I press closer, my wet skin sliding against his, and he groans into my mouth. His hands move down my sides, gripping my hips, pulling me flush against him. I can feel how hard he is, the thick length of him pressing against my stomach.
I break the kiss, breathing hard, and meet his eyes. Then I drop to my knees.
The tile is hard and cold, but I don't care. I wrap my hand around the base of his cock, water streaming over both of us, and take him into my mouth.
"Fuck, Sarah?—"
I work him with lips and tongue, learning what makes his breathing change, what makes his hand tighten in my hair. He's thick enough that my jaw aches, but the sounds he's making—rough, desperate sounds—make it worth it.
I take him deeper, relaxing my throat, and his hips jerk forward. His hand tightens in my hair, not controlling but grounding, and I can feel the tension building in his thighs.
"Sarah—" His voice is strained. "I'm close?—"
I hum in response and take him deeper.
He swears, his hand fisting in my hair, and then suddenly he's pulling me up. Before I can catch my balance, he sweeps me up in his arms, cradling me against his chest.
"Not like that," he says roughly.
I reach out and twist the shower handle, cutting off the water, and then he's carrying me out. Both of us dripping wet, leaving a trail of water across the floor. He lays me down on the bed, and the cool air hits my heated skin as he follows me onto the mattress, settling his weight between my thighs.
His mouth finds mine again, hungry and demanding, and I arch up into him, needing more, needing everything.
20
SARAH
"Sarah." My name on his lips sounds like a prayer and a promise. He pulls back enough to look at me, water still dripping from his hair onto my skin. "Tell me you want this."
"I want this." The words come out breathless. "I want you."
He kisses me again, slower this time, thorough, and then his mouth moves down my neck, across my collarbone, lower. When he takes my nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing before he soothes with his tongue, I gasp, hands gripping the sheets beneath me.
He works his way down my body with deliberate intent, kissing and tasting, learning every response. His mouth trails over my ribs, my stomach, the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. By the time his shoulders press my thighs wider, I'm already trembling, already so wet I can feel it.
The first touch of his tongue has me arching off the bed. He knows exactly what he's doing, broad strokes that pull his name from my lips, then focused attention on my clit that has my hips lifting off the mattress. When his fingers push into me, curling to hit that perfect spot while his mouth works, pleasure coils tight and sharp.
"Micah—" His name breaks on a moan.
He hums against me, the vibration making my thighs shake, and increases the pressure of his tongue. He circles my clit with relentless precision while his fingers curl and thrust, hitting deeper. The orgasm slams into me, pulsing through my core in waves that have me crying out, fingers tangled in his hair.
He doesn't stop and doesn't let up. His tongue gentles but stays focused, drawing out each aftershock while his fingers work inside me. I'm still trembling when he stretches me wider, and the fullness combined with his relentless mouth pushes me over the edge again. This time I come shaking, my whole body taut.
When he finally moves up my body, I can barely form words. He kisses me and I taste myself on his tongue, musky and intimate.
"Micah—" I reach for him, needing him inside me. "Please."
He releases my hands and kisses me hard, deep and consuming. Then finally, finally, he positions himself and pushes inside me. The stretch is perfect, the fullness everything I needed. He's thick and I'm sensitive from coming twice, and the sensation of him filling me inch by slow inch drags a groan from my throat.
He stays still for a moment once he's fully seated, letting me adjust, his forehead pressed to mine. I can feel his breath hot against my skin, feel him pulsing inside me.
"Fuck, Sarah." His voice is wrecked. "You feel incredible."
"Move," I beg, wrapping my legs around his waist. "Please."
He does. He pulls almost all the way out and drives back in, setting a rhythm that's deliberate and deep. Each thrust hits perfectly, the angle stealing my breath. The slick slide of him inside me and the sound of skin on skin fills the room.
He shifts, changing the angle, and hits that spot inside me that makes stars burst behind my eyelids.
