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He lifts my shirt over my head, backing me against the shower door. I undo his jeans and pull his shirt off, my mouth watering when I see how hard he is.
He groans. “I can’t take it when you look at me like that.”
I’m stripped down within seconds and trying to get his briefs over his raging erection, which is easier said than done when he keeps touching me like this. He pauses to open the door and turn the water on, and I manage to get his underwear off, his thick, long hardness jutting against his stomach. It never fails to mesmerize me.
But then his hands cup my breasts as he leans down and tugs my nipple between his teeth, and I gasp and struggle to keep my eyes open.
When he gets on his knees and swipes his tongue over my slit, I lose the battle.
The feeling is indescribable, and my head falls back as I hold onto his hair. It takes me back to the time his mouth was on me like this in the back of his truck. We’d driven into the mountains and hiked for a while before going swimming near a waterfall, and before we put our clothes back on, he’d lifted me onto the blanket he kept in the back of his truck and spread my legs wide. His tongue had been on me before I even knew what was happening.
I’d been lost in the sensation, hands fisted in his hair just like they are now, when I felt eyes on me.
A giggle bursts out of me and his tongue pauses. My eyes fly open, my hips arching toward him, and I look down at him staring up at me.
“What?” he says, grinning.
His lips are glossy from me, and I rub my finger over his bottom lip, the water from the shower hitting more of me than it is him.
“I was just thinking about the armadillo watching you do this to me.”
His forehead falls against my stomach, his warm breath skating over my sensitive skin as he laughs.
“Fucking voyeur,” he says.
He dips two fingers inside of me as he lifts his head up, his mouth parted, eyes hooded as I go breathless again.
“Did you like being watched?” he asks, his voice raspy.
“It was…a little disconcerting,” I manage to get out. “He never blinked.”
His laugh hits me in just the right spot again, right before he flicks his tongue where I want him most. Once, twice, three times, he teases me.
“Ugly fucker stayed for the whole show,” he says, his eyes lifting to mine again as his tongue goes back to those flicks.
“He would’ve been called a Texas speed bump at the ranch,” I pant.
A shadow crosses his eyes, and his tongue pauses again. I feel vulnerable during those seconds.
“I don’t know why I keep talking,” I whisper.
When his tongue starts moving again, his fingers thrust into me at the same time, and I couldn’t say anything else if I tried. He touches me with an urgency that wasn’t there before, and my legs go weak, my nerve endings so alive they can’t be trusted to keep me upright. His fingers grip my ass and the fingers from his other hand are buried as deep inside of me as they can go, his hands and tongue tethering me to the ground while also simultaneously causing me to combust.
“Theo.”
His name is a prayer.
An exaltation.
A reverent extension of my heart.
As my contractions slow around his fingers, he stands up and dunks his face in the stream of water coming from the showerhead closest to him. And then he holds onto my hip and lines up against my entrance for only a moment before he sinks in deep. His lips crash into mine and the next few minutes are a torrent of sensation and ecstasy.
I can’t believe this is my life.
When we finally come up for air and are out of the shower, facing each other in his bed, our hands roam over each other while our gaze stays focused. His eyes on mine, a quiet stillness between us after the fevered passion.
I don’t want to break the spell by talking, but something broke in me, being around his family today. It was like old times and yet so different. I don’t want to go back to the past, but I don’t think I’ll fully be free of it until I do.
