by Lex Martin
Her fingers shift through my hair before she arches up, and I kiss her earnestly. My lips slide across hers, and I yank her closer so I can breathe her in. Breathe in her sweet, warm scent that’s uniquely her.
With the last thread of restraint I possess, I pause. Because I should take care of her first before I get too inspired.
Worry clouds her expression when I pull back, but I dip down to kiss her again.
“Come on.”
I fold her arms through her robe and toss the towel on the floor to sop up some of the water. I’ll deal with that tomorrow.
Tonight, Tori’s my priority.
Threading my fingers through hers, I whisk her back to my bedroom, grateful the kids haven’t budged a muscle since I tucked them in earlier.
With a flick of my wrist, the recessed lights above the walk-in shower cast a warm glow into the dim bathroom.
Turning, I reach for Tori. “Want me to wash your hair?” I run my hand over her damp locks, barely keeping back a shiver when I think of how it looks draped over her body.
Another vulnerable smile tilts her lips, but the look she gives me from beneath her lashes quickens my pulse. “Would you? Wash my hair?”
“Of course,” I say, a prickle of awareness dawning on me that we’re not just un-pausing our relationship tonight. We’re barreling forward at full speed.
But this feels right.
With her eyes locked on mine, that shy smile fades until all I see is want.
She wants me.
And goddamn, I want her.
Everything slows down as she tugs on the thin fabric wrapped around her.
The pink robe slips down her shoulders. Over her full, pert breasts. Across the curves of her hips.
Until it’s resting at her bare feet.
Her wild, dark hair marks a damp path along her olive skin. In another lifetime, she could’ve perched herself on a rock, sung a siren’s song, and men would’ve gladly dashed themselves upon the craggy surface to be near her.
She shifts, and her tresses carve out a map of generous expanses I need to explore before I fucking die of hunger.
“Let me take care of you tonight, baby,” I whisper, brushing my palms over her bare shoulders.
She hesitates. It’s brief, but then she nods, reaching for me.
I love that this girl always goes for it. That although she has moments of shyness, she always takes a chance. Best yet? She doesn’t play games.
The last six years have taught me I hate goddamn games.
Tori’s a lot of things. Young. Beautiful. Feisty. Passionate. But never fickle.
It’s time I met her courage straight on.
When I pull her closer and cover her lips with mine, it’s with the knowledge that she and I are overdue.
And I’m looking forward to getting caught up.
Tori
Every part of me feels flushed and hot, like I’ve run a race and I’m out of breath but exhilarated from the effort. Maybe it was that stupid spider scaring me out of my wits a little while ago. Or how tender Ethan’s been with me tonight, coming to my rescue and listening to what happened to me as a child. Not laughing at me. Only wanting to comfort me.
Or maybe it’s knowing we’re about to do this for real.
Even though I’ve been with other guys, even though I’ve carelessly shared things about myself with men who didn’t deserve them, I know Ethan does, and being here with him right now feels important. It feels like a first. Like I’m handing him the parts of myself I’ve protected as I’ve waited for him to come into my life.
He leans into the shower and twists knobs until a rhythmic pulsing of water hits the tiles and steam begins to rise.
A quick pulse of expectation fires in my veins when he returns to me, finding my lips with his, and I groan into his mouth when his tongue strokes against mine.
When I pull back, I paint his mouth with my finger, wanting to memorize the feel of his skin and hue of his full lips. “I hadn’t planned on you this summer.”
He bites my finger, and I yelp and laugh.
“You know what they say. The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry.”
Handsome and smart. I have no clue who he quoted, but I don’t really care. “Then you’re my favorite mistake.”
Smiling, I step back just enough to slide my hand down his t-shirt, so I can yank the offending material off his body. He laughs at my eagerness, reaching back to his collar to help me with that one-handed shirt removal guys do that looks effortlessly sexy.
