Mark pulled me in tighter. He lifted me up in his arms, his footing sure and stable even in the wet shower stall, pinning my body against the relatively cool tile of the shower wall. I wrapped my legs around him, both of us letting loose long groans as I sank down onto his wide, beautiful shaft. It didn't matter how often or how many times, having Mark's cock inside me was just heaven on earth. "Did you stop the pills?"
I nodded, smiling. I'd thrown out the package the day after our fight with the two men, along with the M-14 rifle, all three being dumped into the ocean. "You said after the Russians were done."
Because of his wounds and the stress of everything, we hadn't made love since before the firefight, and we took our time. I was amazed at his strength, even after two weeks of relative inactivity. Mark held me effortlessly as he filled me over and over with small short strokes of his cock that had us both crying out softly. It was a perfect position for what we wanted. The thick spreading lit up the nerves in my * while my nipples dragged over his chest, sending fireworks through my body until I was almost begging for more. Mark was in the same situation, his cock squeezed and my fingernails dragging over his neck and back while we kissed.
At the same time though, because of our position, we couldn't go to that final level. Mark couldn't thrust deep enough without me sliding down the wall, and because of the difference in our heights, I couldn't put a foot down to help support myself. Instead we stayed in that prison of pleasure while he stabbed into me over and over with his cock, unable to stop but at the same time caught on an erotic plateau. I could hear myself groaning over and over, "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," in tune to his short viscous thrusts that pounded into me, wanting more than either of us could give.
My legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him in tighter, trying to use my own thighs to help lift and lower my body, but our skin was too wet and slick. I pushed with my arms, trying to add that, and it helped some. Our strokes became an inch longer, the extra distance exponentially increasing the sensations from the heated passion of our joining. My left breast lifted up high enough to catch on the hard line of Mark's collarbone, pinching for a moment before sliding down, a cry tearing from my lips as it shot pleasure down my body to the pit of my stomach and deep into my brain.
Finally, with an animal growl of frustration, Mark wrapped me up and took me to the floor of the shower, turning me over and setting me on my chest and knees. I could barely get my ass up as he lay on top of me, his cock impaling me over and over from behind. Both of us were almost drowning in the spray from overhead, but didn't care. My body was on fire with the pleasure tearing through me, and my mind flashed with colors with every slap of Mark's hips against mine.
I could feel my orgasm rushing up on me like a drag racer, and I clenched my fists, wanting to hold off for just a second or two longer. I couldn't stop it though, and it shattered through me, sharp shards of ecstasy that stabbed deep into my stomach and up my backbone before piercing my brain and leaving me senseless, red and white strobe lights behind my eyeballs that only grew brighter when I felt Mark's cock also explode, filling me with his precious seed.
We lay there under the spray for a long time, until the water heater finally gave up the ghost, and we shut it off. My body still felt boneless, my muscles weak as a kitten as Mark got out and found one of the large Egyptian cotton bath towels we bought, coming back in to wrap it around me and carry me into the bed room. He laid me on top of the comforter on the bed, and kissed my forehead. "Take a nap," he whispered. "We own the gym, remember? I think we can go in a bit later than we originally planned."
Chapter 11
Sophie
I checked my hair in the mirror, just now after almost a month and a half feeling comfortable and natural with the bright purple shade. It looked good, and the new manicure from Ms. Wen at her nail salon the day before made me feel pretty and feminine. It was a bit of a surprise, I thought. Six months prior, I'd felt overweight, lonely, and unloved. Since then I'd traveled the world, changed my identity, had some plastic surgery (none of it to my so-called problem areas), and had lost a grand total of five pounds. Yep, only five pounds. The difference was in how the rest of my body was laid out, and more importantly, in how my mind was laid out.