Page 100 of Sexting the Boss
I think I sob his name. I think I lose time.
He stands back up, eyes dark, lips wet, cock still rock-hard between us. He crowds me back against the tile, his hands firm and sure as if my body belongs exactly where he puts it. The water keeps running, steam clinging to the air, beads sliding down his chest and dripping from his jaw. He looks unreal like this. Solid. Intent. Still holding himself back even now.
“You okay?” he asks, voice low, eyes searching my face.
I nod. “I need you.”
That’s all it takes.
He lifts me and sets me with my back to the wall and one leg hooked around his hip. He slides into me, careful, deep enough that my breath stutters, and then he stills, forehead resting against mine like he’s grounding both of us.
“Tell me if you need me to stop,” he murmurs.
“I won’t.”
He starts moving. Controlled. Deep. Each thrust measured like he’s memorized my body and refuses to rush it. The water hits my shoulders and runs down between us, slicking everything, heat on heat, pressure building fast again even though I swear I’m empty.
I’m not.
He reaches for the shower head again and angles it just right, the spray pulsing over my clit while he keeps fucking me in that slow, devastating rhythm. I cry out and clutch his shoulders, my nails digging in as my body reacts without asking me.
“That’s it,” he says, teeth at my jaw. “You’re so responsive. Always were.”
I come hard, my body locking around him, a sharp, breath-stealing release that leaves me shaking. He keeps moving through it, holding me steady until the tremors ease and my breath comes back in ragged pulls.
“You still with me?” he asks.
“Barely,” I laugh, wrecked.
He shifts us again, turning me so I’m bent slightly forward, hands braced on the wall, his body close behind me. He slides back in, deeper from this angle, and my knees nearly buckle.
“Oh—fuck?—”
He groans like it hurts him too.
One hand stays on my hip, anchoring me. The other slides under my belly, protective without saying it, reminding me he’s thinking about everything even while he loses control.
He thrusts deep. The water sprays over my back now, slicking my skin, steam rising around us like the world’s narrowed to this space and nothing else exists.
My body tightens again, another orgasm building fast and unforgiving.
“Ethan—I’m?—”
“I know,” he says, breath rough. “Give it to me.”
I shatter around him, a full-body release that leaves me gasping, forehead pressed to the tile, my voice breaking on his name. I feel him tense, hear his breath go sharp, and I know he’s right on the edge now too.
He pulls out just long enough to turn me back toward him, lifts me again, and slides into me once more, this time without slowing.
His restraint finally snaps.
He fucks me hard, deep, chasing his own release now, hips snapping against mine, water slapping against our skin. I cling to him, legs wrapped tight, mouth at his shoulder as his control finally gives.
“Lila—”
“Come for me.”
He pulls out and comes on my flushed skin with a broken groan, filling me, holding me tight as his body shakes. I feel every pulse, every second of it, heat spreading low and heavy and intimate in a way that makes my chest ache.
