Page 91 of Changing the Playbook
She cuts me off by pushing me against the tile. The cold shock against my back contrasts sharply with her heat pressing against my front. “Everything,” she says, water running over her lips. “I want to try everything with you, Mike, until you break.”
“We’ve got all night.”
“Good.” She grabs the shower gel, squirting a generous amount into her palm. The scent of her body wash—that same clean floral that always clings to her skin—fills the space as she spreads it across my chest in slow, deliberate circles. “Better be a promise.”
Instead of answering, I drop to my knees. The tile bites into my kneecaps, but her gasp makes every discomfort worthwhile. Water cascades over us as I press my mouth to her inner thigh, taking my time, reacquainting myself with every sensitive spot.
“Mike, please…”
“Patience.” I nip at the crease where thigh meets hip, feel her whole body jerk.
Her frustrated whimper becomes a broken moan when I finally give her what she wants. One long stroke of my tongue against her clit, and her hands tangle in my wet hair hard enough to sting. She tastes like heaven and sin and every dream that’s kept me awake these past weeks.
“There,” she gasps, hips rolling against my mouth. “Right there, don’t?—”
I don’t stop. I feast on her, using every trick I learned that first night plus everything I’ve imagined since. When I slide two fingers inside her, curling them just right, her knees buckle. Myfree hand pins her hips to the wall while I continue my assault, feeling her clench around my fingers.
“The vibrator,” she manages between ragged breaths. “Want to show you how?—”
My hand finds it on the shelf where she must have placed it. Waterproof, because of course Sophie thinks of everything. The buzz barely reaches my ears over the water, but the vibration against my palm promises so much more than that.
“Show me,” I say against her skin. “Show me exactly how you use it when you think of me.”
She looks down at me, water clinging to her lashes, cheeks flushed with arousal and maybe embarrassment. But then she takes the toy and brings it to her clit. Her eyes flutter closed and I can see stress and fatigue flee her body instantly.
“Eyes open.” The command comes out rougher than intended. “I want to see you.”
She forces her eyes open, holding my gaze as she circles the vibrator in tight patterns. I match her rhythm with my fingers, learning what makes her breath catch, what makes her whole body tremble. The trust in her eyes—letting me see her like this, vulnerable and chasing pleasure—tightens something in my chest.
“I think about you,” she admits, words tumbling between moans. “When I use this alone. Think about that night, about your mouth, your hands…”
“Tell me more.”
“I think about…” Her teeth catch her lower lip.
“Tell me.”
“Think about you bending me over my desk. Making me stay quiet while you—fuck?—”
Her confession cuts off as she comes apart above me. I watch, mesmerized, as pleasure washes over her face. The vibrator slips from her fingers, clattering against the tile. Neither of us movesto retrieve it, although I’ve got the funny feeling we’re not done with it yet.
I stand slowly, knees protesting, and catch her as she sways. “That was…”
“The beginning,” she says breathlessly, then her hand wraps around my cock.
Before I can respond, she’s spinning me so my back hits the wall again. The tile’s cold bite fades against the heat of her exploration. She takes her time, hands mapping every ridge of muscle while her mouth follows the path of water down my chest.
“I’ve imagined this too,” she says, stroking me with a grip that blurs my vision. “Wondered what you’d look like when you completely let go.”
“Sophie…”
“Show me.” She steps back just enough to maintain eye contact while keeping her hand moving. “I want to watch you lose control.”
There’s something intensely erotic about her bold demand, the way she studies me like I’m some masterpiece she’s trying to memorize. I wrap my hand around hers, guiding her rhythm, unable to look away from the hunger in her eyes as she works.
“What are you thinking about?” Her voice drops low.
“You.” The word scrapes from my throat. “Always you.”
