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I break away from the softness of it and his lips go back to my neck. I don’t want gentle. Not from him. This is the laundry room, part two, and I’m not going to lose sight of that.
My impatient noises bring a smile against my neck, his hand cupping the side of my ass as his lips peel away from my skin. “Impressive bruise. What happened?”
“Slipped on some ice.” It doesn’t hurt anymore—I have enough cushion, something his hand takes advantage of as he palms me. I press back into him, closing my eyes as he thrusts his dick against my slippery skin. I need it inside me. Five minutes ago. Why is he talking about my bruise? We need to fuck and we need to fuck now. I don’t think anyone in my family will put waffles on hold to check in with either of us, but if we’re gone too long…“I’m not here for your conversation, Nic.”
His hand moves across my collarbone, drawing a shudder from me as he lightly covers my throat, his thumb under my chin tilting my head back so he can leave a trail of hot kisses from my temple to my jaw. “Got another use for my mouth, Jessie?” His other hand slips between my legs again as he thrusts against my ass.
“Kiss me,” I tell him. I’ll leave the where up to him.
Instead of kissing me or reaching for the condom he set on the soap, he turns me around. His lips rest against my forehead, his hands heavy on my shoulders. For a long moment, we stand still, the only sound the drumming of the shower.
This is it. He’s changing his mind. Asking for a kiss made this too real, and he’s remembering all the reasons this is a huge mistake.
I just want an orgasm, for fuck’s sake. I want to break the tension between us and feel some goddamn relief after twenty years of suppressed lust.
“Nic—”
He shoves his hands into my wet, tangled hair, tilting my face up so his hazy eyes hold me, soothing away the tightness in my chest. “Shh. I’m only here for your moans.”
Nothing could prepare me for the way he kisses me. Not the laundry room, not the snow fort, not that gentle kiss a minute ago. There’s nothing soft, nothing slow. Nic cranks it straight to an eleven, his usual reserve gone, replaced by something greedy and consuming, wholly unexpected but so good. I feel it in my toes when his fingers tighten in my hair, in the pulse between my legs, the sweet sting of my scalp when he tugs my head back to deepen this kiss.
There’s overpowering relief, too, as I give in to hunger, digging my nails into his back to pull him tight. I can’t get close enough, our wet bodies slipping against each other. He’s so hard and I want to touch every inch of him. Marvel in the grooves between muscles. Find out if he’s ticklish. Watch his abs tense under my fingers as I dip them lower. His body is amazing and I want to explore it.
But that’s not what this is. This is scratching an itch.
A sentiment he clearly doesn’t share. He keeps one hand buried in my hair at the back of my neck, holding me to him, but his other hand claims every inch of skin he can reach, setting me alight.
It’s strange how natural this feels, being with him. We fit and it’s terrifying if I think about it. Luckily, the haze of pure hormones inspired by the feel of his body against mine makes it pretty damn hard to think about anything beyond one solid, very hard fact:
I’m finally getting my hands on that dick.
The sound that comes from his throat when I reach between us and wrap my fingers around his length is everything. He repeats it when I give him one long, slow stroke, his hips thrusting in time when I do it again and again.
Nic tugs my lower lip between his teeth as he breaks off the kiss. His smile is wicked as he slips from my grasp. I forget to be disappointed at losing my plaything when his tongue swirls around my nipple and he draws it into his mouth, setting off an echoing pulse between my legs. My fingers slide into his wet hair, my body arching into him as he works me until I’m moaning before kissing his way down my stomach.
I know what’s coming when he kneels and hooks my left leg over his shoulder, but I still gasp, putting my hands against the wall when his mouth touches me, licking me and sucking me like a man starving, like he can’t get enough. The idea that he wants me this badly makes me so damn wet.
“Fuck, Nic.” My words have all the substance of the steam surrounding us. I lean forward into the wall, freeing one hand to wind my fingers through his wet hair.
His face grows slick against my thighs and my hips rock, seeking more. He slides a couple of fingers inside me, thrusting and curling, hitting the spot that makes my world come apart.
My legs give out as I come, the cry on my lips disappearing into a gasp. But Nic holds me up, driving me right up another peak. Or maybe it’s the same peak, but higher? Or I’m going to come forever. Again and again, because Nic wants me to and my body is with him on this until I can’t take anymore and beg him to stop. I’m not sure how I’m standing when he does. I rest my forehead against the cool tiles of the wall as I try to catch my breath. What the hell did he just do to me?
Can he do it again?
Is he going to walk away, like he did in the laundry room?
I turn toward him. “Nic, I—”
He holds his finger to my lips with a smile. “No conversation.”
Jerk. I bite him.
He pulls his finger free from my teeth, smacking my ass before reaching for the condom. “I want you to come for me again. On my cock. What do you need for that?”
“I need a few minutes.” I don’t want to wait. I don’t want to risk him changing his mind or deciding I’m not worth it again, but I’m still pulsing from my orgasm—the lightest touch will hurt like hell right now.
Nic puts the condom back and pulls me under the spray of the showerhead, kissing my forehead and banishing my fear. He touches me with careful but firm hands, tilting my head to trail kisses down my neck, pressing me closer, his hips moving ever so slightly, his dick rubbing against my stomach. His teeth sink with excruciating tenderness into the spot where my neck meets my shoulder. My moan brings his lips back to mine and after kissing me sweetly, he pulls back and stares into my eyes like he’s searching for something.
