I hear the door creak.
Footsteps.
Suddenly the steam shifts behind me.
“What is my naughty girl doing without me?” Nolan’s voice is laced with desire.
He steps into the shower, still dressed, t-shirt soaked, eyes dark, and wolfish. “I’ve been fantasizing about that shower head since we got here.”
“I’m sure you have.” My gaze slides down his dripping body. He’s so beautiful, some days I can barely stand it.
Nolan undoes his pants, hooks his thumbs into the waistband, eyes locked on mine, daring me to blink.
I don’t. I lick my lips, hungry with anticipation.
He shoves his pants down, and his thick cock springs free, flushed deep with need. The sight of it makes my mouth water.
God, he’s huge.
I drag my eyes back up to his, smirking as heat coils low and tight in my belly.
“Get over here,” I whisper. “I want you in my mouth.”
The look in his eyes shifts from amused to absolutely animalistic. He yanks his shirt over his head, baring inch after inch of slick, warm muscle. He discards the soaked garment in the corner.
Steam wraps around us, water cascading off his chest as I run my hands up his thighs.
“Don’t move,” I warn, tone soaked in intent.
He doesn’t. Not even a little bit.
I press a kiss to the base of his abdomen, then another, my lips trailing along the taut line of his abs as he stands there, barely breathing.
Nolan stares down at me like I might be the one thing he’ll never recover from. And I fucking love that.
My hands glide up the backs of his thighs before clamping myself there as I look up at him—dripping wet, waiting.
The spray pounds at my back, steam cocooning us in something hot and intimate.
“You were saying something about wanting me in your mouth.” His lips quirk.
Snarky bastard.
Wrapping a hand around his slick, firm length, he’s hot and pulsing, straining with need. My thumb circles the tip, teasing, testing.
“Fuck,” a groan rumbles through him, echoing off the tile. One hand flies to the wall for balance, the other fists in my wet hair.
Lowering my mouth, I kiss the head gently, then drag my tongue along the underside deliberately slow.
He swears under his breath. It’s killing him. Another thing I fucking love.
Water trails down his toned stomach. I take him deeper, letting the weight of him fill my mouth. The steam blurs everything but the feel of him, the taste of him, the raw heat pulsing between us.
His fingers tighten in my hair. He’s breathing hard, hips twitching like he’s seconds from losing it.
I circle my tongue around him while he’s inside me, and he lets out a strangled sound, part moan, part prayer.
My head bobs as I suck him hard. He’s holding back. But I don’t want him restrained.
