Page 103 of Becoming Us

He kissed me, soft and lingering, and I melted into him. His hands slid from my neck to my waist, then under my thighs, all while his tongue played havoc with my sanity.

He nudged me forward. “Hop on.”

Smiling, I looped my arms around his neck and laughed as he lifted me off the counter. My legs locked around his hips, and he navigated us on instinct alone—we never broke the kiss.

Atty undressed while I got the water running. Once we stepped under the spray—somewhat—we both sighed. He felt so good in there. Then he started washing me, his fingers in my hair, rubbing smooth circles. Next came the shower gel, and he didn’t miss a single spot, and I do mean not asinglespot.

“You’re taking this showering-together thing very seriously.” I moaned when his soapy fingers slid between my cheeks.

“It’s a good excuse.” His voice was rough with want.

I grabbed the body wash behind me. “For what?”

“To touch you.” He cupped my balls, rolling them in his palm before wrapping his hand around my already steel-hard dick.

Well, I mean, if that was what we were doing…

I slicked his lower back and let my hands roam, smiling as the muscles in his ass flexed beneath my touch. His whole body was a fucking masterpiece, but this part—this part was something else.

When we had first started dating, he’d looked more like a soccer player—lean, strong, legs built for speed. But now? He’d thickened in all the right places, bordering on rugby territory, and I was so fucking into it.

I palmed his firm ass and marveled that even with my fingers spread wide, I couldn’t cover the whole thing. I wanted to sink my teeth into it.

“Turn around,” he whispered against my temple.

I reluctantly let go and stepped out of the spray, leaning my forehead against the cool tiles. “Just in case this is where this is going—bath products are a poor substitute for lube.”

Atty chuckled, pressing himself against my back, his body heat sinking into my skin. “That’s not going to be an issue.”

“Wh—”

He dropped into a crouch behind me, his thighs bracketing mine. “Push your hips out.”

I did as he asked. “Don’t you mean my—oh fuck.” I groaned as his mouth closed over the tight ring of muscle. He licked once, then followed with a slow suck.

“Oh my fucking g-god.”

It was relentless. Lick. Suck. Start again. His mouth was hot, insistent, almost reverent. My thighs were already trembling, pleasure winding tight in my gut. He spread me wider, his thumbs anchoring me, and leaned in deeper. The tip of his tongue pressed with intent. The pressure, the way his breath ghosted over me—it was fucking torture. Gorgeous, glorious torture.

He cupped my balls and gave them a slow, teasing pull. My toes curled against the tile as I scrambled for balance, and then his hand wrapped around my cock again.

He didn’t stop—his mouth, his tongue, his fingers, everything worked in tandem, and I was unraveling fast. Moans slipped out without my permission. Curses too.

I braced one arm against the wall and reached back with the other, fisting his hair. I didn’t even know what I wanted—whether to push him away or pull him closer. Probably both.

“Fuck, Atty. If you wanted to fuck, I’m not gonna make it.” I groaned, arching my back and grinding into his mouth.

He paused just long enough to mutter, “I can make you come twice,” before diving back in.

I closed my eyes and gave in. Whatever he wanted—if he wanted to wreck me—I was his.

“That feels so fucking good,” I moaned into the crook of my arm.

Atty shifted for better leverage, his tongue plunging deeper as his grip tightened on my cock. He stroked me just right—sofucking right. How he knew exactly how to undo me, I’d never understand. It was like he’d memorized theNoah Sex Manual.

Or maybe he’d fucking written it.

“Fuck,” I gasped, teetering dangerously close to the edge.