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And then she was coming around him. Not just her pussy but her whole body. Convulsing and arching like she’d never come before. He stopped thrusting, pinning her against the tiles, letting her orgasm wash over her. Holding her tight because there was no way he was letting her go.
“Keep fucking me,” she whispered against his ear.
And so he did. Moving his hips, moving inside of her. Until he could feel the peak too, uncurling in his spine, making his balls tighten.
“Fuck…” He pulled out, coming hard, and his lips captured hers. His heart slammed against his ribcage, the pleasure wracking his body the same way it wracked hers.
And when he finally stopped surging, he gently set her down on the floor.
“That’s the first shower I’ve taken where I’ve ended up dirtier than I started,” he told her.
She lifted a brow, her face lighting up with the most beautiful smile. “Somehow I sincerely doubt that.”
Cassie’s eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim light in the bedroom. It took a moment for her to realize there was somebody else in her bed.
No, not somebody. Presley. Her breath caught as she looked at him, remembering last night.
They had sex twice more before she’d finally drifted off to sleep, her muscles aching in a delicious way. One time on the floor once they’d finally dried off – this time he’d insisted on getting her off with his mouth first – and then on the bed, which they’d laughed all the way through because he’d discovered she was ticklish on the sides of her body and had taken advantage.
So she’d returned the favor.
Sundays were Cassie’s only real day off. And she usually spent it by being lazy in bed for as long as possible before attacking her laundry pile and doing what she could to clean her house.
But this morning, she was apparently spending it staring at Presley Hartson.
He was laying on his front with his head facing her, one arm flung above his head, his eyelids flickering as he dreamed about whatever hot single dads dreamed about. But it was his tattoos that drew her eye. He had a big one of wings on his back, so intricately drawn that they almost looked like real feathers.
She reached out to touch it. No, it was definitely skin.
Warm, hard, masculine skin.
“I got that one for Delilah,” he muttered against the pillow.
Her lips twitched. “Did I wake you?”
“Nope. Still asleep.”
This time she grinned. “What time do you have to pick Delilah up?”
That made his eyes open. His little girl was definitely his achilles heel. “What time is it?” His voice was croaky. It reminded her of all those dirty words he whispered in her ear the second time they had sex.
Her cheeks flushed.
“Almost eight.”
He groaned into the pillow. “Why are you awake so early? Didn’t I wear you out?”
“Obviously not. But I’m younger than you so…”
Presley turned his head, his eyes open now. Narrow, though. “You’re not that much younger. What? Five years?”
“Something like that.” It was six, actually, but he didn’t need to know that right now. But the truth was he felt older. Not just because he was a dad but because he was actually a considerate love maker.
He’d made sure she came before he did. Three times that last time, when tickling and touching all mixed in together until she was riding a wave she couldn’t get off.
You definitely got off, honey.
She was pretty sure she wasn’t the most experienced lover he’d had. But hopefully what she lacked in skill she made up for in energy. Like a puppy.
