Page 34 of Come to Me

He thrusts into me again, deeper this time.

I sigh in relief. It's so much sensation--the water from the shower head against my clit, his cock filling me, his hands on my body.

I groan, arching to meet him as he moves harder and faster. I lose track of anything I thought five minutes ago.

I'm only here, with him, our bodies joining.

I arch my back, pushing against the wall to give him better leverage. He pushes deeper inside me, so deep it almost hurts. My sex clenches. Pleasure floods my body, radiating to my chest, my ass, my fingers and toes. Every part of me feels so fucking good, and every part is begging for his touch.

I lean back into Luke, my back rubbing against his hard chest. He's wet, slippery, and his body feels so good against mine. He nuzzles my neck and tilts my head back, kissing me hard.

"Come for me," he murmurs. "I want to hear it."

Breath leaves my body. I turn back, one hand against the wall, the other on the shower handle. I move it up and down, the water rubbing my clit, pushing me closer and closer to the edge. Luke runs his hands over my body, only his slick fingertips. Then he brings them to my breasts. He plays with my nipples, rubbing them with slow circles. He thrusts into me, harder and deeper, and I get closer and closer.

I close my eyes. Jesus. He kisses my neck again. Then it's teeth, a hard scrape. His touch gets harder, rougher. He thrusts into me again and again, and I fill with pleasure. Almost. Almost.

An orgasm washes over me. I groan, dropping the shower handle and grabbing his thigh. He kisses my neck, thrusting into me harder and faster. His breath gets heavier, harder, deeper.

He sinks his teeth into my neck and groans. He's almost there. I press my hands against the wall, arching into him.

He groans one more time, and then he's coming, his cock pulsing inside me.

We stand like that for a moment, our breath slowing.

Then he turns me around and we kiss until we're both soaked to the bone.

* * *

The next twenty-fourhours are bliss.

We kiss. We touch. We fuck. We break for dinner, for drinks, for a few hours of sleep. When we're both too exhausted to move, we lie on the bed, our bodies tangled up in each other.

We don't talk. We don't listen to music. We don't watch TV. Instead, we listen to our breath and heartbeats.

I have no sense of time. No sense of tomorrow or yesterday or anything except Luke and I in this apartment. I don't even know how many times we have sex, how many times I come from his cock or his hands or his mouth.

It's perfect.

But it's only perfect for so long.

At six a.m., his phone rings with an alarm. We pull ourselves apart. I push away any feelings of concern.

I still have him a little longer. I want to savor every last minute that he's here.

I watch him get dressed. He's slow about it, putting on a show for me. He steps into his boxers, making a point of stretching his arms over his head. He smirks as I take in every perfect inch. "I appreciate your enthusiasm, but you don't need to put this image in your spank bank. I'm happy to send you pictures."

"My spank bank?"

"Don't you think about me when you touch yourself?"

"Oh. Sometimes."

His lips curl into a smile. "Don't tell me you're shy now."

"I'm going to miss you," I say, skirting the subject.

His expression softens.