We stumble into the stall, and he turns the water back on. He presses me against the tiles, one hand braced beside my head,the other sliding between my legs again, slick from my come and the running water.
“So fucking wet,” he rasps in my ear. “So swollen.”
“It’s your fault,” I pant.
“I need to be inside you. Right. Fucking. Now. I need to feel that pussy gripping my cock.”
“Then do it. Stop talking and fuck me, Jackson.”
In one smooth motion, he lifts me. I wrap my legs around his waist, my arms around his neck. My pendant swings between us, cool against my flushed skin.
He positions the head of his cock at my entrance, his gaze locking with mine. “Ready?”
“Always.”
He pushes inside. One slow, inexorable thrust that stretches me, fills me so it borders on pain. I sink my teeth into his shoulder to keep from screaming.
“Fuck, Maya,” he groans. “Your pussy… It’s perfect.”
He stays buried at the hilt for a moment, letting me adjust. Our foreheads press together, and I can feel the tension in his arms, the effort it takes to hold back.
“You okay?” he grits out.
“Yes… move. Please, Jackson.Move.”
He pulls almost all the way out, then drives back in with a sharp roll of his hips that makes my vision blur. The water cascades over us, his eyes locked on me, watching every twitch, every gasp as he murmurs, “Look at me.”
I do. His green eyes are dark, intense, and the look in them makes me wetter.
“No more hiding,” he growls, each word punctuated with a thrust.
“I love you, Jackson.”
“I love you too.”
He kisses me, deep and consuming, and I’m lost. Lost in the feel of him moving inside me, lost in the way his hands grip me.
He shifts, and suddenly goes deeper, hitting a spot that makes my eyes roll back. “Right there! Yes, right there!”
“I know,” he pants against my mouth. “I know what you need.”
His thumb finds my clit again, rubbing in fast, hard circles. The pressure coils inside me, building hotter than before.
“I’m gonna come,” I warn him, my voice ragged.
“Come on me,” he commands, thrusts growing erratic, losing rhythm. “Let me feel you, Maya.Now.”
The command, the overwhelming feeling of us—it tips me over. My second release shatters me, my pussy clenching around him in pulsing waves. I cry out, the sound echoing in the bathroom. He lets out a guttural moan, his own release spilling into me.
We stay pressed together under the spray, breathing hard. His grip softens, one hand stroking my wet hair.
Finally, he sets me down, steadying me. “Fuck,” he breathes.
“Yeah,” I murmur.
We wash each other slowly, his hands gliding over my skin, mine tracing the hard planes of his back. It’s tender. Quiet. A different kind of intimacy.
After being wrapped in towels and lying on his bed, Jackson traces the pendant where it rests between my breasts.
