Page 62 of Barre Fight
“Mmm.” He pulled her hand from his hair and planted a few kisses on the inside of her wrist. “How do you feel about shower foreplay, followed by bed sex?”
“I feel very good about that,” she grinned .
“Alright, then,” he nodded, and he stood and scooped her back up and carried her toward the bathroom, taking a moment to press her back against a wall on the way so she could feel just how hard he was under his jeans.
“Justin,” she breathed, relishing the friction as she ground against him. “Are you going to carry me everywhere tonight?”
“If you want me to.” He grinned, and then without waiting for her answer, he carried her into the bathroom. He set her down on the counter and turned on the water, then started taking off his clothes.
For a moment, all she could do was watch as Justin Winters threw aside his jumper, then his shoes and socks, then—her mouth watered—unbuckled his belt and pulled off his pants. By the time he was naked, steam was billowing out of thelarge glass-doored shower, and Ivy could feel her entire body vibrating with need.
Justin tested the water with one hand, the other hand lightly wrapped around his stiff, heavy-looking cock. He looked over his shoulder at her, still sitting on the counter, still fully clothed.
“Are you gonna come in?” he asked slyly, as if he knew damn well that she’d lost the ability to think, let alone move from where she sat, frozen motionless but overheating. When she said nothing, he stepped into the shower and tipped his head back under the stream and let out a sound that was half sigh and half moan, and Ivy was still glued to the counter, panties damp and nipples hard, seriously reconsidering her position on shower sex.
She hopped down and shed her clothes as fast as she could without taking her eyes off him, and by the time she pulled off her glasses and set them on the counter, they were completely fogged up. The steam wrapped itself around her, settling on her hot, pulsing skin as she stepped into the shower, and then Justin’s arms were wrapped around her, pulling her under the water.
His lips found hers again, and his tongue delved between them slowly, carefully. Like they had all night to map each other’s mouths, to catalog the slide of tongue against tongue. Warm water slid over Ivy’s shoulders and down her back, chased by Justin’s slick fingertips, which traced over her ribcage and into the swoop of her waist, before settling on the flare of her hips.
They stood like that for a long moment, getting reacquainted with each other’s bodies after a long day apart. Well, Justin was getting reacquainted with her body. Ivy had already sat through twenty minutes of Justin, shirtless and shining, dancing better than she’d ever seen him. She was well-acquainted with the shift of his back muscles under his skin,with the way he made the most impossible movements look effortless and refined. On stage, he was powerful, graceful. But sitting in the darkened theater tonight, she couldn’t forget the sight of him on his knees in her room, wrecked. All that power and grace obliterated by blissful suspense and explosive release. The memory had been enough to make her blush and buzz in her seat—but here in the shower, with his taut skin slippery under her hands, the memory was a feeble imitation of what she wanted. Because what she wanted was to wreck him over and over.
Ivy kissed him hard, nipping again at his bottom lip and steering him slightly, out from under the water and towards the tiled wall. He let out a surprised gasp-grunt as his skin met the cool ceramic, and his hand slid down to grasp at her ass. She half thought he was going to lift her up again—a terrible idea on wet tiles. Besides, now that she had him where she wanted him, she had plans. Plans he almost obliterated when he brought one hand up to her breast and teased her nipple with his thumb and forefinger. He growled in satisfaction when she whimpered at the touch, and she let her head fall back, breaking the kiss and gazing up drunkenly at the swirling steam as he circled the tight, tender bud.
“I liked making you come with all your clothes on,” he said over the sound of the water. “But I like it a lot better with them off.”
He lowered his head, clearly intending to get his mouth on her other nipple, but she summoned her reflexes and put a hand firmly on his chest to stop him. He looked up and met her eyes, and she gave him a minute shake of her head. He looked slightly concerned, but she arched an eyebrow playfully, and a split second later he understood. He watched as she knelt down, kissing his sternum, his obliques, the sharp cut of muscle at the top of his thigh, and she made him wait, enjoying the way hisentire body seemed attuned to her mouth. Anticipating the moment when she’d reduce his power and grace to a wet, desperate mess.
“Jesus, Ivy,” he moaned, when she wrapped her hand around his cock, sliding it up and down a few times as she settled herself on her knees, water running down her back. She wouldn’t last long on the hard tiles, but she intended to make every second of it count.
Ivy teased him with a few long, slow pumps, holding his gaze through the steam, and enjoying the way his jaw clenched as he resisted the urge to thrust his hips. Even from here, she could see that his eyes had gone dark with need, and she knew that if she put her fingers to his wrist, she’d find his pulse thundering under his skin. Instead, she braced her hand against his hip and leaned forward, never taking her eyes off his as she took the head of his cock between her lips.
