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The moment she walks through the door, I have her pinned against the wall, her wrists locked over her head, my leg between her legs. She laughs, because I like doing that, but I’m dead serious.
Dead tired, dead serious, dead horny.
“Hey,” she says, smiling up at me, and like every time it undoes the knot in my chest, letting me breathe more easily. “Sorry I was late. I was talking to Lin about my stuff ther—”
I kiss her, not caring if it isn’t the right thing to do. All I know is that I crave her like oxygen, like water, that it’s been a shitty day, and now she’s here.
Her lips are soft and warm, her flavor that sweetness that’s all her. No other girl tastes like her. Truth is, all other girls faded the moment she smiled at me.
r /> I kiss her harder, licking inside her mouth, pressing my knee harder against her pussy, loving the moan that escapes her. My dick is an iron bar in my pants. I’m so hard, I’m already tearing at her clothes, desperate to sink inside her, and not caring if we fuck against the wall—again.
It’s our thing, right? The thing of two people who miss each other too much when they’re apart. Is it normal, to miss her so much?
But she jerks and gasps, looking over my shoulder, and I make myself stop and turn.
JC is passing by, carrying a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He nods at us, as if he found us by the side of the road on his way to work. “Remember the bathtub,” he says gravely, nodding like a bobblehead, and goes on his way.
“What?”
“Sex,” he calls over his shoulder. “In. the. Tub.”
My dick likes the thought, that’s for sure, hardening so much it actually hurts.
Cos’s brows have gone up and her eyes are round. “Did he just suggest—?”
“The tub was his main selling point when he tried to convince me to rent the room.”
“You didn’t want this?” She gestures at the luxurious apartment.
“I thought I couldn’t afford it. Now, where were we?”
She laughs softly. “The tub?”
“That’s right. Let’s go.”
“Really?” She laughs harder when I slip my hands around her waist and lift her up a little, to carry her toward the bathroom.
Her arms go around my neck, and somehow we’re kissing again, stopping to shed clothes and touch. Her cool fingers slip under my T-shirt, pushing it up to trace my abs, while I pull off her jacket and tug down her skirt.
Half-dressed, stumbling over garments, we inch toward the bathroom—though I’m starting to wonder if we’ll make it there.
Shoving the bathroom door open, I drag her inside and turn on the taps, then tear the rest of her clothes off—her blouse, her tights, then her bra.
God, I love her tits, her belly button, her hair, her shoulders, her thighs, her pussy. Love how she seems as hungry for me as I am for her.
The tub is filling nicely, steam wafting up, fogging up the air. I pull the tie from her hair and it curls, glossy, on her shoulders. She rises tiptoe to kiss me and I lift her up, and over the rim of the tub.
God, she’s beautiful, wreathed in mist, dark hair, dark eyes, red lips, dusky nipples, all curves I want to map with my mouth and my hands, the triangle between her thighs drawing my gaze, making my dick twitch and weep.
I climb inside with her and sit, drawing her down with me. My hard-on juts out of the warm water that’s lapping at our bare skin, and she licks her lips as she lowers herself over it. She sinks on top of my cock, her heat enveloping me.
Oh damn…
She leans over me, her soft tits swaying, and I cup one, tracing her pretty nipple, making her hiss. She starts to move,
I feel like I’m drunk. Drunk on her. It’s the heat, I tell myself, the steam rising up from the water, the slickness of her skin. It’s seeing her on top of me like this, moving slowly, eyes heavy-lidded, lips parted, drops of condensation running over her creamy skin as if on crystal.
She’s like crystal. Transparent, fragile, precious.
