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The smell of citrus and pine soap infiltrated her senses as her mind blanked of thought.
His hands were on her breasts, his soapy fingers plucking at her nipples. Warmth gathered between her legs as she squirmed against the smooth tile wall of the shower, her mouth open to let out a moan of pure bliss.
That time in the car, the time on the couch in the basement and the handful of other forgettable times she’d been intimate with her exes faded into the ether the second Gavin guided her under one of the sprayers and slipped his fingers between her legs.
He stroked her while kissing her deeply, his facial hair scraping her mouth, his seeking tongue hot on hers. Then he left her so abruptly, she had to put her hands out to keep from sliding down the wall.
She blinked down at him, on his knees before her in the huge shower. Water trickled down his cheeks, droplets bouncing off his head. His hands were wrapped around her thighs and he instructed her to come closer, using deliciously dirty words to do it.
A second later, he put his tongue to better use and lapped at her folds. She did what came naturally, which was rest her hands on his head and run her fingers through his damp hair.
Her hips thrust. She rode his tongue as he delivered blow by blow to her most intimate part. As she was coming apart, her legs shaking beneath his hands, he slipped a finger into her, and then two.
A long groan of pleasure—hers—echoed off the shower walls. The orgasm hit her with a rush, stars appearing on the screens of her eyelids. She rested the back of her head against the shower wall. By the time her breathing had regulated and his hands had returned to her thighs, she realized she was gripping his hair with enough force to pull it from the roots.
“Oh my God.” She released him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Her voice was a puny rasp, her apology as limp as her limbs.
He rose to his feet slowly and her eyes feasted on his body. His muscular chest with the perfect amount of chest hair, the bumps of his abs, the sharp delineations next to his hip bones. She’d never tire of seeing him naked—she thought she’d committed the vision to memory, but here she was ogling him like it was the first time.
“Never,” he warned, his face devoid of his usual smile. “Never apologize for coming on my tongue.”
She blushed furiously and then his grin appeared.
“What’s next on your wish list? More of the same?” He palmed her throbbing sex and she shuddered. “I can go all night if you like.”
“You’re too much.” She bit her lip. He thumbed the tender flesh away from her teeth and kissed her.
“I’m exactly what you ordered. So, start ordering.”
Carte blanche access to Gavin Sutherland. Where to begin? But she knew. It’s what she’d been wanting for as long as she could remember.
“The bed.”
“Traditional,” he said before he spun the shower knobs to turn off the water. “But I’ll allow it.”
He dried off quickly, swiping her towel from her before she could finish drying herself. Water ran down her legs and back as his mouth collided with hers.
“I’m wet,” she breathed as he backed her toward the bed.
“I know,” he growled.
Then she was falling back onto the bed and he was over her, every inch of his yummy, muscled body blanketing hers. They’d warmed up quickly in the shower after skinny-dipping. She’d noticed his um, member, had recovered nicely. She palmed his thick erection, enjoying both heft and length.
He sucked a breath through his teeth.
“Condoms are in the nightstand.” He kissed her long and slow. “Unless you want to do it bareback again.”
“Bareback is best,” she admitted. “I trust you.”
“I trust you, too.”
She felt safe with him, but knowing he felt safe with her bolstered her confidence.
He placed a kiss on each of her breasts and positioned himself between her legs. Beneath him, she marveled at his delicious male form. How many times had she averted her gaze or turned her attention elsewhere over the years, not wanting him to know she’d been watching him? What a waste. There was so much of him to admire, and she could have been admiring him openly.
One smooth tilt of his hips and he was sliding deep. She guided him, her heels digging into his very fine ass, her head thrown back in ecstasy. His mouth landed on her neck, where he suckled her pulse and began to move. She took him easily, primed and ready thanks to the intimate kisses in the shower.
Thiswas great sex. The other night hadn’t been a fluke—which she’d known, of course. Sex this good was why sonnets were written and why love songs were crooned. She imagined sex this good was also why breakups hurt like physical wounds, why exes got back together. Interesting how sex could cause either undying devotion or irreparable devastation.
