veronica says. When I glance at her face, she looks so incredibly tired. The dark circles beneath her eyes from not sleeping are a little better, but the sadness in her gaze guts me.

Before she leaves the bathroom, I grab her hand from my seat on the stool.

“How do you feel about you and me having a movie night? We can watch a Tyler Perry movie and eat popcorn and drink White Claws,” I say, smiling.

Veronica gives me a lopsided grin. “Not White Claw, sis. Some hard lemonade, at least,” she jokes.

“You got it,” I tell her, and she leaves the bathroom.

I stare at my reflection for a full minute, taking in the changes in my face. The scar left behind from my time with Adam is starting to fade into a memory thanks to the religious application of vitamin E oil.

But there’s something else I can’t quite put my hand on—and it’s a noticeable change in my appearance.

Maybe this is happiness…

Or maybe it’s something else.

Something I can’t allow myself to think about.

My hands shake as I blot primer and then foundation on my face. Squeezing the sponge, I say, “You’re all right,” to my reflection.

Kitty stands from his dog bed in the bathroom and stretches as he wakes from his nap. With a shake that jingles his collar, he cocks his head and stares at me with a look that telegraphs, Yes, you are.

My phone beeps on the counter, and I realize that I have thirty minutes before I have to leave.

Message received from both Kitty and my alarm, I pull out my eyeshadow palette while Kitty leaves the room to find food. I rush through the rest of my makeup routine and am surprised yet pleased at the outcome.

I add mascara and lashes and place three liquid lipstick tubes on the counter as a finishing touch.

What colors does one wear when entering the home of a mafioso?

Blood red, for sure.

“What are you wearing, Sunbeam?” Hunter’s voice comes from the doorway, and even though I expected him to show up at some point, I jump when he speaks.

Whirling around, I have to cross my legs to keep from trembling because holy fuck this man….

He wears a crisp white button-down shirt that, of course, isn’t buttoned in the slightest, with black slacks that emphasize his trim, toned waist. As he stands at the entrance of the bathroom, he works on buttoning his wrists and adding cufflinks, and I am not ashamed to admit that I want to lick him from his sternum to his happy trail.

“Um….” I say, and I resist wiping my mouth to check for drool.

Hunter looks away from his wrist and up at me beneath his lashes. My thighs clench more as he examines me from head to toe, and his gaze darkens.

He pauses when his eyes meet mine, and with a growing grin, he walks toward me until we’re inches from each other, and holy fuck this cologne. Are there pheromones in the bottle?

“Let me choose,” he says, positioning it as a request, but I know it’s not. I grip the counter behind me.

“What do you want to see me in?” I ask, automatically breathless. The lace of my bra grates against my skin as I struggle to breathe in and out.

“Hmmm,” Hunter hums, drawing out the sound. He runs a finger down the edge of my robe, pausing when he reaches where the belt is loosely tied around my waist. “Let me examine you to see what might honor your body.”

He releases the panels of the robe with the flick of his wrist, pushing them off my shoulders. The material pools over my hands where they latch onto the granite.

“Definitely something to accentuate your beautiful waist,” he says. “And while the thought of someone checking out your tits makes me feel feral, I have to admit, I’d love to see them on display.”

He pulls the strap of my bra down and kisses my shoulder.

“Hunter,” I say, moaning.

“You are delicious, baby,” he murmurs against my skin, and I’m grateful when he skates his hand beneath the band of my matching panties. “And your pussy is so juicy.”

I bite my lip while also quirking an eyebrow. “Juicy, H? That’s a terrible descriptor,” I say.

He smiles back. “Well, to say it’s ‘wet’ isn’t strong enough. ‘Luscious’ feels antiquated,” he says. But then he runs his finger up and down my slit, pressing just a fraction inside me, and our conversation about words completely loses importance.

“Kiss me,” I mumble, my eyes sliding closed.

He puts his hand on the back of my neck, running his thumb up and down my carotid artery, which causes me to snap my eyes open.

The look he gives me has me on the edge of orgasm.

He presses his lips to mine, but it’s a soft, gentle kiss. Full of love. It’s like he doesn’t want to separate our bodies, so the kiss goes on and on until he breaks it.

“You have no idea what you do to me, Sunbeam,” he whispers against my lips.

It’s probably the same thing you do to me.

I can’t form a complete sentence before he kneels on the plush bathmat beneath my feet, hoisting me up to sit on the counter.

