Because when I let go of her hair, her hands dig into my thighs and she holds me down the back of her throat. Goddamn.
It’s too much. Too raw. Too carnal. With a pained groan, I close my eyes so I don’t explode like a geyser.
As gently as I can, I pull her off and run my thumb along her swollen lips. “You okay? I didn’t mean to be so rough.”
She blinks, sending droplets of water to her cheeks, and nods slowly, but I can see the worry in her eyes when she quietly asks, “Did you… did you not like it?”
Leaning down, I pick her up, needing to feel her against me. “Fucking loved every moment of it.” Which I underscore with a ravenous kiss. “But I don’t want to end this with the world’s best blow job.”
Her airy laugh fills the room as I stalk out of the shower, reaching into the cabinet and fumbling with the condoms until I have one in hand. All the while she clings to me. Naked and pliant and so fucking exquisite, she steals the breath right out of my lungs.
The cold air makes her nipples tighten, and I can barely focus on putting one foot in front of the other to get us back under the warm jets. The moment I do, she wiggles out of my arms, plucks the condom from my hand, and rips it open with her teeth. A second later, she reaches between us to roll it on.
Perfect fucking woman.
I scoop her up again, two seconds from spearing her on my cock, but manners.
“Can you take me like this?” Not trying to brag, but I’m a big guy, and she’s, what, five foot three? Maybe?
But she’s nodding and kissing me and telling me to hurry and when my fingers sink into her warm center from behind, finding her even wetter than when she came against my mouth, I can’t hold back any longer.
Leaning her back against the tile, with one hand on her curvy ass and one hand on my length, I prod against her opening. It takes a second to work my way in, the torturously erotic strain of it all making me throb harder.
Her eyes flutter closed and her mouth parts in a moan that tells me this feels as good for her as it does for me. Seeing her like this, thighs parted on mine, breasts heaving, nipples tight, it almost does me in.
“Tori, baby,” I groan into her hair, blissed-out of my mind to be with her like this. “You’re so beautiful. You feel so fucking good.” It’s been a long time since I’ve been with anyone. My whole body sizzles in expectation of delving deeper.
Her legs tighten around me, but then she hooks her feet against my thighs so she can lift herself, just an inch, before she settles down again, and I have to watch every mesmerizing second. Watch where we connect. Watch how she swallows me up. How she squirms and moans and shivers in my arms as she sinks lower.
I grab her ass with both hands to help her. Then we’re kissing, and she’s yanking on my hair, and I’m so goddamn deep I bottom out with a grunt.
And though my balls are tight and I’m really fucking close to coming, a gentleman always puts a lady first.
With her thighs plastered to mine and her wetness coating my cock, I snake a hand between us to rub that sweet nub until she’s bucking and crying out. Until she’s pulsing on me and grinding down so hard, I explode too, emptying into her with such force, I have to wrap my arms around her and lean against the wall so we don’t collapse to the ground.
Has it ever been that good before?
We shudder on each other, aftershocks working their way through our connected bodies. Like fault lines after an earthquake, the ground shifts, the scenery rearranges, but the pieces fit back together.
In this case, the aftermath is better because Tori is in my arms, blinking up at me with heat and sweetness in her eyes.
Maybe she’s what I’ve needed all along.
I dry her off and wrap her in a huge towel, while those drowsy hazel eyes stare up at me.
This—her, me, us—this feels right, and I’m smiling like a fool when I toss on a pair of boxers to check on the kids, who are still asleep.
Breathing a sigh of relief that my kids are conked out, I turn in the hall and nearly bump into Tori, who’s now wrapped in her thin pink robe. I take my time admiring her long lean legs and the way the robe drapes over her hips and breasts, ignoring the twitch in my groin.
“Where you going?” I whisper.
Because it looks like she’s headed to her room.
Her soft voice is so low, I have to strain to hear her. “Thought you’d want to get to bed. Want your space. I know you have to get up early.”
I almost laugh. With my lips grazing her ear, I ask, “Is that really what you want? To sleep in your room? If it is, that’s fine, but I’d rather have you in my bed.”
She smiles against my shoulder. “Yeah?”
I pull back just far enough to look her in the eye. “Sweetness, you’re mine now, right?”
That smile tugs up further. “Yes.”
“And what happened back there…” I hook my thumb over my shoulder. “That wasn’t a late-night booty call. That was us taking the next step, which means I definitely want you in my bed.”
Every.
Damn.
Night.
Tori
Goosebumps line my skin even though I’m not cold. How can I be cold? Ethan’s naked body is wrapped around me—arm slung over my hips, face nuzzled against my breasts.
I stare down at his huge form nestled around me and grin.
He called me his woman.
Yeah, I’m still thinking about that, hours later in the dark.
A wave of euphoria washes over me as I let myself relish being with him like this.
In my head, I’m ticking off all the boxes…
He’s self-employed and smart and ridiculously handsome.
He adores his kids and treats his momma well.
He likes my cooking and makes me laugh.
Not to mention, he’s a rock star when it comes to sex.
Who comes twice the first time they sleep with a man? No one I know. Most of my friends fake it, go home, and ride the vibe alone.
That silly saying comes to mind: Save a horse. Ride a cowboy.
I am so down with this.
I’m blushing when I think of his obscenely large but magnificent package.
And he wields it well, as the steady ache between my thighs indicates.
Then he cuddled me, whispering sweet words and stroking my back until I passed out.
Holy fucking boyfriend lottery.
He didn’t even make me feel like an idiot for freaking out over that spider. I should’ve been embarrassed. Screaming and flailing around naked and looking like a fool. But he was so considerate and gentle, I want to cry about it now.
Here I was, thinking my sister had found the husband of the century, and I’d be shit out of luck. Yes, cognitively, I realize that luck is not preordained. It isn’t meted out at birth like tickets to a carnival ride. Ten for you and none for you, you little loser.
But if love makes you stronger, helps you feel optimistic and hopeful, pain is dysmorphic, magnifying your weaknesses and pointing out your faults. And last year was so gut-wrenching, so insistent on reminding me that I was a big, fat dumbass who failed out of college and dated other big, fat dumbasses, and I couldn’t help but wonder if my sister had been born with all the lucky genes.
It’s probably the residual hormones from those orgasms making me high—I mean, hello, I had two!—but I haven’t felt this at peace with myself in a while.