Page 74 of The Irresistible One
I carried the water into the en suite and set it on the counter, between the double sinks, and turned the shower on the hottest setting. As the room slowly began to fill with steam, I slipped out of my sneakers and socks and let my shorts fall to the tiles. When I caught my reflection in the mirror, I was wearing only my boxer briefs. And through the thin black material was a hard-on that had been nagging at me since I had seen her running toward me.
A hard-on that didn’t soften despite how badly she tested me, how she fucking challenged my patience in every possible way.
My dick was solely focused on her body—the way the spandex had hugged her curves, how it dipped into her pussy, how it had shown her beautiful nipples. It didn’t hear a single word that had come out of her mouth. Nor did she need to be in my present line of vision for my cock to thicken and grow even longer. The thought of her alone did that. The same way it caused a bead of pre-cum to bubble at my tip.
Goddamn it, I didn’t know what she had done to me, but I wanted her.
Hell, I needed her.
Submissive, tied, and fucking screaming.
My eyes closed, and in the blackness behind my lids, I envisioned her on the tantra chair in my favorite room at Lush. Her hands bound by my belt. Her legs spread. A narrow, silky fabric covering just the center of her cunt. And even though I knew every inch by heart, I wanted the panties gone. I wanted the teasing to stop. I wanted to see that fucking gorgeous pussy.
I wanted to touch it.
Smell it.
Taste it.
I wanted to lick it until she shouted my name at the top of her lungs.
My hand flattened against the countertop, the tips of my fingers nearing the edge of the sink. There was a natural sway to my body, where I shifted forward and back, as though her lips were around my crown and I was plunging down her throat. Or maybe I was positioned between those beautiful thighs, her panties ripped from her body and no longer separating us, my tip sinking in. First feeling her wetness, quickly followed by her warmth.
Fuck yes.
That was exactly what I wanted—to bury myself in her.
My other hand slid down the waist of my boxer briefs, and I moaned as I fisted the center of my shaft. I used the counter for balance and to hold my weight, and my head dropped as I took my initial stroke.
“Hell yeah.”
It wasn’t her. But it was enough.
Lube, lotion, soap bubbles—anything that slicked my skin would make this feel even better.
But I didn’t want the easy, sure-thing route.
I wanted rough.
I wanted to hunt my orgasm and chase it.
I wanted the exertion, the burn of skin on skin.
A feeling that reminded me of her behavior—a sharp, unforgiving bite that had gnawed at me too many times.
Each swivel of my hand, starting from the base and twisting to my peak, brought back memories of the anger in her expression. The fight that had come from her lips. The realization that hadn’t once weakened in her eyes.
“Fuck!” I roared.
When I picked up speed, my hips rocked faster, and with each wave of movement, she became even clearer. The arch of her hip, where it dipped to her lower back, a seamless transition to her heart-shaped ass. The softness of her skin across the center of her navel. Shit, I could even smell the lime-and-orange scent as it wafted from her skin.
My legs spread from the momentum, causing my boxer briefs to descend to my ankles.
With that freedom came more power. A stronger grip. A thrust that began with a raging inhale and a torturous exhale.
As I quieted, I could hear her sounds. A combination of words she had said the last time I was inside her. And when they were uttered in her sultry, desperate, needy voice, I bucked with control.
The same way I did now.