My legs are spread, and his lips are on my pussy in seconds.

“Hunter!” I yell, resisting grabbing his hair. It’s styled so perfectly, and I don’t want to muss it.

He half growls, half chuckles as he works me up, my panties pulled to the side with one finger.

With his other hand, he strokes inside me long and slow, and when he pops off me with a devilish grin and says, “Come for me,” I do so with a few strokes of his expert tongue.

Gentling his movements, he rises and says, “I have a present for you.”

“Oh?” I reply, beginning to close my legs once my brain connects to my body.

“Yes. Don’t move,” he instructs, and I snap my legs back open, leaning back toward the mirror.

His smile grows. “Good girl,” he murmurs. In a few heartbeats, he’s out of the room and back with a black box in his hands.

“What is that?” I say, raising my eyebrow again.

He mirrors my facial expression. “Patience, baby,” he says.

I suck my teeth in response.

Starting to lean forward and close my legs, he tsks and steps between them so his body keeps me spread.

“You were doing so well, Sunbeam,” he murmurs and runs the back of his finger against my tight nipple. I suck in a breath when he pinches it, my sheath clenching with the pleasurable bite of pain.

Pain. This is something I’ve been reconciling within myself the more intimate Hunter and I get.

The idea of pain and sex together should send me into a tailspin, given my history. But with Hunter, everything we do is…everything. It’s fun. It’s sensual. It’s ecstasy. Every fucking time.

I’m learning what I like. I’m learning what my limits are. I’m so blessed to be able to learn about myself with Hunter.

I lose the battle not to touch Hunter’s hair when he pulls my nipple into his mouth, and the wet warmth has me plunging my fingers into the nape of his neck.

“We’re going to get all messed up, H,” I pant, and with a short sigh, he pulls back.

“True, true,” he says, mischief thick in his voice.

I narrow my eyes, assessing him. “What are you up to, Mr. Brigham?”

His smile is slow to appear, and he brings the box up between us with one hand.

“Open your gift, baby,” he says. I take the present from him and run one of my short fingernails beneath the sticker label, loosening it to lift the lid.

I stare at the object for a solid three seconds before lifting my eyes to Hunter’s.

“What is it?” I say, baffled. Nestled on a black pillow is a T-shaped silicone object that looks…too small and short to be a dildo. It almost looks like a corkscrew for a wine bottle but without any of the sharp bits. “It’s a sex toy?”

His smile dazzles me a bit. “Yep,” he says, still grinning.

I look at the toy skeptically, picking it up from the pillow. The material is buttery-soft in a dark midnight blue. The handle, if that’s what it is, curves up toward the shaft, so it looks a little like a canoe.

I nearly drop it when the thing starts vibrating in my hand.

“What the!” I shove the toy at Hunter, who laughs outright as he steps back.

“You know what this is, right?” he says, handling the toy with way too much casualness.

“I have guesses?” I say, staring at the toy.

“It’s a butt plug,” he says proudly. My eyes rush to his.

“Aren’t those usually….” I actually don’t know what butt plugs usually look like. I’ve watched porn, sure, but I haven’t strolled down the anal avenue much.

Or at all.

“This is a starter size,” Hunter says, putting his middle finger next to the shaft of the plug. “See? It’s not that much bigger than my finger.”

I swallow, and I’m sure that if he cared to look down, he’d see my pussy lips flutter as my sheath contracts.

“Right,” I say, breathless.

“You remember what I told you, right?” He leans into me, his lips millimeters from the shell of my ear. “I’m gonna fuck this ass one day.” He grabs a handful of my ass cheek, a considerable feat with how I’m positioned right now.

“Yu-huh,” I reply. Because what even are words right now?

“And I won’t hurt you, Sunbeam. So going from my finger, while thick, to my cock will be a process. So we’re starting with getting you used to something bigger.”

He hands it back to me again, and I stare at the thing for a long moment. Once I let myself really feel it, I realize that this is actually a luxurious material. The toy is sleek and—

Hunter buzzes the plug again, and now that I’m not shocked by it, I realize that the vibrations are actually incredibly silent.

“This is a high-quality toy, H,” I murmur, tilting it in various angles.

“I spared no expense for my baby and her ass,” he says with a grave tone that makes me burst out laughing again.

We look at each other—relaxed and grinning like fools.

I’m happy. I’m pretty sure he’s happy.

