Page 48 of Detroit


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My legs fell open, giving him more access as my free hand grabbed his arm, fingers digging in as he drove me up.

There was something so intuitive about his touch, like we’d been doing this for years, as if he knew the exact pressure and pace that my body was craving, and when to apply more and go faster.

He got me closer faster than I probably even could.

His free hand moved out, slipping under the water too, closer over my breast. It was completely swallowed up by his massive palm. His fingers curled inward, squeezing with just the right pressure, then releasing to tease my nipple until it was hard and straining, before moving across my chest to continue the sweet torment.

His hand between my thighs shifted, two fingers slipping inside of me as his thumb continued to stroke over my clit.

My walls squeezed around his fingers tight, making a groaning sound escape him before his fingers started to thrust. Slow for a moment, then fast and insistent, driving me up, demanding the release that felt like it was clawing its way through me. Painful and pleasurable somehow at the same time.

Then, just like that, my walls were squeezing his fingers as the waves crashed through me, hard and almost violent, making a cry escape me as he continued to stroke and thrust, dragging it out until my body was shaking and my fingers digging crescents into the skin of his forearm.

He wasn’t done with me, though.

Because as soon as the pulsations stopped, his arms were grabbing me, pulling me up out of the water. His strong hands kept moving me until I had my knees up on the wide brim of the tub, a little unsteady if not for his arm that went around my lower back, holding me there as his hand moved between my thighs again.

His fingers didn’t go right for my clit, somehow knowing it was too sensitive right then, so stroking around it instead.

His head dipped suddenly, sucking one of my nipples into his mouth. The sensation of the cool of being out of the water and his warm mouth on me sending a shiver down my spine as I arched into his mouth, as my hands went around the back of his head, holding him to my chest as he slowly started to drive me up once again.

It wasn’t long until my own hands felt curious, greedy for the feel of him.

They left his head to trail down, moving over his strong shoulders, chest, back, but unable to explore lower, given my position.

Impatient, I shifted, dropping my butt down on the edge of the tub instead, keeping my legs spread wide for him as he worked his magic, taking me from one orgasm, and working me toward another.

But my hands were finally free to explore him now, too. So they did, moving under the material of his shirt, feeling his hot skin, and the bulges and indents of his muscles that I’d been spying on in his room not long before.

My head dipped inward, lips teasing over the skin of his neck. There was a catch in his breath at the contact, and that small reaction bolstered my confidence.

My hands explored lower, over those deep indents of abdominal muscles, into the dips of his Adonis Belt. Then teasing across the waistband of his pants.

A small shudder coursed through him, and there was no more uncertainty.

My hands clawed at his button and zipper, desperate to get them down, to reach inside his pants and boxer briefs, and close my hand around the long, thick length of him.

A hiss escaped him as my hand closed around his cock and my hand was still for a moment, marveling at how my fingers couldn’t quite close around him. Maybe my hands were small. But there was no denying that his cock was huge, either.

Almost as if sensing my thoughts of how he would feel inside of me, his fingers slipped inside, and my walls clenched around them, aching for more fulfillment.

My hand started to work him then, stroking him from head to hilt, and it was like his fingers fell into motion with them, working me how I was working him.

My little whimpers became moans that I muffled with my lips to his neck. His reaction was just catches of breath at first, then a deep, rumbling sound in his chest.

As my hand stroked him faster, his fingers worked me faster as well. Until we were both breathless and lost in the sensations, in the need for release.

Until the orgasm crashed through me, leaving me crying out against his skin, my body shuddering hard.

I was still present of mind enough to keep working him through it.

But the sound of a voice made us both freeze.

Close.

Too close.

“Detroit, where the fuck are you?” Slash called. “Coach is waiting.”

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