She pulled back just as I teetered on the edge, standing and pressing her body to mine. "Not yet," she whispered, her voice husky.
I growled, spinning her to face the wall, but she turned in my arms, pushing me back instead. Her hands on my chest, guiding me to sit on the built-in bench.
She straddled me, sinking down onto my cock in one smooth motion—tight, hot, perfect.
We both groaned.
She rode me slow at first, grinding, her breasts brushing my chest. Then faster, her hands on my shoulders for leverage, hips rolling in a rhythm that had me gripping her ass hard.
"Like this?" she breathed, clenching around me deliberately.
"Fuck—yes?—"
She leaned in, kissing me deep, her tongue mimicking the motion of her hips. One hand slid between us, fingers circling her clit as she rode harder.
The sight—her touching herself while taking me—pushed me closer.
I thrust up to meet her, but she controlled the pace, bold and demanding.
When she came, it was with my name on her lips, her body clenching around me, pulling me over. I spilled deep inside her, arms locking around her like she was the only thing keeping me from falling apart.
We sagged together under the cooling spray, her forehead against mine.
I turned off the water, wrapping her in a towel, carrying her to the bed.
In the bedroom, the urgency shifted—deeper, slower.
She pushed me onto my back again, her eyes gleaming as she explored me like I was hers to discover.
She took me in her mouth again—slower this time, worshipful, her hands everywhere. She tilted my cock and buried her face under my balls, licking, sucking, demanding me to beg. I almost did.
Then she climbed up, turning to face away, sinking down reverse.
The view—her ass, her back arching—nearly undid me. Perfect. So fucking perfect.
I watched as her pussy lips stretched long every time she rose. Glorious.
She rode like that, one hand reaching back to grip my thigh, the other between her legs. I sat up, wrapping arms around her, one hand on her breast, the other joining hers on her clit.
Things I'd never done—never trusted myself to linger, to savor.
With her, I did.
Kissing the nape of her neck, whispering filthy praise in her ear as she ground against me. When she came again, I flipped her gently, entering from the side—spooning, deep and intimate, my hand splayed over her stomach like I could hold her together.
We moved like that forever—slow thrusts, her leg hooked over mine, my mouth on her shoulder. Lost in her, deeper and deeper, the contradictions fading as her body became my world.
Satiated. Sore. Sweating.
We collapsed together, her back to my chest, my arm draped over her.
For a moment, I was distracted—lost in the afterglow, the peace of her weight anchoring me. My father's ghost retreated, the pain numbed by her presence.
But it wasn't peace. Not really. Just a respite. A brief silence in the storm.
As my heart rate slowed, reality crept back. I couldn't stay here forever, tangled in her, pretending the world outside didn't exist.
The contradictions returned—wanting her, but knowing I brought danger to her door. The woman who'd visited her shop. Who was she? What did she want?
