He’s so sure, so comfortable there, like he could spend his whole life pleasing me and never grow tired of it.
I, on the other hand, am desperate to do some pleasing of my own.
“Greg,” I whisper, and when he looks up at me, I gently tug on his elbows, urging him to stand.
He does so slowly, kissing every inch of the way back up, and then his mouth claims mine, and I taste the sweetest mixture of me and him on his tongue.
“I want you,” I whimper into his mouth.
He swallows the sound, grabbing me around the waist and blindly backing us up to the shower. One hand reaches behind me to turn on the faucet while the other holds me steady, and then his hands are in my hair, tugging, my chin coming up so he has better access to kiss me breathless.
He pauses, his eyes finding mine, breath erratic as he shakes his head.
“I need you.”
It’s like the words are a touch of their own, the weight of them slipping between the cracks of my soul and filling every single one. I nod, swallowing, and then I kiss him, hard and deep.
I reach for the band of his briefs, tugging at them before Greg helps me pull them the rest of the way down.
And then he’s standing there in front of me, completely bare, his cock hard and thick and lined with veins, the crown of it slick with pre-cum.
I gulp, staring, not knowing what to do, questioning if I’ll be good enough for him, if I’ll be able to please him the way he’s already pleased me.
Greg wraps one large hand around his shaft, squeezing, his fist running a gentle pump from crown to base with his eyes hooded and locked on my body.
My body.
He could have any girl he wants, that much I know for sure.
But he wants me.
That sews confidence into every fabric of insecurity I have, and I step into him, capturing his open mouth with my own as I reach down between us. I wrap my hand around his, letting him guide me, and then he takes his away, and I feel him for the first time.
We both moan, Greg pressing his forehead to mine so he can look down at where I grab him. Slowly, gently, I rub him, just like he was touching himself, and I squeeze a little firmer each time.
Then, in a move so confident I don’t know where it came from, I remove my hand, reach between my legs to slick my fingers between my wet lips, and then coat him in it.
Greg curses as I stroke him again, this time lubricating him with my own desire, and then he slings the shower curtain back and hauls me up and over the tub’s edge. He barely shuts the curtain behind him before he’s on me again, my back against the cool tile, hot water streaming down over every inch of us, and his mouth making love to mine.
He kisses me like a man would kiss that first taste of sin, like it pains him as much as it pleases him, like I’m his Kryptonite and his saving grace, and he can’t decide if I’ll save him or destroy everything he’s ever been.
“Amanda,” he breathes, water rolling off his hair, his nose, his lips, as he presses his forehead to mine. His hands grip my waist hard enough to bruise, and he swallows, shaking his head.
He doesn’t say another word, but he doesn’t have to. I get it. I understand.
I feel the same.
He’s just it for me.
As fucked up and inconvenient as it is, he’s the one my heart wants, the one my body craves, the one who sees the me no one else ever has.
And I know I’m it for him, too.
Thinking about it too much would make us stop. We’d find a way to reason our way out of it, to spout the laundry list of reasons why this is a bad idea, why it will never work out.
So, Greg kisses me before the thoughts can creep in, his hand slipping down my stomach along with the streaming hot water.
Those meticulous fingers skate over my clit, rubbing it softly as I mewl into his mouth, and then he slips his middle finger between my lips, his fingertip pressing into my entrance.
I curl my hips, seeking more, and he answers with a gentle thrust inside.
A gasp of a breath leaves me, and he kisses me silent, withdrawing his finger before plunging it in again, deeper this time.
Over and over, again and again, his palm rubbing against my clit with each new thrust, Greg works me and opens me and drives me wild until I’m begging him for more.
For him.
I break our kiss long enough to spin, my hands finding the cold tile, and I tilt my ass up and out, looking over my shoulder and through my wet lashes up at him.
He bites his lip, shaking his head as he appreciates the new view. One hand wraps around his shaft, pulsing, as the other draws a soft, slow line down my spine and over my ass. He groans at the feel of it, and then winds up and gives my right ass cheek a little smack that echoes in the shower and makes me whimper for another taste.
“Greg,” I plead.
He groans, blowing out a breath. “Condom.”
I almost collapse, a whine so juvenile coming out of me that it makes Greg chuckle, one eyebrow lifting as he eyes me.
“I had my tubes tied years ago, and I’m clean. I know you are, too. Please,” I beg, rubbing my ass along his shaft. “I want you. Just you. I want to feel every inch.”
GREG
I groan out a curse, long and heavy as my next breath. As if she wasn’t already my undoing, as if holding her naked breast in my palm and tasting her sweetness on my tongue hadn’t driven me to my edge, she had to go and say those words.
“I want to feel every inch.”
Her golden eyes toy with me beneath her long lashes, her ass round and wet and fucking perfect, her pussy slicked and begging for me.
And I can’t resist.
I can’t deny her, and maybe I’ve known that for longer than I realize. She could ask me for anything, for everything, and I’d give it to her.
I reach for her, hand in the crease where her hip meets her thigh as I pull her toward me, and she arches at the demand. I line myself up at her entrance, bringing both hands to her hips then, and I slowly, excruciatingly slowly, thrust my cock inside her.
Every centimeter blazes a fire in us both, and we hiss and gasp and moan as I fill her all the way to the brim. Amanda’s cheek is against the tile, her mouth parted in a longing sigh, hands gripping the tile as best she can as I withdraw and flex in again.
“Oh, my God, Greg,” she cries, reaching back for me. “Holy shh—”
I grab her wrists, holding her arms behind her back as I slide out and back in, over and over, my pace quickening. Her hands wrap around my wrists in return, holding on for dear life as I pound her from behind. My thighs smack against her ass, and I watch my cock disappearing into her tight pussy with a guttural groan on my lips.
“You feel so fucking good,” I lean in and breathe against the shell of her ear, sucking the lobe between my teeth.
She moans, arching even more, and I release her wrists to wrap my arms full around her and hold her close, slowing my pace.
I kiss her neck, biting and sucking the skin as I flex in harder and deeper, slower, making sure she gets her wish to feel every fucking inch of me.
“Yes, yes, right there. Yes,” she moans, and with that announcement, I reach around her and between her legs, seeking the hood of her clit.
Going down on her, while enjoyable for both of us, was also a bit of research. I wanted to know what makes her legs shake, what drives her close to her climax, what buttons to push to get her free-falling through a universe of stars.