“Hmm?”
“Look at me.”
Her head rolls back on my shoulder as she meets my eye over hers. The makeup around her eyes is smudged, smearing bluish black over her cheeks.
“You did so good today. You did everything right.”
Her expression softens in surprise, before her eyes dart to the side. “You mean it?”
“I do. Every time we meet, you impress me in a new, different way.”
Lacey smiles half-heartedly. She twists in my grasp and reaches up the sides of my face, raking my wet hair back from my eyes. She presses a kiss to my mouth, and my grip on her tenses.
My mind goes blissfully blank for a moment as she leans back against me and my cock presses against her ass. I’m achingly hard before I can try to pretend that I could play it cool around her and not be completely, obviously horny.
Really, here in the shower, it was futile. I didn’t stand a chance. My tip wedges just under the crux of her thighs, and I bite hard at the inside of my cheek to hold onto some shred of sanity.
Lacey takes the bar of soap back from me, continuing to lather it between her hands, giving me an endless supply of suds to rake over her body. Taking handfuls of her hips, her stomach,every bit of her spills back out of my grasp at the slightest squeeze.
“I don’t know if you realize what you did to me back there.”
“What?” Her soft laugh turns into a sound of pleasure as my hands sweep up her stomach to cup her tits, unimaginably soft and heavy; my thumb circles around the point of her nipple, sending her body arching further into my touch.
“Every piece of clothing you took off, God. My heart was gonna tear in half.”
The too-soft flesh of her nipple becomes a hardened bud under my palm. Her brows draw together as I roll that tight peak idly between my fingers. I want her to know I’ll be here for her, for whatever she needs.
Pressing a kiss to her jawline, I murmur, “Let me make you feel good.”
She gives a throaty little sound, a hitch in her breath. She bites her lip and nods.
I grab her hips, pulling her closer against me for the slightest relief to the neediness radiating through my body. I rock my hips slowly, feeling the slick friction of my cock between her thighs. The temptation to just bend her over now makes my cock twitch with need.
“Don’t laugh at me if I come just from touching you,” I hum against her shoulder, not entirely joking. I’m doing my best here, truly.
She leans back against me to steady herself, but I can see the trust in her expression. “Wh-at?”
“It’s a problem. Every time I touch myself, I’m thinking about what I could do with you if I could have just anotherminute...” I trail off, wondering which of those things I might be able to accomplish right now. “It’s becoming deranged and pav—fuck, Pavlovian.”
My tip grazes between her folds, finding the heat of her center. It feels so good, my teeth gnash together mid-sentence. I don’t know how I’m going to make it out of this alive.
There’s a built-in ledge made of the same tile the shower wall is, and as I skim down the back of her leg, it seems all too easy to hook two fingers under her knee and bring her foot up onto it. She lets me do it, watching with a timid curiosity. “Give me a moment just to look at you.”
I take in her reflection against the large one-way window looking out across the city as I spread her legs, her glistening, pink, wet pussy fully on display for me.
I rinse the suds from my hand, and drag a finger through her folds, parting them. I tease up and down, tracing over her clit, watching her reflection for every little reaction. Her mouth forms a pretty littleoin the window as I ease a finger inside her, finding her hot and wet and tight.
“Oh, God, yes, just like that,” she gasps. I draw it out again, dragging the length of my finger purposefully against her clit.
She doesn’t need to tell me twice. I mean, she could, because I’m not against hearing her voice so utterly decadent with pleasure. With a few more strokes, my hand is slick enough to push a second finger in.
“Ellis,” she warns, her voice somewhere between a whimper and a moan, clutching her free hand at whatever she can for support. She grips a handful of my thigh, her nails digging in. It doesn’t feel like pain; it feels like a fucking triumph.
“Lacey,” I breathe back, kissing her neck. “Keep making those fucking sounds.”
I want to see her unraveling against me, gasping and moaning just like that. The little noise she makes each time my fingers curl in deeper is addictive. I could forget everything else and just keep pushing into her, sliding in and out, listening to the way the smallest of moans ride on her breath.
Her leg up on the ledge starts twitching, and her grip on my arm tightens.
