Page 87 of Second Chance Fate

“Absolutely.” He grinned the bad boy grin that promised a lot more than supervision. “It’s my husbandly duty.”

At the mention of his husbandly duty, her sex clenched eagerly. She felt her pulse thrum in her throat as he tugged his shirt over his head, revealing a body that looked to be sculpted by manual labor and clean living. Muted golden light spilled from the sconce above the mirror, highlighting the curves and contours of his toned physique, casting shadows along the ripples in his chest and abs. He held her gaze, exuding masculinity, strength, and the sort of dominance that had her wanting to submit. His jeans followed, pooling at his ankles before being swept aside. His crooked smile held no trace ofhesitation as he reached out and gently undid the knot holding her towel in place.

The terrycloth dropped to the tile floor with a soft shush, leaving her exposed and suddenly vulnerable under his gaze. His eyes traveled down her body—he looked at her as though she were both familiar and entirely new to him in a way that had her feeling both safe and illicit. His hands were warm and calloused but gentle as they came to rest on her hips, thumbs brushing lightly along the ridges of her pelvis.

She expected him to seize control—to take her in some bold, domineering way like a caveman, primal and animalistic—but instead he stilled, searching her eyes for any flicker of doubt. He wasn’t going to find any, not even a hint.

The glass mirror had already begun to fog up, and the condensation started to bead on every surface as he guided them into the shower. The water beckoned—hot enough to sting at first touch but soothing once acclimated. As they stepped beneath the spray together, droplets made rivers down their bodies and puddled at their feet.

Steam billowed around them, softening the edges of everything—except sensation. Caleb cupped her face and pressed their foreheads together, his breath hot and uneven against her cheek. The water rushed over their bodies, but it was nothing compared to the flood of adrenaline and need lighting up every nerve ending. She felt herself tremble—not from a chill, not from fear, but from anticipation that gathered tight between her legs and unfurled through her core.

Taylor watched as Caleb lathered soap between his large, capable hands and then went to work in slow, purposeful caresses, massaging the suds along her arms and shoulders, down her back, and over her hips and backside, before he shifted so he was standing behind her. He then snaked his hands aroundto her belly and up her torso, stopping just below the crescent of her under-boob.

He pulled her to him; her shoulder blades pressed to his chest and his erection nestled against her lower back as she leaned into his body. Her chin dipped as she watched him cup her breasts in his palms and then tease the puckered peaks of her nipples, pinching and rolling them between his thumbs and forefingers. His chest vibrated with a deep moan, and she felt his cock swell and flex against her backside.

As much as she loved that Caleb took his time with her, that he seduced her with sensual foreplay, she wanted more than tenderness tonight. A wild urgency took her over, and she pulled away from him and then turned to face him.

When she lifted her gaze, she read the confusion in his furrowed brow before it even formed into a question. With a half-smile that felt foreign on her lips but thrilling all the same, she pressed a hand to his chest and pushed him back against the tile wall. The movement startled him into stillness for a moment—then he caught on quickly, watching with darkening eyes as she knelt before him on the wet tile.

His mouth opened as if he was going to say something—a word of caution or gratitude or both—but the sound unraveled into a low moan as she curled her fingers tightly around his shaft, then covered his engorged tip with her lips. The smooth, taut skin of his shaft slid between her lips as she pulled him into the wet suction of her mouth. She stroked him with one hand while the other gripped his thigh, feeling the muscles tense and release under her fingertips.

He looked down at her, eyes glazed with desire, watching as he disappeared between her lips over and over again. He placed his hand on the back of her head, and his breath hitched as he guided her toward him to take him deeper. She gagged as the head of his crown hit the back of her throat. He swelled inher mouth and responded with a guttural groan and staggered breath, sending a vibration pulsing between her legs.

His response emboldened and aroused her. She relaxed her throat as his fingertips gripped her scalp, and he pushed her head with enough force that she gagged slightly. Pressure built low in her belly as she practically swallowed him whole, taking him deeper than she thought was possible, causing her to choke before she moved her mouth back up his shaft and curled her tongue in a swirl at the crown of his head and then repeated the action.

She lost herself in the rhythm of her sucking and stroking, loving the sensation of him growing larger and larger inside her mouth until she could barely even breathe. Just when she saw a vein in the base of his shaft spurt with release, he picked her up from her knees and spun her around so she was facing the shower wall.

