“There,” he says.
I come apart faster than I expect. My orgasm hits in the middle of a breath, my pussy clenching around his fingers, my hands grabbing at him as my knees almost give. He catches me with one arm around my waist, holding me up while the pleasure shakes through me.
I bury my face in his chest.
The water keeps falling.
He pulls his fingers out slowly. For a second, I think he will stop again.
He doesn’t.
He lifts me, and I gasp as my back presses to the wet tile and my legs wrap around his waist. His cock is right there, hot and hard against my pussy, and my whole body tightens in anticipation.
He holds me still. “Tell me.”
I look at him through the steam, breathless, dizzy, aching. “I want you.”
His eyes darken. “Again.”
“I want your cock inside me.” The words leave my mouth before shame can stop them.
His control breaks. He kisses me as he lines himself up, then pushes into me slowly. Even after last night, even after hisfingers, the stretch steals my breath. My nails dig into his shoulders. He stops halfway, forehead pressed to mine.
I laugh shakily, and the sound turns into a moan when he pushes deeper.
He fills me completely. My body trembles around him, sore and tight and desperate. He stays still, letting me adjust, but I can feel what it costs him. His arms are tense. His jaw is locked. His cock pulses inside me.
I move my hips first.
His eyes flash. “Anya.”
“Move.”
He does.
The first thrust makes my head fall back against the tile. The second makes me cry out. The shower swallows some of the sound, but not enough. He fucks me against the wall, strong arms holding me up, water running over both of us, his cock driving into me slow and deep at first, then harder when my body starts meeting him.
His hand grips my ass, lifting me into every thrust. My tits press against his chest. My clit rubs against him with each movement, sending sparks of pleasure through the ache.
I cling to him. There’s nothing else to do.
“You feel me?” he asks against my mouth.
“Yes.”
“You feel me fucking you?” he asks.
“Yes, oh…oh my God,” I moan, scratching his back.
His thrusts get harder. My back slides against the tile. The water beats down around us. I can barely hold on to a thought.
Only him.
“I can feel you deep inside me,” I whimper. “Oh my God.”
The words make me clench around him. He feels it and groans, rough and deep, the sound breaking against my neck. “You like that.”
“Yes.”
