Page 67 of Rulebreaker

Luckily, I was paying attention.

And I have long arms.

I manage to slip my hand behind her head, to take the impact in my palm.

And I don’t stop.

Really, Ican’tstop.

Not with her slick cunt clamped around me as I stroke into her hard and fast and deep, so deep that, even with saving her from cracking her head open, I’m close.

Tooclose.

Especially with the warm water cascading down our naked bodies, turning her into something out of a wet dream.

Glistening skin. Tempting curves.

Warm eyes on mine.

At least until I change my angle, thrusting deeper, and she arches again, grinding down as I pound up into her.

And I feel it.

The danger zone.

My orgasm coiling at the base of my spine.

The last dredges of my control threatening to splinter and give way.

Spinning us, I sink down onto the shower seat, drawing her over me, smirking at the befuddlement that comes over her face as she sputters. “Wh-what?”

I settle a hand on her back, clamp my other onto her hip, keeping her close. “Fuck me, Texas,” I order. “Make us both come.”

She blinks. Once. Twice.

Probably because giving up control in the bedroom is not exactly my thing.

But doing it with this woman doesn’t feel like giving.

It’s natural. It’s us.

And bonus, it comes with an excellent view of her tits.

Another bonus?

After that second blink, she starts moving, lifting up, grinding down, pussy clamped tightly around me, breasts bouncing, head falling back, but safely this time, well away from the tiled wall.

More bonuses.

“Atlas,” she moans.

And I stop thinking, about bonuses, about everything else except for pleasure–hers, mine. I stop thinking about control, about what the sight of her and Banks and Aspen’s place with Maisy in her arms did to me.

I stop thinking all together.

And I just feel.

The rightness.