How long will this last?

I’m broken from my musings when I feel Hunter’s hand skate down my body from between my breasts. With a firm yet gentle tug, he pulls on the front of my panties, and I lift my hips so that he can remove them.

“I want you to wear this plug tonight,” he says.

My mouth drops open. “Tonight? As in this current hour, tonight? As in when we’re gonna be in the house of a mob boss, tonight?”

He grins; it’s devilish.

“Yes, baby. I’ve been thinking about this all day. This meeting with Misha isn’t anything I want to do at all. I’d much rather be home with you. But the thought of you sitting there looking fucking edible while I deal with the fucker makes the idea more tolerable.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “Think of it as a public service to my sanity.”

I snort. “Mmkay, right. My ass is a service to you.”

“Your ass is the ultimate service to me, baby, and I’m so grateful that you allow me to have the honor of access to you and your body.”

He places his hand over my chest.

“And your heart,” he adds. “So, what do you say?”

He bites his lip and gives me a look that I can never resist with him.

Not that I want to, because as he started to talk, he also started to massage my pussy, cascading teasing taps across my nub and sliding slow fingers through my wetness.

In a few minutes, it’s like I haven’t just orgasmed. I’m amped up again, just like that.

“I wouldn’t want you to suffer, H,” I say, trying to keep my eyes from crossing, so I close them instead.

“Fuck, baby, you are so gorgeous,” he rasps, and the weight and heat in his voice causes me to emit a small squeak.

His hand picks up the pace, sliding two fingers into pussy. I feel the wetness slick down over my rosebud, and Hunter kneels again to give the soft flesh above my clit a reverent kiss.

“Perfection,” he murmurs against my flesh. He skates his tongue out and gives a rolling lick over my button.

“Fuck, Hunter,” I say on a gasp.

“That’s it, baby. Come for me again so I can get you nice and relaxed.” My back bows and my head nearly hits the mirror behind me, but when he hoovers my clit into his mouth and puts a finger into my pussy and my ass, I shoot off like one of Elon Musk’s rockets.

I make an unintelligible sound, but he keeps up a gentle pace as I roll over and over in a luxurious orgasm.

Once I’m spent, he reaches into a drawer next to me and pulls out a bottle of lube with one hand, the other busy with a single finger in my ass.

“You’re a goddamn goddess, Winter,” he says, snapping the cap open. He pours a generous portion into his palm where it connects with my flesh.

When he massages it into me, taking time to lube up my ass liberally, I moan loud, the sound ricocheting off the bathroom tile.

“You’re killing me, Brigham,” I mutter, and I mean the statement to be a joke, but my eyes rise to his face when he jolts. He has a dazed look that wars with the red flush of lust that’s also present.

“Don’t ever stop, baby,” I say, whispering.

He closes his eyes in a long blink. When he opens them again, the blaze of his attraction to me is back and burning brighter than ever.

“You’re mine, Winter,” he growls. The sound feels like it comes from his soul.

I nod.

“Say it,” he hisses, and with his free hand, he grabs the back of my neck, tilting my head until I’m looking up at him.

“I’m yours. I was always meant to be yours, Hunter Brigham.”

A shudder rolls through him, and he releases a breath. Then with gentle movements, he leans down and kisses me. It’s slow and soft, and I realize that he still has a finger in my ass, and his thumb rubs my button in slow, firm circles.

“I love you,” I say with my lips pressed to his. He grabs my hand in a snap, but he doesn’t place it over his hard cock where it tents his dark slacks. Instead, he puts it over his heart. The organ races, beating in double-time, and I feel the press of his breath as his mouth opens and closes.

What is happening with you, my love?

“It’s okay,” I whisper, pulling back to look at him more. His eyes still look a bit dazed, so I run my hand from where it presses his chest up to his cheek. With a soft nudge, I turn him to look into my eyes. “Everything is okay. Everyone is safe. I’m safe.”

That seems to do something to him. With a short chuff, he slowly removes his finger from my bottom, and I try not to wince as he does so. But I forget any discomfort when he applies another healthy dollop of lube to the toy.

“Keep breathing and bear down, Sunbeam,” he says. Then, the soft, slippery head of the toy breaches my backside.

At first, the burn is considerable. I feel full in a foreign way that’s not all uncomfortable but just…strange.

“Inhale and exhale,” he says, pausing. I listen to him, releasing the tension in my abdomen so that I can focus on bearing down. When he pushes forward, sliding the toy inside me to the base, my mouth pops open in an O.

