Tight and glistening cherry red nipples broke the surface for a moment, before the water covered them again, as if even they were teasing him deliberately.
"I did not come here to be worshipped," Veylara said, voice calm and even. "I came to wash and to breathe without an entire tribe watching me do it. If your eyes need something to do, you can help me with my hair. Some of the braids from the march are still in it."
Sol was stunned by the sudden request.
His throbbing cock gave a hard, involuntary jolt beneath the water at the invitation.
Helping the Warchief with her hair while she was naked in front of him felt far more dangerous than any battlefield order she had ever given. For a moment he simply stared at the dark, heavy mass of her wet hair, his heartbeats pulsing loudly in his ears.
But he forcibly calmed himself, locked the hunger down as best he could, and carefully moved closer, keeping his arousal hidden in the water.
