Chapter Twenty-Seven
Water pounds into the bathtub. It drowns out the thump in my chest. The irregular beats of possibility and resistance fight for control. But Paul’s hand smooths down my back. The touch is soft. Reverent. Everything the steel in his pants isn’t. And it reminds me that he, too, is only hard on the outside.
I grip the side of the tub and push my ass higher, grazing his erection. Paul hisses but doesn’t move. My teeth bite off a grin as I wiggle my hips from side to side. I drag myself against him achingly slow before pushing back hard. He circles my waist with an arm, holding our hips together and cupping my center in his hand. We stand still. His cock grows harder against my ass. Heat spreads through my core. I close my eyes against the rising temperature in my body, but there’s no way to block out the tug low in my belly. To deny the desire that’s building by sharing a clothed touch. That builds just by sharing the same air.
Paul pulls me upright and pushes my hair over one shoulder. He presses kisses down my neck and tugs at the back of my shirt, lingering on the once-hidden skin. I step out from in front of him and put some space between us, but it does nothing to dampen the steady pulse of Paul’s name in my veins. Our eyes meet and I reach for the hem of my shirt. He braces his hand on the wall and licks his lips.
With one move, my hike-dusted top is up and off. His eyes darken with hunger when I unclasp my bra and let it fall to the ground. My nipples pebble under his gaze and I press my fingertips onto the countertop to steady myself. I swallow hard. “Your turn.”
His gaze sweeps over my skin before our eyes lock. He pushes each shirt button through its hole. The simple task takes him longer and longer as he works his way down. He struggles with the last button and I drop my eyes to his fumbling fingers. His untucked shirt does nothing to hide the shape of him straining at his zipper. Paul rips the last button out and lets his shirt fall. His work-toned arms and chest shudder with his shallow breathing.
My fingers relax on the counter and I open my shorts with trembling fingers. Eyes glued to him, I shimmy my way out of the denim. I kick them to the side and run a thumb under the elastic waist of my thong. The thunder of water into the tub is lost under the pounding in my ears when he plants his hand on the wall and groans as he guides his zipper down, dragging it over the bulge in his pants. His cock is held tight in boxer-briefs, a wet mark spreading from its tip.
I lick my lips. “Paul?”
His hand fists on the wall.
My fingers dip into my panties and find my own wetness. I trail my arousal up my body. “You do this to me.” His eyes flash and I pull my fingers higher, tracing a circle around my nipple. “Without even touching me.”
His jaw sets and my skin burns under his gaze.
“And I know why.”
“Why?” His voice is hoarse.
“Because I want you. With every cell of my being.” He crosses to me in one step and digs his fingers into my hips. His cock throbs against my stomach and I press my hand to his cheek. “Every. Single. One.”
His lips crash down on mine and I open for him, tangling my tongue with his, pushing and pulling, and devouring this man whose body I want. Whose soul I crave. The counter cuts into my lower back and I push forward. His shoulders hit the wall and our mouths jar, but stay together, frantic in their need to share breath and life and need. I hitch a leg onto the side of the tub, opening every part of me to him. He catches my moan in his mouth when his fingers find my slit, tracing it over my panties, and I reach for his cock, diving into his boxers and wrapping the pulsing steel in a tight fist.
Our kiss breaks as his mouth falls open. “Fuck, Amy,” he breathes. I pass my thumb over his dripping head and he growls into my ear.
His fingers shove my panties aside and plunge deep inside me. My breath catches and my forehead falls onto his chest. He circles his fingers in my softness and my tongue darts out, desperate for contact and finding a tight nipple. I flick it with the tip of my tongue and he hisses, ramming his fingers deeper. His hand hits my clit with each deep thrust and I cling to his cock for balance.
“Paul,” I moan. I rise onto my toes. “I need... I want...”
“Me too, baby.” He pulls his hand from me and shuts off the water.
I push my panties down and my pussy glistens with need.
His dick jumps when he sees me, naked and dripping for him. Paul strips off his boxers and his cock springs free. Hard. Red. He twists a fist around his shaft, bathing it in the juices he drained from me. I surge forward and he catches me with a hand on either side of my face. He kisses me deep and walks me backward, moving us out of the bathroom, down the hall. Our lips never part, our hands rub and grab sensitized skin until the bed presses into my thighs and I fall back, pulling him on top of me.
My breath comes in pants as his hands trace up and down my sides and his mouth tastes and licks with abandon. “Paul,” I gasp. “Oh god. I want you.”
“How much?” He wraps his lips around my nipple and sucks deep, moaning his pleasure onto my tender flesh. The vibrations rocket through me and stoke the burning between my legs.
I roll him onto his back and straddle his hard-on. His length slips between my lips and I rock on my hands and knees, spreading my need over his. He wraps a hand around the back of my neck and pulls our mouths together. Our tongues tangle and he pinches a nipple, rolling it between his fingers. The room disappears under his touch. The bed is gone. All that’s left is feeling. My clit burning against his flesh. My nipple straining into his fingers.
My chest tightening with more than lust.
I grind hard against him and slip forward. He hisses in a breath when the head of his penis falls against my opening. My knees shake with the effort of not backing up. Not sinking him into me, flesh against flesh, his juices mixing with mine. “Condom.” My knees wobble and I sink back, his heat begs at my entrance and my body rocks without direction, taking him in a fraction of an inch. “Jesus fuck,” I pant. “Condom. Now.”
His hands grip my thighs. His chest rises and falls with uneven breaths. “Clean? Pill?”
“Yes,” I gasp. “Yes.”
“Then we can—” His words are drowned out by my cry of absolute fucking ecstasy as I push back and take him in, stretching my inner muscles around his solid heat.
He buries his fingers in my hair and slams his mouth against mine as I rock against his pelvis, sliding him in and out slowly, building speed with each graze of my clit against the root of his cock. I bring my legs together and hold my body straight, moving myself on my elbows, keeping constant contact between my sensitive bud and the friction between Paul and me. The friction that’s him and me and the inferno of us together.
Paul grabs my ass and urges me back and forth. He pushes his hips into mine and rocks me up and down his cock. I lick and suck the beading sweat from his neck and he slides into me, against me, through me until my legs clamp together and my mouth falls open in a silent scream. My inner muscles tighten, one by one, pulling him deep. He stills inside me and I buck against him, desperate. He pulls me up, rubbing my throbbing bud up his body and blinding me with pleasure, but emptying me of him. “No,” I beg. “Stay.”
In one move, he sheaths himself to the hilt and I come apart, clenching around him, bucking and rolling every second of delirium out of my body, keeping him deep. His hands tighten on my ass and he holds me close, shouting his release into my hair.
We stay connected as our breathing slows. As our heartbeats return to normal. As our fingers trace each other’s skin and our lips meet in easy kisses.
He tucks my hair behind my ear. “We should probably get up.”
I press my lips to his palm and break into a grin. “Race you to the bath.”
Our bodies disconnect and I sprint to the bathroom, my thighs slick with our pleasure. He gains on me and wraps his arms around my middle, pulling me back and running past me.
My laughter pounds off the walls and hits me hard. The floating weightlessness in my giggles brings a leaden weight I’d buried under work. Under control. Plans. Precision. I stop short, suspended between the euphoria of flying and the rock I know is below.
Paul slips into the tub and holds out his hand. “Come on. Water’s perfect.”
My fingers glide between his and I nestle between his legs, my back to his front. My face to the wall. Where he can’t see my muscles slacken. My grin fall away.
I nuzzle into him. Grip his hand in mine. And brace for the pain to come.