“You feeling okay, baby?” he murmurs close to my ear. I nod, not able to really find words as I assess what’s going on down there.

After a moment of rocking from side to side and hitting a particularly sensitive spot that has me on the edge of a moan, I say, “Just peachy.”

This causes him to snort, and a second later, I get the unintentional pun and join him in laughter.

When we settle down, I flick my eyes down to his still impressive erection.

“You know, if you were to just sliiiiiide this bad boy into my very willing snatch, we could solve your little issue in about five minutes.”

He takes a step back, smirking.

“Really? Only five minutes, Winter?”

I shrug. “I mean…will it take you longer?”

“You wound me, Sunbeam,” he says with a tilt of his grin. He puts a hand on each side of my thighs and closes my legs.

Oh, fuck, that’s….

“You good, baby?” he rasps.

I pant out a laugh. “Legitimately never better,” I say. With one parting glance, he moves away from me to wash his hands. I take a moment to stand from the counter gingerly and let the shiver shoot down my spine as everything shifts.

“Wait, you’re really not gonna let me get you off?” Our gazes meet in the mirror.

“No,” he says in a simple tone.

I don’t resist my pout, and he chuckles again as he turns off the taps and dries his hands.

“Potentially a silly question here, but why?” I throw back at him.

He spins around to lean against the counter with his dry hands in his pockets.

He shrugs before saying, “I need the extra testosterone in my system to go toe-to-toe with someone like Misha Hroshko.”

I give him a disbelieving look.

“That sounds stupid,” I say, taking two steps toward him so that I can grasp his belt buckle.

“Fuck me righ—oh, God!” Hunter smiles brightly as my legs cross where I stand, and I bend over at the waist to find some relief from the sensory assault that’s happening in my ass.

I snap my head up. “You! Stop that,” I spit out, but the gravity of. my words are muted when I giggle.

I giggle!

Hunter has the nerve to chuckle, and I suck in a breath when he pulses the remote in his pocket again.

“Behave and you’ll be rewarded, Sunbeam.”

He walks toward the closet where I keep my clothes, and I amble over to the counter, putting both palms flat on the cool marble to figure out how to function in this state.

“Turn around, Winter,” he says from behind me. I raise my head to look at him in the mirror.

“Turn it off, Hunter,” I say. I don’t know if I’m going to come again or faint or have some episode. I just know the sensations are incredible, and I want him to stop and keep going.

“Turn around, Winter,” he repeats, enunciating each word. To amplify his point, he turns the intensity up a few notches.

With great effort, I turn around with my eyes closed.

When he whispers, “Good girl,” I slide them open again and straighten my spine.

“There you go, baby. Do you think you can handle it?” He looks so fucking casual that I want to kick his shins and also drop to my knees and swallow his cock.

I nod.

“Words, Winter,” he snaps.

I open my mouth immediately and say, “Yes, I can handle it.”

I don’t say what I want to add, which is, “I fucking love this and you, Hunter Brigham.”

“Good,” he says. Then in deliberately slow increments, he lowers the vibrations until they shut off.

Phantom twitches hum through my body, warming all of my sex.

“I’m so gonna get you back,” I say, trying to infuse humor into my voice and not just lust.

“And I look forward to it,” he says, reaching out to me. He pulls me close to him and kisses me again, and the press of his lips to mine soothes my soul.

When he pulls back, he steps into the closet and returns with a black long-sleeved jumpsuit. It has a deep V-neck, and the open panels will show a considerable amount of cleavage.

“Wear this one,” he says. Commands.

“Yes, Sir,” I say, mostly joking. But the dark look that passes over his face has me wanting to take a step…toward him.

He gives me a soft chuck under the chin before leaving one final kiss on my lips. Moving to leave the bathroom, he pauses in front of the three lipstick options.

“And wear this one too.” He picks up the wine-colored tube of lip color from amid the other choices, and I love the vampy look it will give the ensemble.

“I look forward to wearing a ring of it around my cock tonight.” And with that, he leaves me.

I stand in the bathroom, clutching the hanger with my robe completely disheveled, until the alarm rings to tell me I’m late.

The words spin in my brain like a gong accompanying the artificial ringtone.

The words I’ve been so, so, so ignoring.

I’m late.

Fuck.

© 2024 Angel M. Shaw