“Had it done piecemeal whenever I came back stateside. Harper’s friend did it,” I reply, dropping down to my haunches. I lift her right foot and set it on my thigh.
“Bastard?”
“You know him?” I ask, washing her feet.
“When they say people know one another through six degrees of separation, it’s not a lie. Bastard Ink was who did my butterflies. They do pro bono work for the nonprofit that provides tattoos for trauma survivors. Harper said that he did her survivor tattoo.”
Slowly rising, I glide my hands up the contours of her hourglass figure. “Everything is connected in some way.”
“Like us,” she says, reaching for the shampoo. “Bend down for me a little. You’re too tall.”
Hooking her around the waist, I lift her off her feet. “I like this much better.”
She smiles as she lathers my hair. “I may see the merits of your way.”
Her hands massage my scalp, and I melt into a puddle of relaxation. This is a new experience for me. The simplicity of intimacy. Of having someone take care of you.
Elizabeth plays with my hair, alternating between flattening the strands with her palm and spiking them to create a mohawk. “Let’s get you rinsed.”
Still holding her, I stand under the spray as she washes the suds from my hair. Her ministrations slow, and something shifts in her eyes.
“Fallon?” she says, her voice going husky.
I have to adjust my grip when her legs wrap around my waist, placing my achingly hard cock I’ve been trying to ignore right at her pussy. Eyes on me, she licks her lips and rotates her hips, and the tip of my shaft notches at her entrance.
“Elizabeth,” I warn. There’s only so much willpower I can muster with her naked in my arms.
She braces her hands on either side of my face, her fingertips digging into the back of my neck. “Make me yours.”
Not able to withstand her command, the chains of my desire break.
She lets out a sexy grunt when I push her back against the beige tile wall. With my weight holding her in place, I let my hand wander her body, caressing her curves and tracing patterns on her soft skin. She shudders, her body becoming increasingly responsive to every movement of my fingers. My thumb brushes against her nipple, making it flush a deeper shade of pink and harden under the attention.
“More,” she entreats, and a contented hum leaves her lips as I languidly stroke my tongue over her wet skin.
I’m a man on a mission, wanting to steep her in pleasure so she feels nothing but me and my touch. My mouth. My body.
My hand roams the concave of her hip, which gives way to the valley of her waist before it comes to rest on the swell of her stomach.
“Mine.”
My need for her is too great, and I can’t wait any longer.
“Yours,” she moans as I sink my cock into her paradise.
Fuck, she’s tight.
So good.
Every sensation, every sound, comes alive. It’s too much and not enough. It’s every fantasy I’ve had of her come to life, but the reality of finally having her is overwhelming. Life-altering. My heart splits wide open, the love I had buried inside pouring out. It’s painful and wonderful and…everything.
I love you. I love you.
Her chin tilts downward, eyes transfixed on where our bodies are connected.
“The piercing…feels really good.” Her breath catches as she intently watches the slow glide of my cock as I ease out of her and thrust back in. “More intense.”
“For me, too.” And not because of the metal barbell, but because of her.