He shakes out his thick, dirty-blond hair, the shirt relegated to the cold tile, and I bite my lower lip to keep myself from grinning when I’m treated to all six-foot-something of muscled man. Of broad shoulders painted with ink and shadow and shapes that contour his powerful physique.
Pushing up on my toes, I press a kiss to his sternum and run my fingers through his smattering of chest hair. Like I’m following a treasure map, I let the trail lead me lower. He smells so good—like soap and leather and man. His hair is still damp and curling at the ends from a shower he took earlier this evening, but I don’t remind him that he’s already clean.
His gunmetal-blue eyes stay pinned on mine as I unbutton his jeans and shove off the denim. I look down to find his bulge straining against his boxer briefs.
And what a beautiful bulge it is.
With a held breath, I skate my finger along the thick curve, but before I make it to the tip, he catches my wrist in his big palm.
“No dessert before dinner,” he chides.
I laugh and dart into the shower, letting out a squeal when he smacks my ass.
Why is he so much fun? He works tirelessly every day, his brow furrowed as he slaves in the barn, only to be this flirty, sweet guy when he comes home.
Home.
My heart warms at that word and how I’ve come to associate it with Ethan and his family.
He joins me a moment later—stark naked—and my girly parts spasm at the sight. The man is built like one of his horses. Sleek, smooth, strong.
And very hung.
He wraps me in his arms, my back to his chest. Like this, his impressive erection thumps against my rear, and I expect him to ravish me, but instead, he nibbles my neck.
“Let’s wash your hair.”
And he does. Working in the shampoo until I’m covered in bubbles and a lovely grapefruit scent.
The feeling of his strong hands massaging my scalp has me wanting to purr and curl up at his feet like his pet.
After rinsing it out, he repeats the motions with conditioner.
I’m a wrung-out mass of relaxed muscle by the time he’s done. My eyelids droop, my breath is a slow, labored effort, and my entire body feels boneless.
“How are you so good at this?” I cringe at my question, because do I really want to know about his experiences with his ex-wife or former girlfriends? Yeah, no.
The thought of him with other women is enough to send a sharp shard of jealousy through me. Even though that’s ridiculous. We’re only starting out. Barely becoming a we. I can’t become a crazy jealous lover if we’re hardly even lovers.
I brace myself, just in case, but the effort is unnecessary.
“I have two kids, remember?” But then he kisses my neck and murmurs, “I’m glad you’re enjoying this, though, because I’ve never washed a woman’s hair before.”
All that anxiety melts away like a thunderstorm dissolving into the horizon.
How was he married and yet this is the first time? Isn’t this something a husband does for his wife from time to time?
Because, yeah, if Ethan were my husband, I’d want the deluxe package. Hair-washing, conditioning, and steamy shower sex. On the regular.
My heart does a happy skip in my chest at the thought of Ethan being mine in a permanent kind of way.
Calm down, crazy. He hasn’t asked you to pick out wedding invitations.
His big hands land on my hips and slowly turn me, and I’m smiling
from all of his attention. From knowing I’m the first woman he’s touched like this.
Standing in the shower, with water pulsing down and warm, amber lights shimmering from above, I’m overwhelmed by him. By the stubble across his strong jaw. By the electricity in his eyes. By the sleek strength of his body.
“I’ve never had a guy wash my hair.” I’m not sure why, but I feel shy and stare at his chest when I say this. “You’re going to spoil me.”
I swallow. The barest parts of me just beneath my skin feel so thirsty, like I’ve survived a long drought waiting for the rain. Waiting for him.
With one finger, he tilts my head so I have to look up at his beautiful face.
He smiles and leans down to brush his lips against mine. “Good. Because thinking about some other guy touching you like this makes me insane.” One more kiss, this time to my shoulder. “And I’d gladly wash your hair every day, sweetness.”
This is too fast. Too crazy. Too soon, a voice in my head screams, my limbs going weak.
Closing my eyes, I try not to get overwhelmed.
No, I want this. I’ve wanted this all summer, if I’m being honest with myself.
