We can’t have that…
I open the glass door, step carefully inside, set the sealed foil packet on the ledge beside the little bar of soap, and point to the showerhead. “Would you angle that a bit?” I ask.
He nods and reaches over my head. “Like this?”
The hot water hits the back wall of the shower, a little bit of the spray still keeping us warm and wet. I nod, grab a washcloth, drop it to the tile, and then I carefully kneel on it.
“Willow…” He groans as I line up my face with his cock.
My hair is wet and hanging around my shoulders in a waterlogged mess, but I don’t care.
Ben is beautiful. His thighs are dense with well-defined muscles, dark hair covering his strong calves, arms, and the divot between his tight pectorals.
He’s even got cute guy feet, which is saying something. I can’t remember hooking up with many men whose toes I noticed in a good way, but his are actually really, really cute.
I smile as I cup his balls in a hand. “This okay?” I ask, humming the question low in my throat.
“Fuck yeah.” His eyes are closed, and he looks like he needs something to hold on to, but the shower stall is huge.
“Shoulders,” I say, peeking up past the erection that is slowly coming back to life to catch his eyes. “You can lean on my shoulders if you need to.”
His throaty laugh is rich and deep, and it sends shivers along the fine hairs on my arm. “I don’t want to crush you,” he says. “Not while my balls are in your hand. I’ll stand here as long as you need me to, babe.”
I grin and lick my lips, then lower my face to his cock. I lick long, wet strokes along his shaft while I gently graze the underside of his balls with my fingertips.
“Fuck… Willow…” My name is silk on his lips as the hot water runs in little rivulets through his chest hair.
I suck him into my mouth, swirling my tongue. When I feel him go completely hard, I point toward the condom.
But Ben’s oblivious, his eyes closed, his lips lightly parted. So, I gently slip my mouth away from his dick, and that gets his attention immediately.
“Condom?” I ask.
“Fuck yes. Sorry. Shit, that felt good.” He reaches for it, but then he reaches a hand out to me. “Come here,” he says. Hegrabs my hand in the one that isn’t gripping the condom and tugs me to standing. He lowers his face to mine and brushes his lips over mine. “Have you ever had good shower sex?”
I breathe in the warmth of his face, nuzzle my nose against his damp skin and slightly stubbled cheeks. “Hmmm… No, actually.”
He wraps his hands around my waist, the condom tucked between two fingers. “Move someplace dry?”
I lift my mouth to his and cup his face, pulling him close for a kiss. He flicks my upper lip with his tongue, and I open to a deep, searing kiss. A kiss that brings my hips tight against his, the heat of his erection pressed flat against my belly. I moan low in my throat, a rush of electricity buzzing from my lips to my core. “Dry,” I agree, meaning where I want to go—and not me. Because this man has me wet and aching.
He switches off the faucet, and I grab my fluffy towel, then hand him a clean, folded one from under the sink. We dry off quickly, and I’m shocked by how comfortable and easy this is.
He shakes his wet hair like a dog after a rainy walk, and I rub my long, wet strands between the ends of my towel so they don’t drip.
We’re on top of the bed, towels on the floor, seconds later. I’m on my back, and Ben is on top of me, kissing my collarbone and running his hands along the muscles of my thighs.
“Willow.” He breathes my name against my bare, still-damp skin. “What do you like?” He lowers his mouth to my breast and flicks his tongue against my nipple. “This?” he asks, his voice low and raspy, just before he clamps his teeth lightly around my incredibly sensitive peak.
My hips buck slightly, and I suck in a breath as sparks shoot from my breasts through my body. “Oh, that. Yeah. That’s good. So, so good,” I assure him. “You can be rough with me.”
A little whimper slips from his throat at my words. “Like this?” he asks, devouring my breast with his mouth. He sucks hard on my nipple, his tongue finding just the right speed to work me into an aroused haze.
“Yes.” I arch my back, straining to bring more of my skin into contact with his heat.
He withdraws his mouth and rests his chin lightly on my chest, then he cups my breasts between his hands and slowly moves his head from left to right. He somehow—and God, I wish this room had a mirror so I could watch him do it—is able to hold my breasts together and rub the stubble of his chin against my nipples until the sensitive skin is nearly raw.
My legs tremble with need, and I open my eyes when he lifts his mouth from my skin. “Do you like being fucked hard, Willow?”
