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At some point she lowers her hands and folds them in her lap. Briefly, I wonder if she can feel the tension in the room. If she can sense the shift.

When I’m done, she stands and looks at me. Her eyes are etched with worry—maybe fear, too. “I have to let it sit for twenty minutes. Do you want to watch another episode of Bored to Death?”

I say yes, and we settle in next to each other on the couch.

We started bingeing on this HBO show a few days ago. The first time we watched an episode was Tuesday night, after a wildly hot session under the sheets during which we learned that we’re one of those couples that not only loves, but is really fucking good at sixty-nine.

Fuck.

I didn’t mean couple.

But, boy, did we rock that position. Neither one of us skipped a beat. I devoured her sweet pussy while she went to town on my cock, and we climaxed within about sixty seconds of each other.

And now I’m aroused while watching Ted Danson. Great. Fucking great. I’m not even touching Josie, she smells like a chemical factory, and yet the mere memory of her coming on my face is enough to get a hell of a rise out of me.

Hmmm.

Maybe I need one more time with her.

Yeah, I definitely need a final round. We don’t have to sixty-nine for me to be a happy camper. Any position will do.

When the show ends and she clicks off the TV, I offer my services. “Want me to rinse that out?”

“Sure.”

Back into the bathroom we go. Josie drops the towel from her shoulders and strips off her leggings. She unhooks the bra, and the white lace falls to the tile floor. I strip off my clothes, too, while she turns on the faucet. As the water heats up, I reach behind her head and undo the tinfoil pieces, balling them up and tossing them in the trash.

Then she tips her head toward the shower.

She doesn’t have to say it. But I swear I can hear the words on her lips. One last time.

Or maybe it’s just an echo in my head.

“Ladies first,” I say, and open the shower door for her. She stands under the stream, and I join her in the heat as she lets the water rinse out the color. Pinkish waterfalls slide down her body, over her breasts, down her legs. The dye splashes on the tile floor in a bright fuchsia puddle.

I grab her shampoo, pour some in my hand, and lather up her hair. She sighs happily, like a cat being petted. That’s one of the very many things I love about this girl. She welcomes touch. She’s amazingly good at giving pleasure, and accepting it, too. Not every woman can bask in the moment and savor someone adoring her body. But Josie can. She opens herself fully to feeling good, to being worshipped as she fucking deserves. And it’s maddening how much it turns me on.

I concentrate on the task of washing her hair. Once she’s all lathered up, I tip her head back and rinse out the shampoo. When her hair is sleek as a seal’s, she raises her head out of the stream.

“There,” I say, and she opens her eyes and loops her arms around my neck.

She lifts her chin and says a soft, “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” I say, trying to keep it light, since I feel anything but.

She runs her finger over my top lip as the hot water beats down. “Did you know I’m on the pill?”

All the air rushes from my lungs. I nod. “I did know that.”

That’s the thing about sharing a bathroom and a medicine cabinet. We don’t have too many secrets.

“Do you want to do it without protection?”

I groan, and somehow my dick thickens more, practically begging me to get down to business this second.

Josie is killing me. Just fucking killing me. Max was right. I’ve got to get out of here. I can’t be near her. I can’t resist her.

Right now, I don’t intend to.

I shift her to the wall, push her back against it, and slide my hand between her legs. I stroke her pussy and marvel at the feel. It hits me that she’s this turned on simply from me washing her hair.

Jesus Christ.

In some alternate universe I’m the luckiest bastard on the face of the earth, to have a woman who’s so wildly aroused.

In this one, I’m just the schmuck about to enjoy his final benefit.

But make no mistake, I’m going to enjoy the ever-loving hell out of it.

I hook her leg around my hip, holding her tight, then rub my dick against her sweet, wet center. A sexy moan falls from her gorgeous mouth, and I slide home.

It’s extraordinary.

And I never want to wear a condom again because this is motherfucking heaven. Her heat envelopes me. Her walls clench around my hard-on. Her breath catches, the most desperate sound I’ve ever heard her make.

Then I fuck her.

In my head, I say that word over and over.

This is fucking. This is fucking. This is fucking.

This isn’t making love.

This is just the final screw before I go. I can’t care about the way she threads her hands in my hair. I can’t linger on the murmurs she makes. And I can’t give a second thought ever again to how she clutches me and cries my name when she comes, as if I’m the answer to her every wish.