She collapses forward, cheek to mine, her long hair spilling over my shoulder, draping us in a quiet hush.
Body-to-body, we stay here, no words, no rush, lips brushing, tongues tangling.
Her skin’s warm against mine, her breath still uneven. I don’t want to move. But the lingering heat between us, the slickness of sweat and sex, makes the idea of a second round in the shower tempting.
Tucking a wavy strand of hair behind her ear, I say, “Come hop in the shower with me. Then we’ll dig into that cherry pie.”
Humming against my mouth, a lazy smile curves her lips. “Mmm. Shower first, pie second? I like how you think.”
“We’ve earned it.”
She laughs, the sound low and still wrecked, as she climbs off my lap.
I follow her upstairs to the en-suite bathroom, her body glowing in the silvery spill of moonlight, every curve, every sway, doing things to my self-control.
We reach the bathroom, and I turn on the water, the hiss barely audible over the boom of lingering fireworks outside, late-night stragglers still lighting up the sky like they can’t let the night end.
Cami steps in front of me, bare, unguarded, and I follow, sweeping her hair aside to press my mouth to the curve of her neck.
I trail kisses from just below her ear, down her neck, and along her spine, hands mapping the heat of her skin as steam thickens around us.
Once the water’s ready, I guide her under the spray, reaching for the soap and lathering it slowly across her back, over her shoulders, down her arms, until she leans into me, slick and warm, her head resting against my chest like a silent yes.
Wrapping my arm around her waist, I hold her tight, like I’m afraid she might slip away.
“I can’t seem to get enough of you,” I rasp against her ear. “It’s never felt like this with anyone else.”
She’s quiet for a beat, then slowly turns in my arms, water sliding between us as her palms find my chest, her gaze locking with mine.
“Same,” she whispers.
Her fingers drift up my chest, tracing slow, absent circles, as though she’s unsure if the words in her head deserve to be said aloud.
“What if this is us…falling?” she asks, barely above the sound of the spray. “We agreed not to?—”
“We’re floating,” I say, brushing a wet strand from her face. “Letting this pull us wherever it wants…for as long as it lasts.”
She exhales, her smile soft, like hope is finally winning the argument in her head.
“Floating,” she echoes, trying out the word to see if it fits.
I lean in, heart pounding. “Fast.”
Before the word has a chance to fade, her mouth is on mine again, hungry, searching, the heat between us rising quicker than the steam swirling around our bodies.
I turn her gently, her slick back to my chest once more, and reach over to palm her breast, thumbing the peak until she gasps.
Bracing against the tiled wall, her head drops forward as I trail my hand down her stomach, between her thighs, finding her pussy wet and ready for me.
“Please,” she breathes. “I need you.”
Guiding myself to her entrance, I slide in deep, one arm wrapped around her waist to keep her close.
Her body trembles around me, so tight, I have to grit my teeth to keep from losing it too soon.
“You feel…” I bite off a groan, lips brushing her ear. “Sofuckinggood like this.”
Water beats against my back as I thrust into her fully, rhythm steady, her hands gripping the edge of the wall tile for balance.
