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“My shirt—” was all I got out before his lips smothered my words. Fuck the shirt. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled his body into mine. Bare flesh rubbed together, and I knew I needed this man more than I needed to breathe.
Strong hands gripped the sides of my head, holding me firm, as his tongue delved deeper into my mouth.
“What about—?”
“Let them listen,” he whispered before diving in again.
Well, hell, I thought, he was our team leader. Who was I to argue if he wanted to put on a show?
He shoved me into the bathroom, tearing off my shirt and hurling it like it had offended him. Before I could think, he had the tub filling and water gushing in the sink.
Steam billowed. The mirror fogged. His fingers tore at my trousers, which then found the floor almost before I knew I was naked.
Thomas didn’t wait for me to help, for my hands to undo his buttons, for me to enjoy the ritual of disrobing him. He undid his belt, climbed out of his pants, and growled as his teeth sank into the soft bits of my neck.
Stars bloomed in my eyes, and we’d barely begun.
His hardness, already leaking, smeared against my skin, pressed against my own growing erection.
I shivered as he trailed fingers down my arms and squeezed my hands, his mouth returning to my lips, his tongue to my mouth. The hardness of his muscles always drove me crazy, but something in the primal need wafting off him threatened my very sanity.
“I need you,” he groaned. “I need all of you.”
“I’m yours, babe. Take whatever you want.”
He didn’t have to be told twice.
We stepped into the filling tub, heat traveling from the water up my legs. He spun me to face away, then splashed to his knees. My cheeks were spread before I could register what he was doing. His tongue found my hole a heartbeat later.
“Oh, shit,” slipped out.
He speared into me.
My whole body tingled.
Lick after lick, stab after stab, wetness and heat drove sensations I craved throughout every part of my body. His scruff, usually too stiff to feel good, ground against my tender skin. I pressed backward, begging him for more, willing him deeper. His beard would leave its mark. It would claim me. I couldn’t feel it enough.
His hand reached up and gripped me. My cock leaped at his touch.
He pulled my balls down, gripping my base, pulling the skin taut.
My own passion leaked out.
His tongue wiggled back and forth, in and out.
The stars twinkled.
Somewhere between the bedroom and bathroom, my sneaky partner had grabbed lube or gel or hand lotion—I couldn’t tell, but it was slick.
Pleasantly, perfectly, silky smooth.
A finger replaced his tongue, and I forgot where we were.
“Oh, fucking fuck!”
He curled his evil digit, angling it so it struckthatspot deep within, the one that caused mountains to form and continents to shift.
“Oh, God!” My palms slapped the tiled wall. I braced myself against it, warring pleasure and pain, as he opened me up and readied my body for the rest of him.