Page 95 of Reckless Hearts

I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on.

My cock continues to throb, but Marcus ignores it, instead continuing the torture of caressing and exploring every inch of me except where I’m aching for his touch. It’s like he’s deliberately avoiding the most sensitive areas, building the tension until I’m about to combust from sheer want.

He leans in, his breath hot against my ear.

“I’ve missed this,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

His lips brush my neck, and it’s like a jolt of electricity straight to my core. My head falls back to give him better access, and he continues to kiss down my neck.

I finally find the courage to explore him in return, my hands tracing the hard planes of his chest, the ridges of his abs.

He raises his gaze to me, and I have a heartbeat of disbelief that Marcus Johnson, with water droplets clinging to his perfect eyelashes and rivulets running down his chiseled jawline, is in here with me.

The pouty lips that were the first thing I noticed about Marcus are now slightly parted. I take that as an invitation to lean forward and put my mouth on his.

The kiss starts slow, a gentle press of lips that quickly evolves into something more urgent. Marcus kisses like he’s trying to decode the secrets of the universe using only his mouth, and I’m more than happy to be his cipher.

God, I’ve missed kissing Marcus. I’ve missed the feel of his tongue in my mouth, the way his lips fit perfectly against mine. I’ve missed the way he nibbles gently on my lower lip, the way his hands cup my face as we kiss. I’m growing dizzy with want with every swipe of his tongue.

Suddenly, his lips are off mine and I’m blinking, disoriented.

He turns me so I’m against the tiles, his body pressed against mine.

The cool tiles are a sharp contrast to the heat of his body and the warmth of the water beating down on us.

His mouth is back on my skin, trailing down my neck, then down the planes of my back, his lips and teeth grazing my shoulder blades, the knobs of my spine, the dimples at the small of my back. Each touch sends shockwaves through my system like I’m experiencing a personal seismic event.

If there was a Richter scale for arousal, I’d be off the charts.

Marcus falls to his knees and gently kisses the globes of my ass before parting my cheeks.

Holy hell.

My fingers clench, but there’s nothing to grab hold of but slippery tiles as Marcus takes me apart with his tongue.

Just when I think I can take it no more, he reaches around to stroke my cock at the same rhythm his tongue presses inside me.

The dual sensation makes my knees weak, and I’m grateful for the shower wall.

It’s like he’s found my body’s on-off switch, and he’s flicking it repeatedly.

“Oh…ghsg…” Garbled letter combinations that make no sense come out of my mouth in a stream as my balls clench, and suddenly, I’m coming, painting the wall of the shower.

Marcus leans back on his haunches, looking thoroughly proud of himself, as I slump against the shower wall, trying to hold myself upright after the most epic orgasm ever.

His own cock is so hard, and he strokes himself. I just stare for a few moments before my brain comes back online.

Oh no. There’s no way I’m having that.

I crouch next to him, my legs still wobbly.

“Gimme,” I say, pushing Marcus’s hand away so I can take over.

The water runs in rivulets between us as I stroke his cock with one hand, my other hand exploring him with my fingers, discovering what makes his breath hitch, what makes him groan.

I can’t take my eyes off him, watching his face for every flicker of pleasure.

So I see the moment when he tips over the edge, his eyes fluttering shut, his expression a mix of vulnerability and ecstasy. It’s as if I’m witnessing a rare celestial event, something fleeting, intense, and utterly mesmerizing.