I tip my chin up, trying to sound indignant and not entirely out of breath. “I’m five-foot-three. That’s average. Well, slightlybelow average statistically. But definitely within normal range! I can reach most shelves. The lower ones.”
His mouth curves, not quite a smile, more like he’s humoring me. “Tiny.”
He reaches for the soap, working it between his hands until the scent fills the steam. Then he touches me again, drawing lazy lines of warmth across my shoulder, down my arm, across my breasts. The slick bar drags right over my nipple, and I gasp like a woman who’s never encountered Dove before.
“You missed a spot,” I rasp.
He slides a soapy hand down my stomach. My muscles clamp tight. Then the soap slips, clattering somewhere at our feet.
He rinses his hands under the spray, then they find me again. His fingers trace lower, teasing, then press between my thighs, and the first touch buckles my knees.
“Oh…” I breathe.
Two fingers push inside, slow and deep, stretching me until my body clenches tight around them. My palms fly up, pressing hard against his chest.
His mouth finds my neck, teeth scraping before he groans against my skin. “You’re already dripping. Can’t tell if it’s the shower or you.”
I squirm, but his grip on my hip is iron, locking me open as his thumb circles my clit. My chest heaves, nipples brushing his slick, hot skin.
Then he drives deeper. One finger. Then two. The stretch burns, filthy and raw.
My head tips back, thunking against the glass with a strangled moan, the sound of it bouncing back at me.
“Fuck—” I pant, nails dragging down his chest, needing something to hold onto.
It’s too much. Too fast. Maybe it’s the leftover cocktails still swirling in my system, maybe it’s the steam choking the air butmy body clamps down, and I’m shattering before I can even warn him.
“Oh my god!”
He swallows my cries with his mouth, kissing me roughly, tongues tangling while the water beats down.
I slide my hand down, wrapping it around his cock. The size makes my whole body jolt. I rise on my toes, trying to drag the head against my slit, but I can’t quite angle us right.
His mouth curves against mine. “Are you trying to put it in?”
“Maybe.” I laugh breathlessly. “I’m on the pill. Are you clean?”
“Yes. But sweetheart, you’ll never manage to get it in like that.”
Before I can argue, his hands clamp on my ass. One effortless haul and I’m airborne, arms flying around his neck, legs clinging to his hips as a squeak bursts from my throat.
The shift grinds his cock right against me, blunt head dragging across my slit, catching on swollen flesh, grazing my clit before slipping lower, nudging at the slick heat already begging for him.
Holyshit.We’re really doing this. In the shower. With me suspended in his arms, water hammering down on us like we’re trying to recreateThe Notebook: XXX Edition.
He groans, forehead dropping against mine. “Fuck, Georgie…”
He thrusts forward. The stretch burns as his tip pushes inside. My breath breaks in a sharp gasp.
“Now that’s a skill I never knew a man could need,” I gasp, half laughing, half moaning, because he’s literally holding me up on his cock.
His arms shift, hefting me higher, and the movement drags him deeper. His jaw locks, face a picture of strained control. “I didn’t mean for it to be like this but… fuck… I can’t stop now.”
A cry rips out of me as he drives further into me. “Oww.”
He stills instantly.
For a second, shame washes over me. Like I’m too awkward and too out of practice to be worth the effort. But then his handssteady me, and I realize he’s not annoyed or impatient. He’s just giving me space to breathe. Waiting for me to be ready.
