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“You begging, love?”
“You bet your dirty British ass I’m begging.”
He cups my ass, pulls it from the wall, then slaps the wet skin. The sharp noise rings out through the room, but all I know is that his hands are curving my thighs and lifting me, settling my legs around his waist, and his cock is nudging my entrance.
I tilt my hips forward and take him inside me. He fills me with a swift thrust and I moan, his hard cock red hot against my sensitive folds.
“This what you want?” he whispers against my neck.
“Exactly this,” I reply, grabbing his hair the best I can and opening myself to him.
His hands are on my ass, holding me steady as he fucks me. And he fucks me harshly, relentlessly, pounding into me until my heartbeat matches the pace of his thrusts. Until I only know the steady beat of our bodies syncing perfectly.
Until our hearts, our breaths, our thrusts match to the ninth degree.
Until we come together for the first time, our releases a mixture of names and cries and sighs. Of clenches and thrusts and grips.
Until he slowly lowers me to the floor, pulling himself out of me, and holds me to his chest.
I rest my cheek against his chest and wave my arms awkwardly. He laughs loudly and tugs the panties from my wrists.
“Thank you,” I murmur, wrapping my now-free arms around his waist.
“Any time,” he replies, his arms creating a safe and comforting cocoon around my body.
We stand beneath the spray of water until my legs stop trembling. Tyler reaches for the soap and runs his hands over my body, caressing my breasts lovingly and massaging my back. He kneels when his hands curve over my behind so he can do my legs.
I watch him with a smile, amazed at how he can switch his demeanor so quickly. Minutes ago, he was fucking me like our lives depended on it, and now, he’s touching my body like I’m a goddess worthy of worship.
I reach up and kiss him when he stands and grab the soap myself. I wash him down, running my fingers over the ridges of his abdomen and the tightness of his backside and thighs. Over the broad shoulders that eclipse me and the arms that hold me so steadily.
When step under the spray together, I scrunch my face up at the onslaught of water. He laughs, grabbing shampoo and attempting to wash my hair beneath the spray. I shake my head repeatedly. I’m not opening my damn eyes with shampoo washing down my face.
He finally gives up, and after a moment longer of standing under the water, presumably to wash all the shampoo off me, he pulls me out.
“Shit! Towels!” he snaps.
I finally open my eyes and laugh. “I think I’m rubbing off on you!”
He comes back into the room, dripping wet and still totally naked, and wraps me in a large, warm towel. “Then we’re all fucked.”
I smile and snuggle into the towel. Hot. Fluffy. Soft. Mmmm.
If he gets you towels straight from the dryer, he’s a keeper.
I follow him into my room, my eyes fixated on his butt as he walks. Holy crap, he has a nice butt. Especially when there are water droplets running over it.
Hello.
“You’re staring at my bum again, aren’t you?”
I look up and grin, unashamed. “It’s a nice bum.”
His expression matches mine. “Come here.” He grabs the towel from me, dries himself, then sits me on the bed. He climbs up behind me and covers my head with the towel.
I laugh as he rubs my head playfully, getting most of the wetness out of my hair. He grabs my brush from the floor and runs it through the wet locks before bringing the towel up again.
He repeats this three or so times and I giggle my way through it. When he’s finally satisfied that my hair is dry enough, he yanks the covers from beneath us and throws me back for a second time tonight.
