she stopped before him and put her hands on his skin, pushing his shirt up his torso to touch his waist.
âI donât thinkââ he started, but he didnât get far.
âI thought you wanted to wash me.â An image from his fantasy of sliding soapy fingers through her hair drifted through his vision. He hadnât realized sheâd seen it.
âI do. Butâ¦â
She drew the fabric higher, leaning in to whisper, âBe naked with me.â
Her mind, guarded as it was, teemed over with heat intense enough to match his own, thoughts of skin and touch and the completeness born from the place where their flesh and thoughts enmeshed.
His willpower crumbled. As he pulled his shirt over his head, her nimble fingers wrestled with the rest of his clothes until he was as bare as she was. He was hard, his cock aching with the need to touch and be touched. It was all so new and yet so familiar now. She took his hand and led him into the stall, then closed the door behind them.
The place had not been designed for two, the space cramped, but it was all the better for that closeness. He placed himself between her body and the spray, shielding her face from it and pressing himself against her. With his hands on her hips, he leaned in and kissed her mouth, tasting her lips and tongue. His needy flesh was trapped between them, her softness sliding against him as he lifted her up and pinned her to the tile with his hips.
And it was such a relief as she opened to him, kissing back and combing fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp and gripping tightly at his shoulder. Her mind spread just as eagerly, and the depth of her want still floored him. Made him touch harder, delve more deeply.
He slipped his fingers through the silky place between her thighs, listening to her thoughts for cues on what felt good to her. Everything felt good to himâher breath at his ear and her arms around his neck, the heat of her legs as they wrapped around his hips. As he circled higher, rubbing tighter at soft flesh and pressing his fingertips just inside, she threw her head back, bracing herself and clutching at his spine.
âGood?â he asked, his mouth open against her throat. His voice was ragged, his every instinct telling him to push inside and make her his again.
âYes.â
It was an answer to both questions, the one heâd spoken aloud and the one he hadnât. Her thoughts were all of fullness and of a hard body thrusting tightly into hersâa plea, a whisper and a name. His name.
He let out a groaning exhale and pulled his fingers from her flesh, curling his palm around her thigh to spread her, pressing her fast against the tile. He fitted himself to her opening, fit his mouth to her breath, pushed deep, and then he was inside. Flush against her, fully held within her body, hot and wet as he surged.
Thoughts of fullness and need poured through the connection. Desire like sparks, and it was hers. Desire for him .
His skin sang with the brilliance of sensation and with the welcome embrace of her mind as she took him in, giving herself to him. He laid himself as bare, feeling naked and open as her presence sank through his memories and his flesh. As she clung to him and kissed the water from his face, kissed his name into his skin.
Over and over, he pressed himself flush to her, sliding hot into the closest place to home heâd ever known. And there was no such thing as too muchâno moment when she pulled back or begged for patience. No such thing as enough. The harder he pushed, the more she pulled, and he couldnât stop. He couldnât stop.
âDonât,â she breathed. âDonât stop. Keepââ
This time, as the feeling swept over him, taking him to the edge of oblivion, he recognized the heat for what it was. The building inferno in Aureliaâs body was a perfect match for his, and he drove them on until there was nothing else but to
âI donât thinkââ he started, but he didnât get far.
âI thought you wanted to wash me.â An image from his fantasy of sliding soapy fingers through her hair drifted through his vision. He hadnât realized sheâd seen it.
âI do. Butâ¦â
She drew the fabric higher, leaning in to whisper, âBe naked with me.â
Her mind, guarded as it was, teemed over with heat intense enough to match his own, thoughts of skin and touch and the completeness born from the place where their flesh and thoughts enmeshed.
His willpower crumbled. As he pulled his shirt over his head, her nimble fingers wrestled with the rest of his clothes until he was as bare as she was. He was hard, his cock aching with the need to touch and be touched. It was all so new and yet so familiar now. She took his hand and led him into the stall, then closed the door behind them.
The place had not been designed for two, the space cramped, but it was all the better for that closeness. He placed himself between her body and the spray, shielding her face from it and pressing himself against her. With his hands on her hips, he leaned in and kissed her mouth, tasting her lips and tongue. His needy flesh was trapped between them, her softness sliding against him as he lifted her up and pinned her to the tile with his hips.
And it was such a relief as she opened to him, kissing back and combing fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp and gripping tightly at his shoulder. Her mind spread just as eagerly, and the depth of her want still floored him. Made him touch harder, delve more deeply.
He slipped his fingers through the silky place between her thighs, listening to her thoughts for cues on what felt good to her. Everything felt good to himâher breath at his ear and her arms around his neck, the heat of her legs as they wrapped around his hips. As he circled higher, rubbing tighter at soft flesh and pressing his fingertips just inside, she threw her head back, bracing herself and clutching at his spine.
âGood?â he asked, his mouth open against her throat. His voice was ragged, his every instinct telling him to push inside and make her his again.
âYes.â
It was an answer to both questions, the one heâd spoken aloud and the one he hadnât. Her thoughts were all of fullness and of a hard body thrusting tightly into hersâa plea, a whisper and a name. His name.
He let out a groaning exhale and pulled his fingers from her flesh, curling his palm around her thigh to spread her, pressing her fast against the tile. He fitted himself to her opening, fit his mouth to her breath, pushed deep, and then he was inside. Flush against her, fully held within her body, hot and wet as he surged.
Thoughts of fullness and need poured through the connection. Desire like sparks, and it was hers. Desire for him .
His skin sang with the brilliance of sensation and with the welcome embrace of her mind as she took him in, giving herself to him. He laid himself as bare, feeling naked and open as her presence sank through his memories and his flesh. As she clung to him and kissed the water from his face, kissed his name into his skin.
Over and over, he pressed himself flush to her, sliding hot into the closest place to home heâd ever known. And there was no such thing as too muchâno moment when she pulled back or begged for patience. No such thing as enough. The harder he pushed, the more she pulled, and he couldnât stop. He couldnât stop.
âDonât,â she breathed. âDonât stop. Keepââ
This time, as the feeling swept over him, taking him to the edge of oblivion, he recognized the heat for what it was. The building inferno in Aureliaâs body was a perfect match for his, and he drove them on until there was nothing else but to
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