“Tully—I’m?—”
“Come for me,” he rasps, voice wrecked. “Let me feel you.”
His thumb finds my clit, circling in time with his thrusts, and it’s more than I can take. I shatter again, harder this time, clenching around him so tight he swears under his breath. My name spills from his lips like a prayer as he follows. His hips stutter, and he buries himself deep as he pulses inside me.
We collapse together, slick and trembling. His weight pins me to the mattress. I wrap my arms around him, fingers threading through his hair, holding on the way I’ve wanted to for so long.
Minutes pass, neither of us wanting to break the spell.Eventually, he rolls to the side, pulling me with him so I’m tucked against his chest. His heartbeat thunders under my cheek—fast and unsteady, just like mine.
He takes care of the condom and is right back, his arms tight around me. His lips brush my forehead, and I tilt my head back so I can see his face. His eyes are soft now, unguarded. He studies me for a long moment.
“Well, that was even better than I remembered,” he says. “And we were always unbelievable together. At least, to me, we were.”
“To me too,” I say. “And yes, that was even better. Must be the island,” I tease, trying to bring some levity to the conversation because I think I might cry if I don’t.
Outside, the wedding music drifts up faintly. Inside, my body tight against his, I’m right where I want to be. Our breathing slows down. Tully’s arm is heavy across my waist, his fingers tracing idle patterns on my lower back. I feel sticky and gloriously used. My thighs are slick, my muscles pleasantly sore, but the ache between my legs is already shifting from satisfied to hungry again.
I shift against him, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “I need to clean up,” I murmur. “Bathroom.”
He hums low in his throat, reluctant to let go. “Me too. Want company?”
The offer is casual, but the way his hand slides down to cup my ass says it’s anything but. Heat flares low in my belly.
“Yeah,” I say, voice husky. “Give me three minutes and then come find me.”
We untangle slowly. He stands first, steadying me when my legs wobble for a second. Naked, he’s all long lines and muscle, the faint red scratches I left on his back standing out against his skin like badges. I love seeing proof on his bodythat I was there. He grabs a fresh condom from his suitcase and flushes slightly when I lift my eyebrows.
“Dax showered me with condoms last night…so I’d be prepared tonight.” He holds up his hand. “Not that I expected this.”
He tucks a condom into my hand with a crooked smile.
“You can hold on to this for me,” he says.
I close my fingers around the foil packet, pulse kicking up.
He stays in the bedroom while I go into the bathroom and set the condom on the counter. I take care of business and wash my hands, then laugh as I try to smooth down my sex hair.
I turn on the shower, letting the water get warm. Tully moves into the tiny room with the toilet, closes the door, then walks out a minute later to wash his hands. He leans against the counter, watching me, his eyes dark and appreciative. I turn to face him, and he’s already half-hard again, thickening under my gaze. I step closer, trail my fingers down his chest, over his abs, and wrap my hand around him. He twitches in my palm.
He puts his hands on my hips and guides me into the roomy shower, the water cascading over us. He lathers my breasts, my back, and between my legs with careful, teasing strokes that make me gasp against his mouth. And then he kisses me slow and deep while soap suds slide between us. I do the same, soaping his chest and his cock, stroking him until he’s fully hard and groaning into my neck. I can see his tattoos better in here, and I rinse them and kiss each one before lifting up on my toes to kiss his mouth again.
He spins me so my back is to his front, one arm banding around my waist, the other sliding down to cup me. Two fingers slip inside, and my head falls back on his shoulder.
“Tully…”
“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs against my ear, teeth grazing the lobe.
“I want everything. I want you. Inside me. Now.”
He reaches past me and grabs the condom from the counter. Water streams over his shoulders as he tears it open with his teeth and rolls it on with quick, practiced movements. Then he’s pressing me forward, hands on my hips, bending me just enough so I brace my palms on the cool tile wall.
He teases me with his tip—shallow, shallow, then one smooth, deep plunge that buries him to the hilt. I cry out, the sound echoing off the walls. The angle is perfect, hitting every sensitive spot. Water pounds down on us, warm and relentless, as he starts to move.
Each thrust rocks me forward, and I push back to meet him, taking him deeper. His hand slides around to my clit again, his rhythm just right. I feel him everywhere, and the sensation builds fast, coiling tight in my core.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growls, voice rough. “So fucking perfect.”
I’m beyond words now—just moans, gasps, his name broken on every exhale. He shifts his angle slightly, and I shatter first. It sneaks up on me, hard and sudden, and I clench around him in pulsing waves. My knees threaten to buckle, but he holds me up, arm locked around my waist. He drives through my orgasm until he’s right there with me.
