One second I’m straddling him in the water, the next he’s standing, and I’m sliding off his thighs. He hauls me to my feet, then bends low like he’s going to tackle me.
Bathwater sloshes everywhere, spilling over the sides and splashing across the tile floor as he hauls me up in a fireman’s carry. I yelp his name, holding on for dear life as he steps out of the tub and walks across the floor to the bed.
A bolt of electricity shoots straight up my spine with every step, the plug jostling inside me and my cock trapped against his shoulder. He leaves a trail of water all the way to the bed and tosses me down on the mattress.
He crawls over me, bracketing my head with his arms, water dripping from his hair onto my forehead. His stubble scrapes my jaw as he noses along my cheek to kiss just below my ear, and I arch up into him helplessly.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs against my throat, turning my head towards the ornate floor-length mirror next to the bed. “Look at you.”
“No,” I mutter, because if I look at myself right now—flushed, needy, and wrecked—I might actually combust.
He laughs softly. “Yes,” he counters. One broad palm slides up my chest, fingers splaying over my racing heart. His thumb brushes my collarbone, then drifts higher, curling around my throat with the lightest pressure.
Every atom in my body combusts.
He kisses me again, slowly and all-consuming. As his mouth moves over mine, his other hand trails down my side, over the curve of my hip, finally slipping around to gently ease the toy free. I gasp into him, the sudden empty ache making me clutch at his shoulders.
“It’s okay,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.”
And he does.
The rest blurs into sensation. The drag of his stubble along my neck and chest as he kisses down, leaving warm, wet trails in his wake. The way his hands are everywhere all at once, grounding and worshiping and teasing, taking his time with me because for once, we have all the time in the world.
When he finally pushes into me, slow and careful, one hand cradling the back of my head, the world narrows to the heat of him and the way my body yields around him, already open and wanting. I cling to him, breathing harshly against his shoulder, and he goes still.
“Okay?” he asks, voice hoarse.
I nod, fingers digging into his back. “More,” I choke out. “Please.”
He groans and obliges, moving in steady, shallow rolls of his hips that make my toes curl. There’s nothing rushed about it. No frantic edge, no panic. Just us, fitting together, learning eachother all over again in this room that feels a little bit like a bubble of universe that’s just for us. It’s hot and slow and serious and playful and everything all at once.
At some point he pulls me up so I’m upright on my knees and enters me from behind. As he rolls his hips, keeping one hand on my hip to steady me, the other comes around to hold my throat.
“Look,” he tries again. This time, it’s impossible not to.
Our bodies glisten with water and sweat, reflecting the bright streaks of pink and orange that paint the sky outside the wide-open windows.
Brody kisses down the back of my neck and lightly scrapes his teeth along the back of my shoulder. Then he slowly bends me forward, brushing his hand down my spine and making my back arch just right. My breath catches.
“Right there,” he says on a breathy groan as my spine tingles. “Don’t stop looking,” he says, and our eyes meet in the mirror.
Brody looks fucking dangerous. Holding me just the way he wants me, rolling his hips with each stroke, abs clenching, muscles rippling. He bites his full lip and tells me what a good girl I am for him, how I feel so good, so hot and tight and perfect.
“I can’t believe I get to come inside you,” he groans. “You’re going to have traces of me inside you, leaking out of you. I’m going to mark you from the inside, and you’re going to be mine.”
My body clenches, and he feels it. He keeps me there, just like that, fucking into me with long, firm strokes that light up every nerve in my body. I choke out his name, eyes glued to his in the mirror, and come undone.
I gasp and heave as the orgasm tears through me, pressing my face into the bedding and screaming when Brody’s hand wraps around my cock and strokes me with each thrust, intensifying the sensations ripping me at the seams.
I’m a shaking, shuddering, overstimulated pile of nerves when Brody warns me he’s close.
“Oh, fuck. I’m going to—” He groans. “I’m com—Holy Fuck, I’m coming inside you. You’re mine, Becky, you’re so”—thrust—”fucking”—thrust—”mine.” He thrusts one last time, holding me against him and pulsing, rocking back and forth, until he collapses on top of me, heaving against my back.
Brody is shaking as he lifts himself up, forehead against the middle of my back, still panting.
“I’ve never done that before,” he says, his words coming out between huffs. “That was intense and I… Fuck, Becky, I love you.”
“I love you,” I echo, boneless and completely spent.
