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He raises his face upward and sighs. We’re all emotionally drained, and with the mood I’m in, I’m bound to pick a fight. But I can’t let this go before telling him how I feel.
“Well, I won’t turn my back on him. This isn’t forever. But you and me—” I gesture two fingers between us “—we are…well, I thought we were. But if we can’t get past this, then maybe forever comes with an expiration date. I’m going to bed.” I don’t wait for a reply because I don’t want one.
Marching down the hall, I decide to shower and wash this disgusting mood from my body. Once in the bathroom, I strip off and turn the faucet to hot. Although I’m in a rage, I can’t stop shaking, and the constant chill won’t thaw from my bones.
The water feels divine, tiny fingers kneading the knots from my tired muscles. I wish I could do the same for the knots within. Groaning, I place my hands on the tiles and stand beneath the spray. I overreacted, I know that, but I’m just so tired of feeling scared and exhausted all the time.
I want my normal back because when does this end?
I owe Saxon an apology. I had no right to take my frustrations out on him. All he’s ever done is stand by me, and all I seem to do is hurt him. Reaching for the vanilla soap, I lather up a foam and begin to wash away the sins tattooed on my skin.
The thought has images of Saxon naked and wet flashing before my eyes. The way I just behaved, I’ll be lucky if I see him in all his glory ever again. Cursing my foolishness under my breath, I continue washing, anxious to make peace with my man.
A thick, misty cloud of vanilla smelling goodness surrounds me in the shower, so when I feel the gentlest of touches against my back, I yelp, realizing I’m no longer alone.
“I’m trying my best.” My prayers have been answered because standing behind me is Saxon. His sincerity instantly extinguishes my anger, and I melt into his touch. “Weareforever, Lucy. I’m sorry for making you think we weren’t.” His naked body presses against mine, and the stars align. “Forgive me?”
My eyes droop to half-mast. “Only if you forgive me for being a stubborn dreamer.”
He wraps his arm low around my waist. “I love that about you. Always seeing the good in people. Makes me think there’s hope for me yet.”
“Don’t say that. Youaregood. That’s why I love you.” I arch into him, the feel of his length hardening against me too good to be true. I don’t even worry about my scars because with Saxon, I forget they’re there.
The warm spray bounces off my front, and with Saxon at my back, I can’t help the moan which slips past my lips. The sound seems to excite him because he hums low, softly nipping at the side of my throat.
His hardened chest is still crushed against me as he reaches for the soap and lathers my slick flesh with the suds. He massages his fingers along the slope of my neck, the delicious pressure beyond words. He pays the same attention to my upper chest before slipping downward and gently caressing my breasts.
The soapy bubbles make his hands slippery, which only seems to heighten my already aroused state. My nipples pebble, and he growls. Taking my breasts into his hands, he circles my right areola. “Oh, god,” I whimper, arching backward, unable to stop myself as I rub against his titan erection.
He hisses but continues the task at hand as he lathers his way down to my stomach. My skin is red hot. He runs loops over my flesh, gliding to my ribs, before swooping downward and washing low on my stomach, over my navel. He tracks his finger around the edges, biting my neck when I groan.
I am so turned on right now, but when he dips lower and soaps my mound, an untamed cry unites with the thrashing water. I spread my legs, an automatic response to having him so near my sex. He grunts in approval, stroking my entrance with three fingers.
The lubrication of the soap just adds to my own, and if he doesn’t do something more in the next five seconds, I just might die. He reads my desperation and licks away the spray gathering along the rise of my neck as he sinks one delicious finger into my heat.
I jolt—partly in shock, the other in need. While that feels incredible, I want more. I need more.
Reaching behind, I grasp his impressive girth and begin moving my hand. He’s hot, heavy, and my god, I want him all over me. He growls but never ceases his delectable intrusion below. He adds another finger, stretching, testing my limits, but I’m ready.
He’s everywhere. His mouth is on my pulse, suckling and nipping. His fingers are working me into a frenzy as he tunnels deeper, then thumbs over my needy center. With his right hand driving me into a fever, he uses his left to massage my breasts, flicking over my budding nipples. I’m going to explode.
“Saxon,” I cry, quivering. It’s almost too much.
He pays no heed to my demands. Instead, he increases the strokes, pumping his fingers with vigorous speed. Each cavernous stroke is the money shot, and I undulate, ready to come. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers against my throat.
“S-so are you,” I manage to push out between erratic breaths. “Now, please…fuck me.” God forgive me for such a dirty mouth, but I need to show him that good girls can also be bad. And right now, I want to be downright depraved.
He hisses, ripping his fingers from my heat before turning me around so quickly, I see stars. He lifts me up and slams my back against the wall. Our mouths frantically lock. He nudges my entrance, and I know what he’s asking. To answer his question, I lower my hips and sluggishly take him inside. Our lips break apart, a moan slipping from us both. Flesh upon flesh.
He doesn’t move an inch, allowing my muscles to accommodate his size. He searches my face, and my god, he is so exquisite. His wet hair appears a honeyed brown, and brushed back, it highlights his epic features. His lips are parted, heavy breaths caressing my cheeks.
He’s imbedded deep, and it feels beyond incredible. “I love you, little Lucy Tucker.” I don’t have a chance to reply because he bends forward and takes my mouth, finally moving his hips. I hold on tight because I know this isn’t going to be slow.
He places his hands low on my waist and drives upward, bouncing me on his lap. This angle hits all the right spots, and I scream. The sheer strength he displays to hold me up and still manage to drive into me over and over again is an aphrodisiac within itself.
I lock my legs around the small of his back and clench, relishing in the tight fit. “Oh, fuck,” Saxon groans, increasing the rhythm.
He is an absolute beast, and the noises slipping past his pink lips have the bundle of nerves uncoiling within. Unable to help myself, I peer down at where we’re joined and watch, utterly mesmerized as I witness us becoming one.
