“A little.”
“What about your clit? Is that sensitive too?”
His other hand drifts down my stomach, over my mound, and one finger moves between my legs. It only takes him a few seconds to find the sensitive little nub, and he starts stroking it in time with his thumb strokes on my nipple. Using one finger, he circles my clit with slow, gentle movements. At the same time, he pinches my nipple a little harder than before, and the disparity of the two sensations makes my core tighten with need. Every time he tugs or pinches my nipple, he gentles the touch between my legs.
A whimper escapes me, but I’m not sure if it’s need, pleasure, or frustration. It’s probably a combination of all three.
“Ross.” His name comes out sounding heavy, because it feels like I’ve been waiting for this moment my entire life. Then, just as I feel the first flutters of the coiling in my belly, he switches hands. The one that was between my legs is now covering my other breast, and the fingers that had been tugging at my nipple are now between my legs.
“You’re wet,” he murmurs, nibbling my earlobe. “You like when I touch you?”
“Very much,” I say in a shaky voice. His finger is gliding along my slit now, pausing when he gets to the entrance of my vagina.
“So wet,” he whispers gruffly. He dips just the tip of his finger inside me, swirling it in my juices. Then he lifts his hand and brings his finger to his mouth, sucking it. “Mmm, better than any fucking dessert.”
“Ross.” My voice is a needy whimper. “Please.”
“Hands on the wall, spread your legs.”
I can’t scramble into position fast enough.
“That’s it, pretty girl.” He pauses. “You ready?”
He doesn’t wait for a response, pressing into me slowly, one excruciating inch at a time.
“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Now hold on tight.”
He pulls out to the tip and then thrusts in deep, bottoming out. Then he pulls back and does it again. And again. His movements are rough but precise, as if he already knows exactly what I need.
His hands move around to my breasts, kneading and pinching in time with his thrusts. His mouth is on my neck, teeth scraping across my skin. Every nerve ending in my body is on fire, already addicted to his touch.
“Please,” I plead, surging back against him.
“Not yet, pretty girl. Let me enjoy this.” Our bodies slap together as the water sluices over us. It’s a perfect moment in time, passion and pleasure lifting me to heights I didn’t know I was capable of. Every stroke of his cock, tug on my nipples, brings me closer to nirvana.
“I need you to come for me now, Wynter,” he growls against my ear. He pinches my nipples hard enough to make me gasp, simultaneously thrusting so deep that my eyes roll back in my head.
I’m no longer in control of my body. It’s merely become a vessel for our shared pleasure. My orgasm comes out of nowhere, hitting sharply and sending me spiraling. Ross continues to pinch, tug, and thrust—keeping me in the same heightened state of arousal for much longer than any other time before.
“Oh please, not again, I can’t—” I moan as yet another wave washes over me. I feel him jerk and then grind out my name. We stand there for what seems like a long time, not moving, tiny pulses rippling over both of us. Finally, he pulls out and gently turns me so he can pull me against his chest.
“Damn,” I say, sighing happily. “That was unbelievable.”
He presses a soft kiss on my temple before saying, “yeah, it was.”
“I honestly didn’t think we’d end up here tonight, “ I admit softly.
“I feel like it was inevitable,” he says.
“I thought you were mad at me earlier.”
He shakes his head. “I wasn’t mad at you. I was just frustrated with myself. Sometimes it’s hard to think about the past. I know it’s been a long time, but I still have nightmares sometimes. I see the bloody, mangled bodies on the side of the road. Wonder why them and not me? I don’t know if that will ever go away.”
“Have you ever talked to anyone about this? A professional?”
“In the beginning, I was too angry, too broken. Then as time went on, I tried but no one helped and eventually I couldn’t keep reliving it. Therapy wasn’t going to bring them back.”
“No, but therapy could help you learn to live with the loss. Or at the very least, stop having nightmares.”
