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“Fuck,” he breathes out against the hollow of my neck.
But he doesn’t even pause as he steps out of his pants and boxers and carries me to the bathroom while he’s still inside me. He removes my gloves and my bra, throwing them behind him. My hands are bloodied, but Adrian doesn’t look at them with disgust, more like with pride.
I’m proud of you, he said.
You’re my home,he also said.
Am I still over the moon because of the orgasm or is this something entirely different?
He puts me on my feet, and I’m a bit unsteady, so he keeps a hand on my arm as he eases out of me. I shiver at the loss of him, then my eyes droop when his cum trickles down my legs.
Jesus.Is that supposed to be a turn-on?
Adrian watches the evidence of his thorough fucking as he shrugs off his shirt, revealing his hard muscles and the ethereal ink decorating his arms.
I want to touch them, to hold him, but it always feels like it’s not my place to do that. Like I have absolutely no claim on him to be able to study his tattoos.
Adrian hits the button and the water soaks us in a second. He slowly rubs the blood off my hands and uses a brush to remove it from under my nails. Then he moves on to my face, my neck, and my arms.
I’m about to melt from the way he touches me. The care in his eyes. The softness that doesn’t suit his character that he shows only to me.
When he’s done, he wraps his arms around my waist and lifts me up, digging his fingertips into my ass. Then he rams inside me in one ruthless stroke.
I come. Just like that.
I wasn’t even that aroused, but I think the way he washed me was so stimulating that all he had to do was enter me for me to orgasm.
It’s not even the physical stimulation, it’s the meaning behind it, the tenderness, the concern in his gray eyes that he’s only ever dedicated to me.
I don’t bother to muffle my moans, my screams, and my utter joy as he fucks me under the shower. I hold onto him with both hands, not wanting to let him go.
Not now, not ever.
He doesn’t stop fucking me, owning me, changing position every so often. His hands are everywhere, cupping my breasts, pinching my nipples, pulling my hair so he can nibble on a sensitive spot on my throat. He kisses me, then bites my tongue. He sucks on my nipple, then tugs on it. He powers into me slowly, then takes it to an irregular, maddening level.
It’s like he can’t get enough of me and wants to deepen our connection with each touch. He fucks like he talks, with apparent calm yet subtle darkness.
I’m so stimulated, I feel like one orgasm keeps bleeding into the other.
My front is now against the transparent shower stall as he powers into me from behind while caging both of my wrists in one hand on the glass above me.
My mouth is open in an ‘O’ as I take every delicious thrust and every sting of pain that comes with it.
“Ahhh…Adrian…I’m coming…”
He increases his rhythm, pinching my nipples with his other hand until they’re sore and I scream in pain. “So sensitive.”
“Adrian!” I fall down without any landing. I keep falling and rolling, finding a pause just so I can fall again.
If I knew this was how it would feel, I would’ve let him hear my voice so he would’ve fucked me a long time ago.
Adrian still hasn’t come. If anything, my orgasm has made him grow harder inside me. His lips meet my ear as he whispers, “Thank you for welcoming me home.”
And then he comes inside me again. I close my eyes to memorize the sensation and his words.
Thank you for being my home, I’m about to whisper in response, but his head falls into the space between my neck and shoulder and he kisses the skin there. “Fuck, I missed you, Lia.”
My whole body goes slack against him. Everything that happened tonight. His worry, his unbound passion, and even the way he’s nibbling on my skin and slightly rocking his hips were never meant for me.
