He rose to his feet, his legs a little bit trembly. I took his beefy shoulder and turned him around to face me. By now, the shower stall had grown as steamy as a Rangoon jungle in August.
“Are you liking this?”
“Woof,” he said, nodding.
“Well show me, then.” And to make the point, I licked him once. He got the idea. He dropped to his knees, and I moved my legs apart, opening up my sex. He dived in with his tongue and got busy, and he wasn’t just lapping like a dog at his water bowl. This guy knew his way around. Tracing the edges of my labia in long tongue strokes, light and delicate, building me to a peak as he came closer and closer to the top. Then I nearly went crossed, when finally his tongue began to circle my clit, teasing back that clitoral hood, closer and closer to hitting the jackpot. When his tongue hit the button at last, an involuntary yelp escaped me, and I couldn’t stop myself from vocalizing “Oh. Oh. Oh. God. Oh. Yes. Yes. Ahh, ahh, ahh.” I was right on the edge, and on the way over…
“No, no,” he said firmly. “No not yet.” He was my master now, and I was a bitch in heat. He got up and grabbed the shower head, which was one of those detachable things with the long hose to reach anywhere, and a whole bunch of settings for different sprays. He clicked it through several choices, and picked one that send hard, sharply focused pulses. “On your back,” he ordered me. “Keep those legs open. Nice and wide.”
Oh. My. Sweet. Fucking. Lord.
Every jetting pulse of the warm spray was an almost painful ecstasy. In seconds, he had me back at the top of the highest rise of the roller coaster.
“Oh. Oh. Please. Oh. God. GOD! OH! I’m. I’m. COMING!”
Which I hardly needed to say. The bucking, thrusting spasms that rocked me to my core spoke louder than words. He stuck the shower head back in its holder. When he turned back, standing above me, I said “That thing is amazing. Let me do you like that.”
“Not a chance,” he said as he lowered himself onto me. “I have something else in mind for you, darling. I could see from that thick, hard magic wand between his legs exactly what that was. He shut off the water, picked me up, and carried me out of the bathroom. At least I had a chance to grab a towel as we passed the towel bar. He jerked the covers off the bed, I threw the soft, fluffy towel down on the bottom sheet, and he lowered me on top of it. We were both still dripping from the shower (or, in my case, more than just the shower). He placed me down the sideways across the bed, with my butt at the edge, which left my yearning sex in position for his perfect access. Spreading my thighs, he entered me without further ado.
I discovered all my training had another advantage. I was stronger. I was limber. And I was proud of my now magnificent (if I do say so myself) body. All that running and lifting and sparring did more than turning me into a lethal killing machine. It turned me into a lethal fucking machine. Well, not lethal in the Black Widow sense, but deadly. Weylyn lifted my legs up on his shoulders, which maximized how deep he could thrust that monster boner, it also maximized my pleasure. Unlike if he just laid on me, missionary style, I could see him better. Standing and thrusting into me, I could see every rock hard ripple of abs, pecs, arms, and that handsome as a god face, which was clearly in as much ecstasy as I was. He was taking his time, but after the way he’d made me cum like crazy already in the shower, I didn’t need him to hold back for me.
“Fuck me faster,” I said. “I want you to cum as hard as I did.”
His reply came out in jerky, one word bits, each one on a divine pelvic thrust. As he spoke the words sped up, and so did his fucking. “I’ve— wanted— this— so— bad— since— the— moment— I— saw— you— I’m— not— going— to— rush— oh— rush— this— uh— this— Oh-oh-ahh-AHH mySweetFuckingJesus!” he said bellowed, as his jiz erupted like a volcano inside me, and I came again too, harder than before…
…Don’t ask me why we bothered to take a shower. We were both sweating like hod carriers in June again. As our racing heartbeats slowed, Weylyn’s nose began to twitch. “Smell that?”
He was right. It was a fantastic, unmistakable smell. “Bacon!” I pushed him away. “Get out of my way, I have to get dressed.”
“No shit,” he said, grabbing the towel and winding around his slim waist. He flung my door open and dashed off toward his room. But of course, the moment he cleared the doorway, Katie stepped in. Not before taking a second to watch that dreamboat bod blur past her.
“Uh… I uh…” she stammered. “Breakfast.” She managed to push out.
“Great! I’m famished.”
“I, uh, guess you have to keep your strength up.” Katie’s voice was a bit wistful.
“Jealous much?”
“Me? Cupcake, it’s your birthday. Fuck anything that moves if you want.”
A dopey grin spread across my face. “Oh, yeah. Right… and there’s bacon!”
I walked into the kitchen, all clean and shiny. The air exploded with a hearty chorus of “Happy Birthday!” The fragrant kitchen was crowded with my four favorite guys, my best friend, and Poe. Multi-colored balloons and streamers were everywhere. The table groaned under an avalanche of food that I’m sure Keegan made. And, lest we forget, a few bottles of champagne for my favorite breakfast food. Mimosas! Katie let out a loud high-pitched squeal, wrapping her arms around me. “Happy Birthday,
