Yeah. It was nice.
I suddenly want it rough.
Dean’s cock pushes hard against my belly, fully erect now, but when I slip my hand down to grasp him, his fingers curl around my wrist.
He twists my arm behind my back. His breath is hot against my lips. “Don’t move.”
I don’t. Except that my chest is heaving as I watch him pull back to cup my breasts, flicking the tips through the wet cotton, running his long fingers beneath them.
He turns me around so my back is to his chest, locking one arm securely around my waist. He slides his other hand over my hip and peels the shirt up to expose my white panties.
“Are you hot under here?” His fingers tangle in the elastic waistband before he pushes them halfway down my thighs.
“God, yes.”
I shudder, wanting to both part my legs and press them together to soothe the growing ache. Dean pushes the panties off me, then slips his fingers between my thighs and starts working me in exactly the way he knows I like, his forefinger trailing up one side and circling my clit before stroking down the other side.
In no time, I’m writhing against his hand, and moans echo off the shower stall. I’m hoping the hot water holds out because the whole thing feels so good—the steaming, pounding water, Dean’s exploring touch, his other arm tight around my waist. The T-shirt clings to me like a second skin, and I’m aroused by the sight of my full breasts draped in the wet cloth, my nipples hard as cherries.
Three more hard strokes from Dean, and I come with the force of an exploding star, quaking and tightening my legs around his hand. His chest heaves against my back, and then we’re tumbling out of the shower, dripping wet and not stopping for towels on the way to the bedroom.
My breasts crush against his chest as we fall onto the bed, our mouths seeking, tongues tangling. Water spills from our skin, evaporating in the carnal heat. He lifts away, his eyes hot as he stares at the shirt still plastered to my body. He pushes it up farther to expose my breasts, splaying his big hands over them, squeezing them together.
I spread my legs, my knees hugging his hips. My desire sparks all over again when his erection presses against my inner thigh. I can feel the urgency uncoiling through him. Above me, he’s all heated, damp skin and smoky eyes and I know he wants it, wants me…
I twist around, bucking him away, and get on my hands and knees. I push my ass toward him. “Do it like this.”
My voice is low and strained. This position has always been explosive for both of us, though I’ve never quite gotten used to the way it makes me feel exposed and vulnerable. But right now, I want it, want the reminder of Dean’s possession and my own compliance.
Renewed arousal clenches my belly. He grabs a condom from the nightstand and rolls it on. He settles his hands on my waist, pulling me into position, and then his cock nudges at my opening. Sweat trickles between my breasts. I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Hard,” I whisper.
He tightens his hands on my hips before he slides into me with one powerful thrust. I gasp, jerking forward, wincing at the sensation of utter fullness. Dean pulls me against him and thrusts again. My nerves are on fire. I fumble for a pillow and bury my face in it, emptying my mind of all thought as he starts to pump.
“Push back.” His voice roughens with the command. “Fuck yourself on me.”
I shudder and drive my hips backward, matching his rhythm. My world distills to pure sensation—my husband’s hands gripping my body, his cock sliding in and out of me, his breath hot against my back. Tendrils of wet hair cling to my face.
My ass slaps against his flat stomach, the smack of flesh on flesh echoing in my head. The wet cotton shirt abrades my nipples and sends heat sparking over my skin. Dean’s thrusts are forceful, his groans rumbling above me.
Air scorches my lungs. He slams into me all the way, jarring me to the core, pleasure mixing with an edge of pain. My pulse pounds. I’m quaking with urgency, and he knows it because he slips a hand beneath me and splays his fingers over my aching clit.
“Tell me what you want, Liv.”
“Oh…” I twist my hips, trying to rub myself against his hand, feeling that explosion of bliss so close. “I want to come again… please, let me…”
He takes his hand away, sliding it up to my breasts beneath the T-shirt. I cry out with frustration and reach between my legs. Dean grabs my wrist and pins my hand to the bed, plunging so far inside me that my whole body shakes with the impact.
“Don’t touch yourself,” he says hoarsely. “You’ll come just from taking me deep.”
Heat floods me. My thighs tremble. I shove back in desperation, craving release. My mind fills with images of me on my hands and knees, Dean all fiery and tense behind me, his muscles corded with exertion, his chest damp with sweat. His thick, veined cock sinking into my body.