Aren’t the best things in life about taking chances? At least that’s how I used to feel when I was younger. It’s not fair to deny Ethan my full heart because I’ve made mistakes in the past. Carpe the fucking diem and all that, right?
I’m doing this, I decide. I’m all in. Because I don’t want to look back on my life and realize I screwed this up or lost out on a great man because I was too chickenshit to try.
His hot breath is in my ear when I pull his body closer, wrapping my arms around his neck, his sizable erection thumping against my stomach.
We slide together, and the moment our mouths connect again, we both groan. Those rough hands move down to my ass. Stroke along my thighs. Squeeze my breasts.
“You sure about this, baby?” he asks between deep, drugging kisses.
I’m over my internal crisis. Everything in me is slanted toward him like a field of wheat pointed toward the sun. “Fuck, yes.”
I grip his wet hair and hold his mouth to mine, which gets me another groan rumbling from his chest.
A moment later, and my back is against the wall. Wedged against the corner, where he picks me up by the back of my legs like I weigh nothing and settles me on his thick thighs so that my core is nestled perfectly against his erection.
We both look down at how he spears my flesh, the sight obscenely beautiful.
My thighs tighten and I try to move, but he won’t let me. For a second, his rough hands merely smooth over me, over my back and breasts and stomach until I’m a writhing mess. Slick and swollen and ready for him to fill me.
He doesn’t though. Not yet.
My heart is a heavy beat between my legs when he slides his wide cock against my skin. Quick jolts surge though me as his thick crown notches against my clit. Over and over and over again.
“You feel so good. So wet,” he murmurs against me. His shoulders and neck and forearms pull taut from holding me. From holding back and working me over.
I’m wordless. A free-fall of want and need and drive to finish.
My head falls back—mouth open, breath caught—as every part of me tenses, but then he’s sucking on my neck. Licking behind my ear. Biting my shoulder.
Unintelligible words fall from my lips, but they’re all a mixture of how good he makes me feel and how close I am and dear God, don’t stop.
But when his mouth closes around my nipple, I come apart, flailing. Flying. Shocking jolts of pleasure shuddering up my body.
I’m wrapped around him with my face pressed to his neck, panting and shivering with the euphoric surge of that orgasm.
Though he’s pressing sweet, soothing kisses to my shoulder as though we have all the time in the world to love and fuck, he’s still very hard and very thick between my legs.
The thought of that urges me out of my stupor and down to my knees. Because now it’s his turn to fall apart.
Ethan
My gorgeous mermaid slides down to her knees, the sight of which jerks my cock in anticipation.
“Do you have a condom?” she asks softly as she wraps her slender hand around my length and kisses the tip.
I watch her pink tongue dart out to taste me, to lick off the bead of cum weeping out of me.
Breathe.
Don’t blow all over her pretty face.
That would be rude.
And anti-climactic.
Her eyes shift up, and I remember she asked a question. “Yeah.” I clear my throat. “I do.”
Mentally, I thank my brother for being a nosy son-of-a-bitch and bringing me a box when it was clear I had it bad for this girl.
At first, she licks around the crown with teasing sucks and hungry noises that’s better than any spank bank material I’ve ever had. Because she is the fantasy. Long, wet hair tumbles over her shoulder, and I reach down to squeeze her ripe breasts that are flushed and full.
Mist rises around us, and my beautiful woman is kneeling before me, giving me the blow job of my life.
She strokes me with long pulls, all the while lavishing me with tantalizing licks, pausing once to glance up at me.
She’s such a vision. Eyes bright and vulnerable. Cheeks glowing and pink. Lips wet and swollen.
It’s only a moment, but that look is almost better than the blow job. Because it tells me she cares. That she’s invested. That she wants me as much as I want her.
Leaning back down, she welcomes me into her mouth again, the sensation so intense, I have to balance against the shower wall.
Fuck. She feels good.
