She’s already wet. Soaked.
My dick throbs, and once again, I curse our no-sex agreement.
My grip tightens on the fabric bunched at her waist. The other hand roams down to free my aching erection and position it between her thighs.
She gasps, pulse fluttering in her neck.
Though every instinct shrieks at me to move her fingers and plunge inside, I restrain myself. I will honor the boundary of our agreement.
But I will toe the very edge of that line.
I slide against her, shivering as I glide through the wet heat of her arousal.
Heaven. She’s fucking heaven. No penetration, yet I’m already addicted.
When her movements falter, I growl into her ear. “Don’t stop. Show me.”
She resumes her stroking, breathy little gasps escaping her throat in the process. Her hips begin to rock, and I catalogue every flutter of her eyelids in the mirror. Whenever her fingers skim my cock, a sharp burst of pleasure steals my air from my lungs.
This is mine.
Sheis mine. To possess and dominate. To protect from all threats.
Her knees quake as if she might collapse.
I snake an arm beneath her breasts, holding her upright. Moaning, she tightens her thighs around me and squeezes.
Hot, urgent pleasure builds. Her movements grow more desperate and less controlled. She winds one hand around my neck and digs her fingers in with bruising force.
I welcome the pain. Want her to mark me. Let her leave her signature on my skin and claim a piece of me in return.
“That’s it,lyubimaya.”
Her body tenses, signaling her impending orgasm. “I’m so close…”
“Let go for me.” I bite the spot where shoulder meets neck, then soothe the hurt away with my tongue. “Show me you’re alive. That they didn’t steal anything from you today.”
She comes with a cry torn from somewhere deep inside her. Her body shudders against mine, eyes closing as ecstasy overwhelms her.
The sight and sound of her bliss, the way her thighs clutch and tremble on my cock…it’s all too much. One more pump andmy release hits with unexpected force, pouring down her thighs to mix with her own wetness.
We stand locked together, quivering in the aftermath.
Once the last wave ends, her eyes open. She glances down at the mess painted across her skin. Her fingers move, touching us both.
We groan in unison.
I guide her to the shower and flip on the water while she sags against the cool tile.
She’s quiet as I lather soap on a cloth and gently clean every inch of her body. I ignore my cock’s renewed interest, content to take care of this woman who’s thrown my life off balance.
The dynamics have changed. Some barrier’s crumbled. We’ve crossed a line that has nothing to do with the physical act we just shared.
“Who’s MJ?”
The question catches me off guard like a bullet I didn’t see coming. I consider lying or pretending I didn’t hear.
But I can’t lie. Not about him.
