Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 147021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 735(@200wpm)___ 588(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 735(@200wpm)___ 588(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
The hand on my right hip moves inward, and I stop breathing. The backs of his fingers sweep over my bare skin, and then his index finger slides between my folds. I’m so wet. So ready for him. I moan—wantonly, unabashedly, loudly.
His mouth curls up in a salacious smile that makes my already weak knees quake and my clit ache. He withdraws his fingers, and I latch on to his wrist. “No, no, please!”
His other hand cups my cheek. “Shower first, then I’ll take care of you.” He kisses me chastely and gives me an expectant look.
“I should help you out of these.” I tug at the loop on his jeans.
“If you’d like.” His other hand rises, and his eyes stay fixed on mine as he licks his index finger and hums with approval.
I’m so out of my depth, totally in over my head. I can’t decide if I’m more likely to faint, spontaneously come, or turn into a puddle. I fight to steady my hands as I shimmy his jeans over his hockey butt and push them down his thighs.
I drop to my knees on the cold tile and carefully pull them past his wrapped knee. He steps out of one leg and braces his hand on the shower behind me as he does the same with his non-injured leg. And then he’s in nothing but boxer shorts and the bandage around his knee meant to stabilize it.
“Should I remove this?” I settle my hand above the bandage.
“I can do it,” he says.
“Let me, please.” I find the Velcro on the side and gently peel it away. The stitches from surgery have already dissolved, so only a few small red spots mark the incisions.
Once the bandage is removed, I tuck my fingers into his waistband and carefully free his reawakening cock before dragging the boxers down his thighs. He steps out and kicks them aside. I’m at eye-level with his penis. If I lean forward, I can nuzzle it, or kiss it, or suck it. My thoughts must be written on my face, because he bends and slides his hands under my arms, lifting me to my feet. “I’ll keep that sweet mouth of yours busy later.”
He opens the shower door, and I put my hand under the spray, testing the water before I step in. Hollis follows me and closes the door. Steam billows around us as water cascades over his chest and down his abs. I run my hands over his shoulders and down his inked arm, and then we’re kissing, slick bodies pressed against each other. His erection swells against my stomach, and I roll my hips, wanting more, wanting his hands all over me, fingers inside me, tongue on my skin.
He pulls back, eyeing my face before he taps the jet on the wall. “I can see why you prefer my shower.”
“My showerhead does the job.”
“But it’s more work,” he notes. “So I should help.”
He squirts some of my body wash into his palm and rubs his hands together, creating suds. And then his hands are on the move, sliding down my arms and up my ribs, skimming the undersides of my breasts and smoothing down my back, squeezing my ass before he spins me around, my back to his chest. He turns the rain showerhead toward the back wall and slides the door open. The fan is on in the bathroom, so the mirror is mostly fog free.
I stare at our reflection across the room, and it’s like I’m seeing myself for the first time. Hollis is six-three and I’m nearly five-nine, so the top of my head reaches his chin. But he’s so broad and thick and so intensely gorgeous, he takes my breath away. His soapy hand eases up my stomach, the tattoos on his biceps rippling as he cups my breast. He kisses a path up my neck. “The number of times I fucked my hand to the image of you naked in my shower is obscene.”
“The number of times I fucked myself with my vibrator in your bed last week was equally obscene.”
“I know. I watched the videos before I deleted them.” He reaches for the detachable showerhead. “Now show me.”
His admissions give me courage, as does the hot, expectant look on his face. I spread my legs and lean against him, letting my head rest against his chest as I guide the showerhead between my thighs. It only takes a few seconds to find the spot that makes my eyes roll up and my knees wobbly.
“That’s it, Princess.” Hollis’s arm tightens around my waist, and his lips move along my neck, nipping, kissing. “I’ve got you.”
He toys with my nipple with the other hand, rolling the stiff peak, tugging, pinching. And all the while, I watch our reflections in the mirror while he watches me. My belly flutters, every muscle tightening as sensation builds, radiating through me. And Hollis murmurs hot words of encouragement, telling me I’m gorgeous, that he loves watching me come. When my body starts to shake and my coordination suffers, he takes over, keeping the pressure where I need it. As the orgasm rushes through me, he takes almost all my weight, his arm wrapped tightly around me, his lips on my neck. When the shaking subsides, he carefully sets the showerhead back in the holder and waits until my legs remember how to do their job before he turns me around and takes my mouth in another bone-melting kiss.