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He’s hot, he’s rich, he can have anyone he wants, and he chooses me, over and over again, every day. He’s chosen me for the last three years and shows no signs of changing his mind anytime soon.
So I silence those worries and turn in his arms, rising onto my tiptoes so I can reach to kiss him. He moves his arms from around my shoulders to around my waist, pulling me against him.
The warmth of his bare skin against mine sends tingles running through me. He nibbles my lower lip, and a moan escapes me. After a moment, he releases me and straightens. “Go get in that shower, I’ll come join you in just a second,” he tells me.
Somewhat reluctantly, I nod and obey. He jogs off back into the bedroom and I slip into the warm spray of the shower. I hastily give all the unmentionables a good scrub down. Even though we live together and most of the not-so-attractive “firsts” have already been seen and done, sometimes it’s nice to pretend everything’s as sexy as it is in the movies.
Although when Brendon returns, I can see that that illusion has already been shattered. He’s got a bottle of silicone lube in hand, a reminder that shower sex and spontaneity are not necessarily friends. Even though lube is seldom a problem for us, introducing water to the equation is always a different story.
He slips into the shower with me, and part of me is expecting him to dive right in, but to my surprise, he sets down the bottle and instead picks up the bottle of shampoo.
After making sure my hair is sufficiently wet, he pours out a dollop and lathers it into my hair, massaging my scalp for a while before working the stuff through to my ends.
A little sigh of pleasure escapes me, and I close my eyes. He did this the very first time we’d showered together, after the first night we ever slept together, and he’s done it almost every time since. I’ve tried to return the favor, but the massage part is a little difficult with the heigh difference. He keeps joking that he’s going to build us a custom shower with a ladder for me.
“Have I mentioned just how much I love that?” I ask him as he shifts me under the water to rinse away the suds.
“Maybe once or twice,” he smiles.
I tip some body wash into my palm. “Turn around,” I direct him.
He obeys, and I set to work washing his back, massaging his back, shoulders, and as high up his neck as I can comfortably reach. When I hit a particularly sore spot, he lets out a groan that makes heat surge between my thighs.
“Fuck, you’re so good with your hands, baby,” he groans.
“Damn right,” I reply with a smug little smirk.
I reach around his waist and grip the base of his cock, already standing partially erect. Slowly, I pump my fist over the full length, feeling it stiffen rapidly in my grip until he’s hard as a rock.
He gently peels my hand away so he can turn around. He reaches down and grabs me by the ass, hoisting me up and pressing me against the wall. I let out a little squeal as my back hits the cold tile, but the shock is quickly forgotten when his head dips down so he can take one of my nipples between his lips.
I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist to help support myself, and he uses the assistance to free up a hand. And that hand delves between my thighs, running teasing fingertips along my slit before plunging between my folds.
“Oh, fuck, yes,” I whimper, my hips bucking against him.
He finds my clit and teases it with skilled fingers, working the sensitive little button in the ways he knows I like. “One second,” he murmurs.
It’s a bit of an awkward reach for him to bend down and grab the lube with me still clinging onto him like a koala, but he manages, and once we’re back in position, he carefully pours a little into his hand.
Once he’s done, he just lets the bottle fall rather than trying to go through the process again to put it back, and his hand makes its way back to my cunt.
While his thumb works some kind of magic on my clit, he slips a lubed-up index and middle finger into my pussy, coating my sensitive flesh with the slick stuff.
“Please, Brendon,” I moan, “Faster, please, I’m getting close.”
He seems quite happy to obey, pumping his fingers faster until I’m screaming and my whole body is trembling in release.
While I’m still coming down, he pulls his fingers out and slicks what’s left of the lube (and presumably some of my own natural stuff) over the length of his shaft.
“Ready for me, Babygirl?” he asks, leaning in and kissing my ear.
Even though I’m still sensitive and tingling, I nod. He presses his lips to mine, and I feel him guiding the head of his cock into place. Mercifully, we haven’t had to mess with condoms since I had an IUD put in eight months ago.
And in my post-orgasm state of heightened sensitivity, the sensation of his huge cock plunging into my pussy is nothing short of exquisite. Not to mention the fact that with his crazy schedule lately, there’s been a lack of time and energy that’s kept us from enjoying some of our favorite activities together.
I haven’t exactly been keeping a calendar since our last escapade, but it’s been a while, and my body’s response is pathetically needy. I’m grateful his lips muffle the mewling whimpers tumbling from my mouth, but there’s no stopping the desperate bucking of my hips.
He seems to take the cue, or maybe his own need drives him, but there’s no more playing around when he starts moving, he simply pounds me, hard and fast, driving every inch of his cock deep inside me and making me howl in bliss.
