Page 50 of Body Shot

“Yes.” I sigh. “I never knew a shower could be so much fun.”

I feel his smile. “Another pleasure.”

“Can I washyou?”

He pauses, and when he answers his voice is rough. “Hell yeah.”

He moves us again to rinse suds from my skin and I take the bottle of body wash from him and pour some in my palm. “You’re always doing things to make me feel good. I want to make you feel good.”

“Have at me, I’m all yours.”

I smile and begin to smooth my palms over him, following them with my eyes to not only explore him with touch but with sight. I slick my hands over strong shoulders, rounded biceps, sinewy forearms. I coast over the hard ridges of his collarbones, down over his pecs, then lower over his ridged abs, marveling at the defined muscles there. My gaze drops lower still, to the thrust of his thick cock. I long to touch that too, but cast a quick glace up at him through my eyelashes.

“Touch me,” he says in a husky voice. “Wrap your hands around my cock. I’m dying for you to touch me like that.”

Okay, then. The soap keeps my hands slick and I stroke him up and down, watching like it’s my own personal porn movie, only better, because I get to feel him too—the heat, the firm, dense flesh, the soft skin.

His groan encourages me and I dip lower with my other hand to cup his balls, gently rolling them as I continue to slide my hand up and down his shaft.

He covers that hand with his. At first I think he means to stop me, but he says, “Harder.” He squeezes my hand tighter around him. “Like that. Fuck, Hayden. Oh yeah.”

We play longer, learning each other’s bodies, teasing and tormenting until finally Beck says, “Damn, baby, gotta be inside that tight pussy. Like, now.”

I’ve certainly never had sex standing up and have no idea how this will go. Again, Beck takes charge, turning me to face the wall, bending me over. “Hands on the wall. Legs apart.”

I feel him move away, and glance over my shoulder to see him leaning out of the tub. When he straightens he has a condom in his hand.

He suits up, bends his knees, and then pushes up into me. I arch my back and cry out at the pinch of pain, then the intense fullness.

“Okay, baby?”

“Yes. God, yes.”

He holds my hips, helping me move on his cock as he slides in and out. I flatten my hands on the wet wall, pushing my hips back at him with each stroke, wet hair streaming down my back.

“Oh yeah. Push that hot little ass back against me.” To my shock he gives my ass a little smack. Amazingly, it feels good, an added sensation to the buzzing tension coiling up inside me. “Perfect little ass. Love watching my cock disappear inside you and these sweet cheeks.” His strokes grow harder, faster, nearly lifting me off her feet. His grip tightens, then one hand slides around over my damp curls and between my thighs, finding the spot I desperately need to be touched.

“Oh yeah,” I cry, almost on a sob.

“Make you come,” he growls in my ear, bending over me. “Wanna feel that pussy come so hard.”

“Close . . . oh God, that feels good . . .” My orgasm explodes, so fast it’s almost disappointing because everything he’s doing feels so good I want it to go on forever. I can’t stop the noises that leave my throat as my body convulsed around him.

“Beautiful. Goddamn, Hayden . . .” Then he pounds into me once, twice, and goes still, the rough curls of his pubic hair pressed against my ass as his cock spasms inside me. I tighten around him, deliberately squeezing, and it feels like another orgasm rolls through me.

He slides both arms around me, holding me tight to his heaving chest, both of us wet, dripping, panting. My legs feel so weak I’m glad he’s holding me up.

“Holy fuck,” he mutters. “You just keep amazing me.”

I swallow thickly, not sure what exactly I’ve done to amaze him since he fucked me senseless.

“Getting you all waterlogged,” he says. “We’d better get out of here.”

He stretches a hand to turn off the tap, then helps me straighten. The curtain is whisked open with a scrape of the rings against the rod, and then he wraps me in a towel again, this time one of my own, the thick taupe towels Carrie gave me last year, so much more luxurious than the basic towels I buy myself. Now I’m grateful for them, my body sensitive to their plush softness, attuned to the sensuality of being dried off. Of course it’s even more pleasurable to have Beck doing it, smiling down at me with hot, dark eyes.

“More craziness,” I murmur. “Sex in the shower.”

“Babe. If you think sex in the shower is crazy, we’ve got a lot of dirty sex acts to get to.”

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