Finally, after an eternity of climax, she let me go and I collapsed back onto the bed. Lexie rolled off me and pivoted, bringing her head to my chest. She smiled up at me.
“That was…a lot of cum,” she murmured, laughing. “Like, whoa.”
I was limp, floppy. “Uh, huh.”
She palmed my jaw and brought my face to hers, kissing me on the cheek. “You dead?”
I nodded sloppily. “Uh-huh.”
She lifted my now-inert cock, let it flop back to my body in the mess. “Looks like you need a shower.”
I shook my head. “Can’t walk. Legs are jelly.”
She laughed. “It was really that good?”
I nodded. “Uh-huh. That good.”
“Better than the handjob I gave you back in Dallas?”
“Yeah.”
She traced her fingertip through the sticky mess pooling on my skin. “You mad I didn’t swallow it all?”
I laughed. “No, Lex, I’m not.”
“Just glad I didn’t leave you hanging?” I heard the edge of defensiveness.
I cupped her cheek. “It was perfect, Lex. Everything we do together is amazing and more than I could ever have thought possible.”
“Even if I’ll never let you raw dog me?”
I frowned. “Not usually one to argue with vulgarity, but that makes it sound like it’s something…dirty, and not in a sexy way.”
She sighed. “You know what I mean.”
“I know you’re trying to put distance between you and me and the emotions of being totally bare with each other, Lex. And I’m not going to push it.” I held her face, thumb grazing her cheekbone. “Yes, I want that. Desperately. You say it’ll never happen, and if that’s the case, I can accept that. I know you’re dealing with a lot, Lex, and I’m not going to put anything more on you.”
I slid out of bed, bringing her with me, stood up and carried her into the bathroom. Set her on the marble bench in the shower, turned on the water. Let it run hot. Adjusted it to a tolerable temperature and tugged her by the hand to stand her up. Kissed her neck. Her jaw. Her breastbone. She was holding her breath, resting her hands on my shoulders.
“My turn,” I said.
“Your turn?” Lexie breathed. “For what?”
“To make you come so hard you see stars.”
“You already did.”
“Not good enough.” I reached out and snagged the bar of soap. Lathered it up and began running it over her skin, starting at her shoulders. “Not to equalize what you just did to me. I feel like I owe you at least three more orgasms for that.”
“I told you, I’m not keeping track.”
“And I told you I do.” I ran the bar of soap all over her, lathering her breasts, her diaphragm, down her belly.
I ran the soap over her hips, all over her thighs from back to front, avoiding her ass and core—saving them for last. Letting the water run over her, sluicing onto her head and neck and shoulders, letting her stand in the stream and luxuriate in being washed. Taking my time, scrubbing and massaging all at once. Brought the lather up to her sex and went to my knees. Pivoted her so she could brace against the wall, because I planned on making sure she’d need to brace herself. I took my time washing her core, nudging her thighs aside and using the gentlest touch I could. Kneeling behind her, my arms around her hips, the soap running over her slit, my other hand working in the lather and letting the rivulets of water rinse it all away. Then I brought the soap around to her backside, massaged the globes and scrubbed them, working my way inward. I leaned forward to kiss her back, her hips, tasting the clean water on her skin. I ran the soap and my other hand in slow slides inward, parting her ass cheeks. Over the tender knot. Just a pass of my hand, at first. The soap. Again. She gasped as I lathered the inner curve of each cheek and the parted seam between, and massaged the tiny virgin knot of muscle.
“Ohhhh fuck, Myles. You’re doing that?” she gasped. “Now?”
“Uh-huh,” I murmured.
“Ohhh fuck.”
“Better hold on to the wall, babe.”
She clapped her hands against the marble wall, leaning forward and arching her back inward to press her ass outward. Eager. I set the soap aside and gathered water as it ran over her shoulders and spine and hip, splashed it over her ass, rinsing her clean. And then set about kissing: spine, hipbones; ass cheek, upper swell of her thigh. Working my kisses inward. She was moaning as my lips and tongue dared and delved closer and closer, moaning from anticipation. I hesitated, and then took my first taste of her. She gasped, a sharp shrill whimper, and one hand left the shower wall, reached back to scrabble at my head, and I took that as encouragement. I slid my fingers between her thighs, up, found her clit and circled it hard and fast as I used my tongue against her ass to make her writhe. She lifted up on her toes, away from me even as she pressed her ass back against me, and I devoured her harder, faster, more vigorously than ever, head whipping from side to side and my fingers circling in a blur—she screamed, bit down on it, and her voice cracked, broke, and she dissolved into weak-kneed dipping, shaking, whimpering breathlessly, coming hard. I pushed her through it and to another, sliding my fingers inside her, delving in and smearing
