Inspired by this tweet: /darveyftw/status/1400530643252125700?s=21
Harvey's hand dips in the bubbles, quickly finding her lips and he plays with them, strokes up and down, inside and out, his movements barely making a ripple in the water.
But Donna's do. She writhes and moans and her knees knock together while her eyes close, and once he slips his thumb inside she hikes her calf over the edge of the tub, desperate for deeper contact, and water splashes onto his shirt.
"You're getting me wet," he comments, pinching her clit in reprimand.
"I don't care. Keep doing that."
So he does. Rubs her raw a few more times before sinking two fingers inside her tight core, curling and pressing in all the right ways.
Donna's hot and slick and now there's a definite current, rough little waves slapping against his forearm as he pumps his fingers into her over and over, feeling her clench, and the suction makes his mouth dry and his dick stiff.
She comes against his palm, undulating through release, trapping his wrist between her thighs and grinding with abandon. With his free hand he takes a breast, peeking through the bubbles and looking far too lonely for his taste. He kneads her gently until her spasms cease and then he retracts, pulls off his sopping shirt and undoes his belt.
He doesn't get much further before Donna's hands ease him out of his fly. When he bottoms out in her mouth he nearly slips on the soaked tile, slams his palms on the wall behind the tub while her tongue works its magic.
His orgasm coils in his belly far earlier than he'd like, but the suction from her lips is just as good as her pussy, and it comes with a view of wet, naked Donna, all slippery smooth, head bobbing up and down and that's what does it, the imagery and sensations blurring together in bliss.
She drains the tub and makes him mop the floor. He tells her it was worth it.