Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75547 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75547 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Something in me snaps clean in two.
I lift her, her legs wrapping around my waist instinctively, her body molding to mine like it was built for it. She gasps, clutches at me, and the sound of it is pure fire. My mouth finds her neck, biting, soothing with my tongue, while she tilts her head back, offering more.
“Mark me,” she pants as I can’t help but devour the flesh at the bend of her neck into her shoulder.
The shower becomes its own world—steam thick, water pounding, every surface slick and hot. I move against her, with her, like we’ve been waiting lifetimes for this. Every kiss, every touch, every desperate press of her body to mine lays claims ways words never will.
She moans my name, breathless, and the sound undoes me. I’ve heard my name a thousand ways—growled, barked, cursed—but never like this. Never like it was an answered prayer.
I can’t get close enough. I push, pull, taste, devour. She clings, answers, gives, takes. We find every angle the small space allows, bodies colliding with a kind of raw grace that only comes when there’s no fear left, only want. The water beats down, mixing with the sweat, the salt, the heat of us.
At one point she grips the back of my neck, pulls my forehead to hers, eyes blazing. “Don’t hold back,” she pants. “Not with me.”
And I don’t.
I let go. I let her see the man under the control, under the restraint, under the years of telling myself I couldn’t trust this with anyone. I give her all of it, every ounce of hunger, every drop of need, every jagged edge of me that usually stays caged.
The shower echoes with our gasps, our groans, the slap of water against skin, the scrape of her nails down my back. The sounds of our bodies moving as her pussy clinches tightly around the thick length of my cock as if her own damn body can’t get enough of me. The world outside doesn’t exist. There’s only her, me, and the storm we’re making.
When it finally breaks—when her body goes tight around me, when she cries out my name with her head thrown back against the tile—it feels like something bigger than sex. It feels like a fuse lit, a vow sealed, a truth spoken without words.
I follow her over the edge, burying my face in her shoulder, groaning like the sound’s been ripped out of me. Every nerve fires, every muscle shakes, the release crashing through me like the first real breath after drowning.
We cling to each other under the spray, her body wrapped around me as I carry her weight effortless, water still pouring, but it might as well be silence for all I notice. My chest heaves against hers, her fingers still tangled in my hair. She’s trembling, not with fear, but with the same aftershock rattling through me. I feel it through my balls as my cock throbs inside her going soft.
I press my lips to her temple, lingering there, breathing her in. For once, I don’t try to put words to it. There aren’t any good enough.
All I know is this: I warned her. She stayed. She chose. And now there’s no going back.
The water’s still coming down hard, but it feels different now. Less like it’s pounding me clean, more like it’s trying to cool us off and failing. My chest is pressed to hers, her arms looped tight around my shoulders, and her legs wrapped around my waist, for a long moment neither of us moves. We just breathe, lungs struggling to catch up with what our bodies already said loud and clear.
Her forehead rests against mine, wet strands of her hair plastered across her cheek. She’s smiling, the kind of smile that isn’t polished or planned. It’s raw, messy, just for me.
“You okay?” I murmur, voice rougher than the gravel lot behind the shop. “I wasn’t too rough?”
Her smile softens. “Better than okay.” She presses a quick kiss to my mouth, then another like she can’t stop herself. “I missed you.”
Those three words gut me in the best way. Not because of how she says them, but because of how much truth there is in them. I spent three days pretending I didn’t miss her. Spent three days convincing myself that missing someone wasn’t something I did. And then she walks into the shower my only thought is I can’t get close enough. Even now, my cock still inside her, our bodies, joined and touching in every possible way, and I still want to get closer to her. She’s inside me like that. Her spirit locked to mine.
I kiss her back, slower now, steadier. A promise instead of a demand. My hands skim her back, feeling her relax under the touch, her legs still wrapped snug around me.