She releases a broken sound, and her eyes flutter.
That’s all it takes — a few seconds of pressure on her clit and she shatters. Her back arches. Her whole body goes rigid and then snaps, folding around my cock in a loud, sobbing, breathless scream that echoes off the shower walls.
“That’s right,” I groan, pounding her through it. “Let it all out.”
Her thighs squeeze my waist as she falls apart in my arms, twitching with every deep thrust. Fucking gorgeous.
She goes limp against me, breathing as if she almost drowned and barely surfaced. Her pussy keeps pulsingaround me, clenching and refusing to let go. I pull out anyway, my cock dragging against her swollen walls.
Her legs tremble and I grip her tighter, one arm under her ass lifting her, holding her against the wall while she whimpers, still on the high. With my other hand I start stroking myself, hard, fast, rough.
“Fuck, baby,” I growl.
Her eyes flutter open, the look in them barely there. My hand pumping my cock hard, tip flushed and ready to explode.
“Look at it.” I meet her eyes. “Watch me do it.”
She lifts her head, and suddenly her hand wraps around mine, stroking with me.
“Fuck, Jessica.”
I cum hard. Hot, thick spurts paint her stomach, streaking down her flushed skin, across her belly.
“Jesus fuck,” I groan as the orgasm tears through me hard, my muscles locking, cock pulsing while I empty every drop onto her.
When I finally come back into myself, my breathing is hard. So spent and satisfied, I almost feel dizzy.
“You look so fucking good like this,” I murmur, my breath still heavy.
Her body is limp against me, but her eyes burn. I ease her down slowly, one hand steady on her waist.
“Can you stand?”
“I think so.”
I keep a hand on her just in case, but she plants her feet, exhales, and bites her bottom lip with a soft, pleased smile. She glances down at the streaks I left across her.
“Oh my God,” she whispers.
“Come here.” I pull her fully under the spray, warm water washing over both of us.
I hook a finger under her chin and tilt her face up for a wet kiss. Her fingers curl into my chest; the heat between us still smolders.
“If this is the punishment for spying on you,” she murmurs, “I’m gonna make sure I do it every time you shower.”
“That so?” I say, smirking.
Biting her lip, she nods. I look down at her, fighting the urge to pin her to the wall again. Instead, I pump body wash into my hands and begin lathering her, dragging my palms up her back, rubbing soap into her shoulders, kneading the muscle with my fingers.
“Where did you learn to massage like that?” she breathes, eyes half-lidded.
“Physio,” I say. “We get it every week during the season. Learned a few things.”
I rub my thumbs in slow circles over her upper back, earning a hum of pleasure. I kneel for a moment and repeat the motion down her thighs, the pads of my thumbs working into the tight spots from holding her up.
“You don’t have to do this,” she whispers.
“I got you dirty,” I say, looking up at her. “So it’s my job to get you clean.”