“Fuck,” he gritted out, and she wanted to bottle the sound. She pulled back and worked his hard, slick cock with her hand again, and this time she didn’t even get a word, just the kind of desperate, frustrated rumble through his chest that was becoming both familiar and addictive.
When she took mercy on him and slid her mouth back over his cock, taking more of him this time, but not all, she was rewarded with a string of profanities. When she swirled her tongue around him, flicking it over the head with the kind of delicacy and deviousness he’d shown her clit their first night together, the curses disintegrated into a scramble of gasps and garbled vowels. And when she took all of him and began to slide her mouth and hand steadily along his hard, slick length, all she heard from him was the sound of her own name growled over and over again into the rippling steam.
“You have to stop, or I’m gonna—” he groaned after a few minutes, grasping her shoulder and grinding the back of hishead against the wall. Ivy’s knees said a quick prayer of thanks as he helped her to her feet and pulled hard against him, holding her tight and staring down at her for a long, breathless moment. Her clit throbbed when he ran his hands feverishly up her body, taking her face in both hands and claiming her mouth with a hard, demanding kiss, his cock pressing against her belly. As she kissed him back, Ivy groped for the faucet handle and turned the water off. Shower foreplay was over.
Justin seized a towel and wrapped it around her, and hastily dried himself as she did the bare minimum to wipe her limbs down and squeeze water out of her hair, feeling even as she did that her pussy was wet and desperately ready.
Without speaking, she left the bathroom and pulled the condoms out of her purse, tearing open the box and setting it on the nightstand within easy reach of the bed, then settling herself against the pillows, the bedding cool against her skin. A second later, Justin stood in the doorway of the bathroom, steam billowing out behind his gloriously naked, superbly muscular body.
“Do you have any idea what you look like right now?” he asked, leaning against the door jamb, the corded muscles of his forearm flexing as he palmed his cock. He would have looked almost casual if not for the intense heat in his eyes as he gazed across the room at her. The bedroom was dim, and the light from the bathroom played on his skin, wrapping itself around the planes and angles of his body, reflecting off the dampness that still clung to him so that the curves of his muscles seemed to glow.
Ivy had spent enough years recovering from ballet to know how the training could damage a body, how it could shred tendons and reshape a person’s entire bone structure for the worse. Em had ranted about it to her on many occasions. But in this moment, Ivy couldn’t help but be grateful for every last pliéand every single port de bras that had shaped this man’s body into the masterpiece it was. The sight of him made her wish she were a painter instead of a writer.
“What do I look like right now?” she managed to ask. Her voice sounded breathy, like she was trying to seduce him, when really she was trying not to explode from the need to be touched by him.
He walked towards the bed, all shifting muscle and glistening skin, and lay down beside her, leaving a few maddening inches of bedspread between them and keeping his hands off her. She watched him run his eyes over her body, one of his hands between them on the bedspread but unmoving as he took her in slowly, inch by searing inch.
“You look like pure sex. Naked and flushed, hair all wet and tangled on this perfectly tidy bed,” he murmured. He cast his eyes down between her legs and hummed in low satisfaction. “The rest of you all wet, too.”
Shefeltlike pure sex. If he didn’t touch her soon she was going to scream. He was breathing heavily, every exhale tightening the hard grid of muscle of his abdomen, and this close, she could see the bead of liquid pooling at the head of his cock. She looked down at it, then glanced up to meet his eyes and licked her lips. He groaned and she grinned at the victory, and then he was kissing her, rolling on top of her and settling his weight against her, his hard cock pressing against her belly as his mouth slanted over hers and his tongue swept into her mouth. Ivy wasted no time wrapping one of her legs around his hips, binding him against her and swallowing the sound he made as he felt her slickness against his cock. She had never wanted anyone or anything as badly as she wanted Justin Winters in this moment, wanted his skin on hers, his body inside hers.
She reached for the nightstand and fumbled with the box before managing to tear off a condom, distracted byJustin’s mouth, which was trailing down her neck, his teeth scraping against the tender skin of her collarbone in a way that made her hips buck against him. When he heard the crinkle of the foil, he eased himself off her and kneeled between her legs, his hair soggy and askew and his breath sawing frantically in and out of his throat. If Ivy looked like pure sex, she wasn’t the only one.
She tore the packet open and reached down to roll the condom down his cock, enjoying the moan that escaped his clenched jaw as she stroked it down and squeezed the base. He didn’t take his eyes off her as she gave his cock a few more torturous pumps, just because she could. But then he wrapped his fingers around her wrist and pulled her hand away, then leant forward until her shoulders met the bed again and his cock was inches from her wet, aching entrance.
He stared down at her, eyes hot and intent. He looked like a man who planned to fuck her until she forgot not only her large and impressive vocabulary, but her own middle name. And she, Ivy Edwina Page, wanted nothing more. She’d never liked her middle name much anyway.
