Page 87 of Always Alchemy

‘Fuck. I’ll never get over that,’ he says, testing the spray against his hand. ‘Hottest moment of my life.’

‘Try getting railed to within an inch of your life by your gorgeous boss on the floor of your shower,’ I retort. ‘That was a game-changer.’

He grins at me and steps closer, tugging his shorts down with one hand over his painful-looking erection. ‘Christ, I love you so fucking much, Mrs French. Nice tits.’

I laugh and throw my arms around his neck, pulling my favourite face in the world down for a sweaty (at his end) kiss. ‘Nice dick,’ I whisper against his lips. ‘I hope you know what to do with it. And I love you, too.’

‘I have a fair idea,’ he says, closing the gap even further and pressing his hardness against my stomach. And then he’s sluicing us down with the warm spray, water coursing over my nipples and between our bodies.

I pump some shower gel into my hands and get to work washing the sweat off my husband’s gorgeous body. He takes a step back and lets me work. He knows how much I love doing this. I’m still his little slave girl in all the best ways. I glide my hands lovingly over glorious hard muscle and he flicks the shower head this way and that, washing off the suds between teasing my nipples.

When I slip my hand under his dick and soap up hisballs, we both groan. This guy’s definitely building up to a good release, and my need’s building too. Quickly. I slide my soapy hand up and down his rigid length, loving the impossible hardness in my grip. Our eyes are locked. His breathing is growing more ragged.

‘I need you,’ my husband says in that low growl that undoes me every time.

I reach over and turn off the handheld shower. ‘I want it hard,’ I tell him.

He moves us so we’re fully under the torrent and kisses me ravenously, his tongue devouring mine as his hands glide over my body. Then he’s grabbing me under my bum and hiking me up so my back is against the smooth pebbled wall.

I don’t need to be asked. I wrap my legs and arms tightly around him. Instantly, he’s nudging at my entrance, and I shimmy in his arms in my desperation to get his cock inside me. I drop my forehead to his and revel in the unique sensation that is being filled up by Zach French.

It’s indescribable. I’m beyond words as I struggle to accommodate my husband. I bear down as much as I can, and we stay like that for a moment. Utterly still. His dick pulsing with need inside me. Our kisses slow and greedy and sensual. The water pouring over us drowns out every other sound except for our breaths and the relentless hum of the cicadas.

Then he says, ‘Hold on tight, sweetheart,’ and I do, and he begins to move inside me, pushing me up against the wall so he can thrust up into me again and again and again, and fuck me, it’s incredible. I cling to him and take the punishing drives that have me winding higher and higher.

It’s so intense. Being here with my family in this paradise. Having my husband cage me in like this, the lookin his eyes telling me nothing else matters for him in this moment but me, and the growing harshness of his thrusts telling me how badly he needs this.

Needs me.

I need him too. This man has given me the world, and still he won’t stop giving and giving, and my heart is so full it could explode. I don’t know how anyone can take this much happiness. This much pleasure.

I don’t know how I ever, ever got this lucky.

‘I love you so much,’ I murmur against his beautiful mouth, my heart full and eyes wet and voice shaky. And it seems my words move him, too, because he pushes up more powerfully than ever.

‘Fuck, I love you too, sweetheart,’ he says, one hand wrapping around the back of my neck. ‘You close?’

Closedoesn’t even describe it. The combination of sensation and emotion is so intoxicating I’m barely functioning. Because this is how it always is with my husband. When we’re together like this, it isn’t just about orgasms. It’s fucking transcendent.

Obviously, I’m in no position to articulate anything like that in this moment, so I just nod madly and whimper, ‘Yes.Yes.’

I’m on a precipice. Zach’s thrusts are feeding the ache that’s building and threatening to morph into something exquisite. Something I can’t possibly withstand.

So I don’t.

I give myself over to the feeling of my husband showing me how much he loves me. I allow the heat to spread across my body. I let my head slump forward, and I slurp at the skin of his shoulder.

I let him do all the work, basically.

I take and I take and the pleasure grows and shimmers.

And then it detonates deep inside me, in a place only Zach can help me reach, and I bite down on his shoulder as I attempt to muffle my cries, grabbing furiously at his soaking hair as I writhe and convulse in his arms.

He follows me right over the edge with a low roar, pressing me up against the wall as he goes rigid and comes.

And comes.

When we’re done, I lift my head with difficulty and let it drop back against the wall. My husband is gazing at me, those astonishingly blue eyes still glassy from his orgasm but shining with unconditional love.

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