His hand wraps around mine as he lowers the showerhead.
I swallow, eyes burning into his as the warm water hits my clit.
My face twists instantly, and his softens. “That’s it.”
His hand disappears, and he takes a step back so he’s between the two water streams. He’s really going to make me do this.
It’s when his fist wraps around his cock as he watches me that I want to see him just as tortured. I move the spray over my clit. Heat pools low in my belly, my thighs slick with need as I shift a hand to my breast, rolling the nipple between the pads of two fingers.
The water wets his hair as he takes a step backward into the spray. His dark hair mats over his temples, and his jaw flexes as his gaze descends to the hand still wandering over my nipple.
“Fuck, Sunshine. Independent looks good on you.” He pumps his fist over his cock, growling. “Show me how you make yourself come thinking about me.”
I narrow my eyes playfully at him. “How do you know it’s you I’m thinking of, Hads?”
He chuckles. His hand reaches for me, sliding into my hair at the back of my head, tugging me closer as he rasps, “Because you came home.”
The showerhead drops from my hands, clattering to the tile before swinging back toward the wall on the cord. Hadley’s rough grip tugs my head back, and his mouth closes over mine. Hunting for more, his tongue thrusts into my mouth. My legs shake. I slide one hand behind his neck, the other gripping his biceps.
Warm fingers circle my clit.
So much for independence.
Impatient man.
Fingers dragging down his chest and stomach, I take his cock into my hand. He growls into my mouth. I tighten my grip.
“Fuck, Maggie. Fuck.”
His forehead hits mine. Before he can send me any higher with his fingers dancing around my clit, I drop to my knees. My mouth has been watering for this man for days. Now, bare, wet, and right in front of me... torture is not having him in my mouth. Sunk deep inside me.
But first things first.
I close my lips around his tip, sweeping my tongue over a small bead of salty offering. His hand slaps to the tiled wall. “Easy, baby,” he warns.
Intent on taking it so, so slowly that he loses control, I take him in an inch.
The faces he pulled last time I took him inch by inch have burned themselves into my memory in the best possible way.
Every shallow stroke I take sees him shift.
Stroke . . . a hand fists in my hair.
Stroke . . . he rumbles something incoherent.
Stroke... his eyes snap shut as his grip finds my jaw.
Stroke... the man above me starts to tremble. Those muscle-bound legs shake as his breathing falters.
I send a hand down to my aching center and sweep a fingertip over it lightly to ease the burn. Instead, it stokes my own fire, and I moan.
Hadley’s grip in my hair turns punishing.
I take his velvety tip in my mouth, swirling my tongue, taking the pre-cum that leaks out continuously. Every sweep of my tongue takes me higher. With one hand, I search for the showerhead. I find it and turn it over until the spray finds my throbbing center.
I whimper as I cascade toward an agonizing orgasm.
Hands find my face.
