Page 87 of Dirty Love

My soul.

My fucking terms.

I undress stiffly, then get in the shower. Wilson watches me. He slowly follows after grabbing a couple of towels. I hadn’t thought of that.

I’m having trouble thinking clearly about anything except this need to be scrubbed clean.

To make my own choices.

The crew stocked the shower with my preferred shampoo and conditioner, so Wilson uses both, and still we don’t talk.

There’s nothing to say.

He cascades bubbles over my body, shoulders to toes, and massages me everywhere I’m tense.

Still, nothing to say. No break in the cold anger.

When he rinses the conditioner out, it slides slick and smooth down my back, and suddenly I know exactly what I want.

He moves to turn me under the stream, to rinse my back, but I resist and take his hand instead. I show him what I want. I guide his fingers through the slickness to the seam of my ass, then I lean forward and brace my hands against the tile.

He hesitates, his fingertips pressed against my rear entrance.

But he doesn’t say anything. I don’t want him to. I just want him to take me there, to fill me up and change me. I push back and one fingertip works its way in, violating me by request. I swallow a moan and try to relax. I know how to do this. We’ve done this before.

“Shhh.” He breathes against my ear as he covers my body with his.

I shake my head. No talking.

He sinks his teeth into my neck, a gentle hold, really, but it does the job. It distracts me and then he’s inside me, one finger, then two. More liquid dribbles between my cheeks, and he works it into me, pushing me quickly past the uncomfortable burn.

Then his fingers are gone, and the thick cock that replaces them at my entrance is—oh shit, why did I want to do this, oh fuck, no…—pressing into me, and it’s so big, it’s so hard…

I tip my head back and open my mouth, but nothing comes out. No scream is big enough for this.

And behind me, Wilson is talking now. “Oh, my girl, you’re so good. Fucking hell, look at you take me. So pretty. So perfect. I know, I know, it’s hard, but you want this. Don’t you? You want to chase everything else away, and me too. Fuck. I can’t think of anything else right now. Your ass is mine, Tabitha. All mine. You own me, too. You know that? You own my heart.”

I push into him, desperate now to have him seated all the way inside me, deep and full and as stretched as I can be.

He leans over me again once he finishes working his cock into me. “Touch yourself,” he whispers. “Feel how wet you are. You’re dripping onto my balls. You like this? I love it. I love you, too.”

Panting, I reach between my legs and he’s right. I’m so slick it’s on my thighs, and all I have to do is graze my clit and the first tremor of an orgasm threatens.

He swears under his breath. “I felt that inside you, Tabitha. Fucking hell. Do that again.”

I stroke a tentative half-circle around my clit and jerk forward against the tile wall from the intensity of it. He follows me, gripping my hips. I start to shake, and he eases out an inch, then pulses back into me. Another thrust, another shivering swipe of my clit. My legs start shaking and I moan his name, then it’s all over.

He fucks into me again, and my climax begins. It’s unlike anything I’ve experienced before. I swear it starts in my brain, like an explosion at the base of my skull, then spirals down through my body and wraps around him, deep inside me, triggering more little bombs that go off down my legs, through my belly, and last in my clit, that one so bright and intense that my eyes cross and my words slur together.

Wilson holds me through it, then eases out of me, letting me down to the shower floor. He’s still hard and swollen. I watch in awe as he lathers up, then falls to his knees in front of me as he jerks himself hard and fast.

“Where do you want it?” he asks, his eyes bright and fevered.

That’s easy. I slither in front of him, and rub my hand over my belly. “Right here,” I whisper.

—forty-one—

Wilson

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