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It’s been hours since the dance class, but still adrenaline rushes through my veins. I quickly strip off the dress, tossing it to the side, and run the shower on cool.
Light spills in through the windows. The lodge has several plants in here, vining ones that climb from high shelves across sections of the ceiling. It provides a calming atmosphere.
My underwear go next, a lace set, strapless bra, my breasts spilling out. With a shiver—not from the temperature—I step into the water and close my eyes.
“You have to shake this off,” I beg myself quietly. “You can’t handle another month and a half of this.”
With a groan, I lean against the wall and let my head drop back, the water spilling across my body sideways. It feels good, rivulets cooling my skin, streaming over my curves and into the dips. With my eyes still closed, I’m back in Harwinton, the little town we grew up in just hours from Boston.
Jenson’s room, smelling of boy. Painted dark blue, posters on the wall of bands I teased him for liking. But we’re not kids anymore. He’s on the bed, knees spread wide, gaze intent. Shoulders slumped in youth, hair tousled.
Are you coming to bed?
What I wouldn’t give to hear him say that again. Those summer nights we couldn’t get enough of each other. With his mom working the late shift at the hospital, it was easy to be alone. Easy to shuck our clothes off, practically gasping, groping at each other, kissing and tasting.
A whimper slips out of me. My hand has slipped down to my thigh without me realizing it, and I fight the urge to touch myself. Pulling it back, I push the hair out of my face. My eyes are still closed.
And then his fingers skate across my belly.
With a gasp, I grab his wrist. My eyes snap open and we’re almost face-to-face. Not quite; he still towers over me, the water streaming down his chest, beading in his chest hair.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, all business. Fingers flexing. My pussy throbs and I shake my head, letting his wrist go.
“No.”
Fully naked, Jenson bends toward me, shoulders hunched. He braces himself on the wall and with his free hand, slowly delves between my legs. His fingers part my slick folds and swirl. I’ve been wet for hours now after touching his body, dancing so close, and teasing myself with memories.
“Please.”
It comes out half begging, and he lets out a huff in response. Readjusting himself, he tugs me closer and two fingers slip inside easily. A crest of pleasure sweeps over me. This is all I’ve wanted. Him, touching me, his body arched over mine, his eyes watching as he pumps his fingers in and out, driving me higher.
I grip his shoulders tightly and try not to wriggle, but I want more. His cock is already hard. Bobbing between us, grazing my hip. I lick my lips and push him away.
Water soaks his hair as he frowns at me, but without a word, I drop to my knees. I grip his thighs for balance, my lips parting.
First, I ghost my hand across his balls. Just enough for them to tighten momentarily. Then I drag my tongue along the underside of his cock, tasting the saltiness of him, rubbing the pre-cum that leaks from the tip across my lips.
Jenson grunts and cups the back of my head. It’s surprisingly gentle. I take the head in my mouth and bob down, sucking slightly on the way up. Just enough to let the tippop, something I remember he loves.
“Fuck,” he groans in appreciation, and the vein in his cock bulges. I run a hand up his inner thigh and cup his balls, staring up at him, the water spraying off his shoulders. “Come here.”
It comes out as a growl and I stumble to stand quickly, happy to have him there to support my weak knees. I press closer to him, wanting him between my legs. But instead, Jenson turns me around and pulls my backside up against him.
He runs the soap over my body quickly. His hands course over everything, lingering at my breasts, lifting them, toying with my nipples. They’re stiff from the cool water and his attention, and I arch my back into his touch.
“Go wait on the bed.”
“What?”
He nudges me toward the door.
“I said, go wait on the bed.” He levels me with his gaze. “I’m going to clean up, and when I come out there, you better be ready for me.”
Wet heat pools between my legs. I step out of the shower, towel off quickly, and practically run to the bedroom.
When was the last time I was this turned on? I’m a mess, trying to get comfortable at first, and then trying to be sexy. The sound of the shower and my breathing is loud. Finally, I lie back with my hands beside me.
He wants me to be ready? I’m more than ready for him.
