My dress was weighed down with water, sagging to barely cover my nipples. The elastic band at the top of the neckline clung to their hardened nubs. He hooked one finger inside of it, and, with little to no effort, he eased my dress off one breast then the other.
Both of his hands took hold of my ribs, and not for the first time, I was shocked at just how much surface area of my body they took up. They felt huge and strong. And even though I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself, the squeeze of his grip made me feel protected. Even without a threat, there was the promise that all of his force and mass would keep me safe—like the flash of warning in his eyes with the guy who had stepped on my dress.
But that was exactly the thought process that I needed to be careful of.
He wasn’t here to be a protector.
His hands were powerful and large, but they were not mine.
He drew his thumbs along the underside of my breasts, barely brushing my nipples, and it was enough for the breath to rush out of my lungs. He brushed his lips along my shoulder, placing kisses on the line of my collar bone.
“I didn’t think I’d get to do this again. Be with you,” he said, his voice lowered like a confession. It tingled across my scalp.
I swallowed, suddenly concerned that I might reveal more of myself than I was sure I should. “It didn’t seem like it mattered.”
He pulled back, meeting my eyes for the first time since I joined him in the shower. The intensity in his brown eyes tugged at the shield I’d wrapped tight around my heart. “It matters.”
He doesn’t mean it like that, I told myself.
Still the part of me that existed for self-preservation urged me to leave. I probably should have gone. But the delusional side of me insisted that I could have this and not end up emotionally wounded.And even if I was wounded in the end, it would almost certainly be worth it. For just a weekend, I could have it all.
As long as I didn’t convince myself it was anything more than lust.
I pulled my dress down, shimmying to get it over my hips. It landed on the tile with a splash. “Let’s make it matter, then.”
A groan rumbled in his throat, and he moved with a speed that made my breath catch in my throat. One moment my arms were at my sides, the next both of my wrists were over my head, restrained in one of his as he was rotating me to press my back against the glass wall. The fingers of his free hands squeezed into the flesh of my ass, and my hips bucked seeking the pressure of his body.
His mouth was on mine, urgent and starved. I struggled to free one of my hands, needing to pull him closer somehow, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he kissed down my neck to the tops of my breasts. I hooked my leg around his thigh. I couldn’t get enough of my skin on his. I didn’t want him to stop his dissent down my body, his tongue flicking across my sensitive nipples, and I wanted more of his lips on mine. It was impossible to decipher which of my impulses was louder.
Sucking my nipple between his lips, he groaned.
My head fell back against the glass, and I sighed. “I need you to kiss me again.”
My breast fell from his mouth with a pop.
“No, don’t stop,” I begged.
Grinning up at me through his lashes, he asked, “Which is it?”
“Yes,” I answered.
The smile stretched across his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes as he cupped my face in one of his stupidly large hands and lowered his mouth to mine. This time with less demand. An offering.
He released my wrists. Wrapping both of his arms around my waist, he held me tight to his naked body soothing the noise blaring in mymind. I relaxed into him. Water droplets splattered onto my eyelids. His hair curled around my fingers. His heart pounded a beat against my chest. His hands moved up and down my sides, my thighs. Easing closer and closer to my pussy.
When his pinky brushed my lips, I gasped but he didn’t stop kissing me—just placed a kiss to the corner of my mouth. His hand kept an easy rhythm. Drawing out my desire with his fingers splayed as if he was trying to touch as much of me as possible. Up my pelvis, over my stomach, down my side, down my hip, down to my knee. Then up my inner thigh. Over my mound, wonderful pressure on my clit for a moment. Again and again.
It felt so good.
It was maddening.
I leaned the back of my head against the shower wall, the loop of his touch growing tighter until finally it was just his index and middle finger over my mound and between my lips. When he delved inside of me, the heel of his hand pressed firmly against my clit, we both sighed. His fingers worked inside of me, and I rocked my hips. The thumb of his free hand rested under my jaw. His palm against my throat. His grip a presence over such a sensitive part of me, but he didn’t squeeze. My nails dug into the flesh of his shoulders holding on for dear life ashe urged me closer and closer to my release. It was coming so fast—a culmination of hours, days, months of needing.
An endless barrage of him flooding my thoughts, and the constant energy it took to turn my mind to something else. Someone else, when it felt like only he would satisfy.
Which was ridiculous.
He wasn’t my only positive sexual experience. I knew other people could get me off.