Her hands splayed on the marble slab, and she felt her legs being spread apart by Caleb’s. His hands tilted her hips up, and she felt the pressure of his mushroom head against her opening.

His lips brushed her ear as his gravelly voice gritted out, “That felt good, too good. I want to be inside of you when I come. Is that what you want?”

She loved his voice. It turned her on so much. She’d never known that was a thing she liked, but his voice did things to her. It didn’t even have to be particularly dirty talk, although she was pretty sure she’d be a fan of that, too. But just hearing the deep, rough sound of his voice sent shockwaves of bliss through her.

As much as she wished she could return the favor and speak, her throat was clogged with lust. Instead, her response came out in a whisper: “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

Caleb had never felt this level of connection with another person. He and Taylor hadn’t even been married two weeks, but he truly couldn’t remember what his life was without her in it. He’d spent the past few years watching his friends fall in love around him, and he had started to believe that it would never happen for him. But all this time, she was there. If he’d known all he had to do was wait, he would have gladly done it every day without complaint. This truly was a lesson to him that no one knows what is right around the corner. It seemed silly to him now that he’d even considered settling down with anyone else.

“Please,” she begged as her back arched.

Her movement caused the head of his cock to nudge past the resistance of her slit. Once he felt that, he couldn’t hold back any longer. He sank into her slowly, stretching her open, until his hips were flush against her backside and he filled her completely, his cock completely surrounded by her slick, tight heat. He froze, staying completely still as he lowered his forehead so it was resting between her shoulder blades before nuzzling it into the side of her neck. He kept one hand holding her hip while the other was braced flat on the marble tile.

Every muscle in his thighs and stomach tensed as he fought to remain perfectly still, letting them both acclimate to the sensation—her to the fullness of him inside, and Caleb to the overwhelming urge to drive into her with a savage, primal force that would cause him to go over the edge in less than a single pump. His heart pounded wildly in his chest as his length pulsed hard and hot with need, buried within her slippery folds.

When a whimper escaped Taylor’s throat and her hips rocked back against him, Caleb began to move, slow at first—testing her,teasing her, letting every inch of him drag and sink in again until she arched into the push with a desperate whimper. When he felt her knees buckle, his fingertips dug into her hips to hold her up. The pounding water from the showerhead was white noise, but it couldn’t drown out the slick rhythm of their bodies or the ragged, needy breaths that echoed off the marble slabs. Taylor gripped the edge of the soap ledge for leverage, her knuckles straining pale white.

The slap of skin on skin grew louder as he quickened his pace. Each thrust into her snug canal sent tiny aftershocks rippling up his spine; each retreat only served to build the pressure of his release. He was lost in her—lost in the way her body clamped down around him each time he bottomed out, squeezing him tighter than a fist.

“You feel so good,” he growled against her ear.

She answered with a whimpered moan and tried to rock her hips onto him harder. He could feel the tremors building in Taylor—the staccato tremble of her thighs, the way her breath came in ragged gasps. He found himself teetering on the brink and was not about to go over the edge without her.

Caleb’s hand slid down her stomach and slipped boldly between her thighs, his palm splaying across her mound as his fingers sought out her most sensitive place. The rough pad of his finger grazed her clit in a slow, deliberate circle—once, twice, a third time. He was trying to draw the experience out, but it became damn near impossible as she clenched around him in response to his touch, the involuntary spasms of pleasure milking him.

A guttural moan tore from Caleb’s throat, echoing through the steamy haze of the shower. He barely recognized the sound as his own—it was too primitive, too raw, too feral. The sound that bounced off the shower walls and mingled with the hiss ofwater and their ragged breaths and the slap of flesh meeting flesh.

He held her harder, hips grinding in time with the frantic beat of his pulse, sweat slick beneath the spray even as cooling water sluiced it away. With every thrust he could feel the pressure mounting inside him—a wild energy that threatened to spill over with each clench of her body around his cock. The sensation was dizzying, white-hot; it was all he could do to keep his movements controlled, to stave off the explosion he so badly craved just a few seconds longer.

But she made it impossible. His name was on her lips as she begged him not to stop in a whispered plea. His middle finger began to flick a little faster over her pleasure nub, and as he fucked her harder, he whispered how good she felt, how tight she was, against her ear. That was all it took for her to come apart. He felt it in the way her muscles went rigid, then spasmed around him in uneven waves. Her entire body went from bowstring-taut to shaking with need.

---