Wet warmth envelops me while her fingers score my thigh like she’s trying to get closer. The sight of her stretched wide, sucking my crown before taking me down her throat, sends heat searing through my body. Instinctively, I wrap her long hair in my hand, a little moan escaping her when I fist it tight.
I don’t mean to do it, to pull, but then her hooded eyes lift to mine, and I realize she likes it, so I do it again, harder this time, yanking her down on me, the groan vibrating out of her tightening my balls.
“Jesus. Yes. Take it, baby. You feel amazing, letting me fuck your mouth.”
Words spill out of me, shit I’ve never said in my life, because I was raised to respect women, but for some reason, Tori makes me want to own her in every filthy way imaginable. Based on the smile in her eyes and the care in her touch, she very much likes the praise. Likes the way I thrust into her and swell against her tongue.
Because when I let go of her hair, her hands dig into my thighs and she holds me down the back of her throat. Goddamn.
It’s too much. Too raw. Too carnal. With a pained groan, I close my eyes so I don’t explode like a geyser.
As gently as I can, I pull her off and run my thumb along her swollen lips. “You okay? I didn’t mean to be so rough.”
She blinks, sending droplets of water to her cheeks, and nods slowly, but I can see the worry in her eyes when she quietly asks, “Did you… did you not like it?”
Leaning down, I pick her up, needing to feel her against me. “Fucking loved every moment of it.” Which I underscore with a ravenous kiss. “But I don’t want to end this with the world’s best blow job.”
Her airy laugh fills the room as I stalk out of the shower, reaching into the cabinet and fumbling with the condoms until I have one in hand. All the while she clings to me. Naked and pliant and so fucking exquisite, she steals the breath right out of my lungs.
The cold air makes her nipples tighten, and I can barely focus on putting one foot in front of the other to get us back under the warm jets. The moment I do, she wiggles out of my arms, plucks the condom from my hand, and rips it open with her teeth. A second later, she reaches between us to roll it on.
Perfect fucking woman.
I scoop her up again, two seconds from spearing her on my cock, but manners.
“Can you
take me like this?” Not trying to brag, but I’m a big guy, and she’s, what, five foot three? Maybe?
But she’s nodding and kissing me and telling me to hurry and when my fingers sink into her warm center from behind, finding her even wetter than when she came against my mouth, I can’t hold back any longer.
Leaning her back against the tile, with one hand on her curvy ass and one hand on my length, I prod against her opening. It takes a second to work my way in, the torturously erotic strain of it all making me throb harder.
Her eyes flutter closed and her mouth parts in a moan that tells me this feels as good for her as it does for me. Seeing her like this, thighs parted on mine, breasts heaving, nipples tight, it almost does me in.
“Tori, baby,” I groan into her hair, blissed-out of my mind to be with her like this. “You’re so beautiful. You feel so fucking good.” It’s been a long time since I’ve been with anyone. My whole body sizzles in expectation of delving deeper.
Her legs tighten around me, but then she hooks her feet against my thighs so she can lift herself, just an inch, before she settles down again, and I have to watch every mesmerizing second. Watch where we connect. Watch how she swallows me up. How she squirms and moans and shivers in my arms as she sinks lower.
I grab her ass with both hands to help her. Then we’re kissing, and she’s yanking on my hair, and I’m so goddamn deep I bottom out with a grunt.
And though my balls are tight and I’m really fucking close to coming, a gentleman always puts a lady first.
With her thighs plastered to mine and her wetness coating my cock, I snake a hand between us to rub that sweet nub until she’s bucking and crying out. Until she’s pulsing on me and grinding down so hard, I explode too, emptying into her with such force, I have to wrap my arms around her and lean against the wall so we don’t collapse to the ground.
Has it ever been that good before?
We shudder on each other, aftershocks working their way through our connected bodies. Like fault lines after an earthquake, the ground shifts, the scenery rearranges, but the pieces fit back together.
In this case, the aftermath is better because Tori is in my arms, blinking up at me with heat and sweetness in her eyes.
