He had no problem taking on that role.
Her hips were pushing forward and back as she worked herself to a fevered pitch, her hands still holding his cock. He didn’t think she knew. She wasn’t doing much more than gripping it like a lever and moving it toward her body.
It was enough that he knew he could be done in seconds if she didn’t get there first.
But she did. Her inner muscles twitching, grasping on and not letting go.
He loved to feel her coming. Loved to know that he brought her there.
Their kissing stopped, but her lips were still pressed to his as she groaned out her release.
When her head went down to his chest, he removed his hand, put it in his mouth and sucked on his fingers. “Best breakfast there is.”
She groaned but smiled at the same time.
She stepped back, the towel dropping to his feet, her hand now sliding up and down, and her head lowered to lick the tip. “I might say the same,” she said.
“Best not to do that here,” he said. “First, don’t need you coughing that loud, but my shout would be even louder.”
Her face filled with heat, but she continued to jerk him off, her eyes watching her motions the whole time.
Fast, then slow. Her thumb grazed the tip for more fluid and spread it around.
Every time he thought he was going to blow, she changed it. She’d try something new.
She’d prolong it until the frustration might be as great as he’d felt waking up alone this morning.
Only this time he knew he was getting relief and he did.
The minute she latched onto what worked the best, she sped it up, pumping her fist so hard and fast he almost shot it on her dress if she hadn’t jumped out of the way.
She kept going, kept milking him dry until he gripped the counter to steady himself.
“There is more steam in here now than when I opened the door.”
He leaned down to kiss her quickly. “Damn straight. Now I need another shower.”
“Crap,” she said. “I should clean up but don’t want to get in the shower.”
“There are washcloths in the drawer.”
He grabbed a fresh one, turned the shower back on, ran it under the warm stream, then worked a little soap into the fabric before handing it to her.
She didn’t hesitate. Just lifted her dress, slipped her panties down, and cleaned up like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And it was.
That ease between them, the quiet trust said everything she tried so hard to deny.
What they had wasn’t pretend. It wasn’t something that burned bright only to fade.
It was real. The kind of effortless connection that felt like it had always been there waiting for them to find it.
Now all he had to do was make her believe it too.
30
HANDLE YOURSELF
