Page 65 of The Write Choice

He hums, then kisses the place where my neck meets my collarbone, his hands moving over my leggings, caressing the dip just above my hips, then splaying over my lower abdomen. “I’m having a hard time committing to a conversation when you’re half naked and there’s a perfectly good shower ready to go behind us.”

I lean my head further away so he can access my neck, which he does. “We wouldn’t want to waste any more water.”

“Mmm-mmm,” he agrees, still pressing a hot line of kisses along my neck and collarbone.

“We’ve wasted so much already. We should probably shower together to make up for it,” I suggest.

He pulls away and spins me to face him. My breasts press up against his upper torso. He reaches a hand between us to cup one, gently twisting the nipple. My head falls back as he snakes an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer. “We talk later,” he insists. “Promise me.”

I let out a deep moan, which will have to do because words are failing me at the moment.

He pinches my nipple harder, and my center aches for him. “Promise me,” he says again, his voice hard and commanding. Fuck, that’s hot.

“I promise,” I manage to say, and that’s all it takes for his lips to crash into mine. He backs us into the shower, pants be damned, and presses me against the wall. The cold tile combined with the hot water and Brandon’s hands skating all over me overwhelms my senses, but in a good way. In a way that brings me out of my head rather than settling me further into it.

I break my hands free to shimmy myself out of my wet leggings and underwear. He does the same with his sweatpants and boxers, kicking the pile of it out of the shower with a wet plop. I giggle at the sound.

Brandon rests his forehead in the place where my neck meets my collarbone, breathing heavy. “Do it again,” he says softly.

“What?” I loop my fingers around the hair tie holding his hair in place and pull. His hair cascades around his shoulders, darkening under the water.

He pulls back, his hazel eyes searching mine. “Laugh. Again.”

My eyebrows pinch together. I run my fingers through his hair, and his eyelids flutter closed. “You don’t laugh nearly enough, Cat. Not anymore. I want to hear it again.”

“Mmm,” I hum. The tip of his cock presses into my hip. I wrap my hand around it, pumping a few times. My hand glides over him easily with the added slickness of the water. “I don’t think you want me laughing while I’m doing this.”

He lets out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a loud moan.

I laugh again, and his eyes fly open. “Shh,” I hush him. “This isn’t going anywhere if you wake up a kid.” I stroke him a few more times as he lowers his lips to my nipple. The coarse hair of his beard burns the sensitive skin on one side as he plays with the other with his fingers. My back arches into him.

I reach between us and cup between my legs, pressing against my swollen opening with a finger. Brandon practically growls.

“No, Cat. That’s mine,” he says, then sinks to his knees. He plants his palms firmly on my hips, then moves me directly into the stream of water. It splashes over his shoulders as he looks up at me. His hand skates down my right thigh, and he lifts it over his shoulder, opening me to him. He drags a finger ever so slowly through my center. I shudder and buck my hips involuntarily into him. His eyes meet mine as he slides a finger into me, then another. A low rumble escapes me, my eyes never leaving his.

He pumps his fingers a few times, then trails a line of kisses up my right inner thigh. I glide my hands up over my full hips to my breasts, cupping and kneading them to heighten the sensation.

“Yes, Katie. Fuck, I could worship you on my knees like this all day. You’re a fucking goddess.”

Goddess. This draws another laugh from me, though breathier this time, the image of his lips on my thigh mingling with memories of sculpture and art. His hands are molding my skin like clay. Brandon looks pleased. I’m not sure if it’s because I laughed again or because of the shared memory. My hips and breasts are fuller now than they were then. I look down at where the fingers of his free hand dig into my left hip, leaving little indents behind, and I can almost see what he sees. It’s sexy as hell.

My gaze shifts to where his fingers are fucking me, his face upturned and enraptured. I take in a shuddering breath as the pressure builds in my core, leaning my head back against the tile and letting the water fall over me.

I’m not looking when his lips kiss my clit, but when his tongue licks that sensitive spot, it has the same fervor and reverence his expression had a few moments ago. His beard scrapes the delicate skin on the insides of my thighs, and again, I’m overwhelmed.

“Oh,” I breathe. “I think… I’m going to…” I can’t finish the thought, because Brandon picks up the pace with both his finger and his tongue, and I fall completely over the edge. I cover my mouth so as not to shout too loudly.

Brandon pulls his fingers out of me, and I make a small noise of protest. He’s not done with me, though. He turns me to face the glass door, then runs his fingers from my shoulders down to my hands. He grips them, bringing them up in front of me and placing my palms on the shower door. He bends me over just slightly, then uses his palms to spread me for him.

His cock enters me in one, desperate thrust. I moan at the sudden fullness, still a bundle of nerves from my orgasm. He thrusts once, then twice, then stills.

“Dammit, Katie,” he curses. “I don’t think I’m going to last very long.”

I chuckle, then wiggle my backside closer to him, drawing him deeper inside me. He inhales sharply. I look at him over my shoulder. He’s wearing a mischievous smile.

“Do not move your hands,” he demands, pulling out ever so slowly, then ramming back into me. My head falls between my arms as I moan. He feels so good. He’s always felt so good.

I hear a noise to my left and turn my head. Brandon has taken the handheld showerhead off its mount. He clicks it a few times to change it to the massage spray, then holds it with his left hand, bringing it around to the front of me. He angles it so the water hits just the right spots, and my hips buck into him. His other hand lands on my ass, gripping its fullness as I imagine he was clutching my hips earlier. The image of it has me close to coming again, but I try to breathe through it, to wait it out until he’s ready.