Her back arched violently, and a sharp, broken cry tore from her throat, echoing off the tiles. Her inner walls clamped down on my fingers. I held her through it, fingers still inside her, feeling every last shudder, every contraction. She slumped forward, forehead resting on my shoulder, body limp and trembling.
Slowly withdrawing my fingers, I brought them to my mouth, never breaking eye contact as I sucked them clean, tasting her. She tasted so fucking good.
Her eyes darkened as I stood up.
My cock was painfully hard and desperate to be inside her. I didn’t give her time to recover before spinning her around, her slick back now pressed against my front and pinning her wrists together above her head with one hand, holding them against the wet tile. My other hand gripped her hip, fingers digging into her soft flesh.
I leaned in, lips brushing the shell of her ear. The water pounded on my back, running down between our pressed bodies.
“You’re not done,” I whispered. “I’m just getting started with you.”
I nudged my cock against her entrance. She was still pulsing from her orgasm, impossibly wet and hot. I pushed the head in, just an inch, and we both groaned at the sensation.
“You take me so well,” I murmured into her ear, breath hot. “This perfect, tight little pussy was made for my cock. Tell me you want it.”
“I want it,” she gasped, trying to push back against me. “Owen, please...”
“Please what?”
“Fuck me. Hard.”
That was all the permission I needed. I slammed into her in one deep, brutal thrust, burying myself to the hilt. She screamed, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure. The feeling was blinding: the incredible tightness, the heat, the way her body stretched to accommodate me.
I didn’t wait. I set a punishing pace, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in. The slap of my skin against hers, the squelch of our joining, filled the steamy enclosure. My hand on her hip guided her, yanked her back onto me with every thrust. My other hand kept her wrists pinned, my body caging her in against the wall.
“Is this what you wanted?” I grunted, hips pistoning. “You wanted me to come home and find you like this? Wet and waiting?”
“Yes,” she cried.
“You knew what you were doing. Standing there. Showing off for me.” I nipped at her earlobe. “You wanted me to lose control.”
“I did. I do.”
I changed my angle slightly, and she cried out. I aimed for it again and again. Each thrust jolted through her, through me. The pleasure was a live wire, racing up my spine, tightening my balls.
“You feel so fucking good,” I rasped, my own control fraying.
Her body clenched around me in irregular spasms, signaling another approaching climax. I could feel it building in the tension of her muscles, in the broken sounds she made.
“Come with me,” I demanded, thrusts becoming erratic, desperate. “I want to feel you come on my cock. Do it. Now, Harlow.”
It was the command in my voice that sent her over. Her body seized, a violent, shaking tremor wracking her from head to toe. A long, ragged scream tore from her lungs as her inner walls clamped down on me like a vise, milking my cock as she orgasmed.
The sensation was too much. It triggered my own release that started deep in my balls and erupted its way up my cock. With a final, deep grind, I buried myself inside her and let go. Jets of cum pulsed into her, my hips jerking involuntarily. A guttural, animal sound tore from my throat.
We stayed like that, pinned together by pleasure. My forehead rested against her shoulder blade. Our harsh, panting breaths began to slow and even out. The world slowly expanded back to the confines of the shower.
I gently released her wrists, letting them fall to her sides. Red marks from my grip were already blooming on her pale skin. I softened inside her, but didn’t pull out. Not yet. I just held her, arms wrapped around her waist, my body sheltering hers from the direct blast of water.
She turned her head, cheek against the tile. Her eyes were closed, a look of sated, blissful exhaustion on her face. A slow,triumphant smile touched my lips. I pressed a soft kiss to the wet skin of her shoulder.
The water began to run cool, and all I could think about was how much I wanted to do this every day for the rest of my life.
CHAPTER 32
HARLOW
The laptop screencast a soft blue glow across Owen’s comforter as we lay sprawled across his bed, our legs tangled together like some kind of human pretzel. My chin was propped on my folded arms, my feet kicked up behind me, occasionally brushing against his shoulder when I shifted. His feet were doing the same thing near my head, though he’d at least had the decency to put on clean socks after the shower.
