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Authors: Faleena Hopkins
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this night. She gasped and whimpered, clutching his shoulder. “Oh Eli! I’m cumming again!” He gripped her hips and kept on her until she was screaming, her walls throbbing against his mouth. He kissed her inner thighs gently, rubbing his lips on them so she didn’t freak out when she saw how wet she’d been. That it was all over him. Eli didn’t want her to become self-conscious. He wanted her just. like. this.
He gathered her up and stood smiling down at her spent face. “Hi.”
Cradled in his arms, her body shivering with after-shocks, she smiled. “Hi.”
“Now for that shower.”
Chapter Thirteen
R ose slid weak arms around his neck and laid her head on his t-shirt, his chest muscles moving under it as he walked, her stockinged feet bobbing with the journey. He kicked the door open then set her down on a bathroom counter that was barely big enough to hold her. Motioning for her to wait, he turned on the water, guiding the temperature. She watched the cotton tug across his shoulders. She couldn’t wait to kiss them. He rose up and walked to slip her white socks off and tossed them aside, massaging the bottoms of her toes as he reached over and checked the water again. “Perfect,” he said under his breath as he began to strip.
Yes, you are, she thought to herself on a happy smile.
He bent his head, reached back and grabbed the cotton fabric on his shoulder blades, pulling his shirt off from back to front. He tossed it to the ground and looked at her. She was staring at his chest. He smiled. “You like what you see, Rose?”
She nodded. He chuckled and kicked off his red converse as he unbuttoned his jeans. Worn blue denim pulled down over his slender hips and she stared at the v that pointed down. As his pants fell around his ankles and his cock bounced out, hard and hu-fucking-mungous, she gasped. Apparently when she’d seen it earlier, it wasn’t all the way full because now what she was gaping at was so big she had no idea how she’d be able to take it all. Swallowing a nervous lump in her throat, she raised her eyelashes and canvassed his face with concern. He started laughing.
“I’ll go slow.”
She closed her mouth and swallowed again, her eyebrows screwed together. He leaned down, slipped off his socks, kicked his pants to the side and took her hand, placing it around his length. She stroked him from root to tip gently at first, then pulled a little rougher as his breath caught. She cupped him with both hands and looked at the beauty of his throbbing veins and crimson mushroom head. “Your cock is gorgeous,” she whispered.
He didn’t laugh this time. “Look at me.” He wrapped his hands around her thighs.
Her eyelashes fluttered up and she blinked at him because something had changed. He really seemed to glow. She couldn’t ignore what she saw. She thought she’d imagined it in the hallway earlier, but now there was no denying his eyes looked supernatural. It was dark in the small bathroom and the steam drifted around them like fog; he hadn’t hit the light switch so his eyes should be darker, not lit up from the inside, the color of honey.
She let him go and laid her hands on his chest, studying him.
“What’s wrong? You look like…” he bit off the rest, a frown leaping into his forehead.
With awe and shock, she whispered, “Your eyes! They’re glowing!”
He stepped back like she’d slapped him, his head dropping to the side so she couldn’t see his face anymore. He reached for the faucets, shutting the water off, the steam thickly clouding around him. She watched the muscles of his back clench as he threw his hands onto the wall, facing away from her and breathing heavily. “I don’t think this is a good idea. You need to go.”
She squeaked for the first time in her life. “What?”
He was struggling to breathe, cracking his neck over and over. After a moment, his voice grated low and guttural, “Look, it just hit me. Our best friends are married.
He gathered her up and stood smiling down at her spent face. “Hi.”
Cradled in his arms, her body shivering with after-shocks, she smiled. “Hi.”
“Now for that shower.”
Chapter Thirteen
R ose slid weak arms around his neck and laid her head on his t-shirt, his chest muscles moving under it as he walked, her stockinged feet bobbing with the journey. He kicked the door open then set her down on a bathroom counter that was barely big enough to hold her. Motioning for her to wait, he turned on the water, guiding the temperature. She watched the cotton tug across his shoulders. She couldn’t wait to kiss them. He rose up and walked to slip her white socks off and tossed them aside, massaging the bottoms of her toes as he reached over and checked the water again. “Perfect,” he said under his breath as he began to strip.
Yes, you are, she thought to herself on a happy smile.
He bent his head, reached back and grabbed the cotton fabric on his shoulder blades, pulling his shirt off from back to front. He tossed it to the ground and looked at her. She was staring at his chest. He smiled. “You like what you see, Rose?”
She nodded. He chuckled and kicked off his red converse as he unbuttoned his jeans. Worn blue denim pulled down over his slender hips and she stared at the v that pointed down. As his pants fell around his ankles and his cock bounced out, hard and hu-fucking-mungous, she gasped. Apparently when she’d seen it earlier, it wasn’t all the way full because now what she was gaping at was so big she had no idea how she’d be able to take it all. Swallowing a nervous lump in her throat, she raised her eyelashes and canvassed his face with concern. He started laughing.
“I’ll go slow.”
She closed her mouth and swallowed again, her eyebrows screwed together. He leaned down, slipped off his socks, kicked his pants to the side and took her hand, placing it around his length. She stroked him from root to tip gently at first, then pulled a little rougher as his breath caught. She cupped him with both hands and looked at the beauty of his throbbing veins and crimson mushroom head. “Your cock is gorgeous,” she whispered.
He didn’t laugh this time. “Look at me.” He wrapped his hands around her thighs.
Her eyelashes fluttered up and she blinked at him because something had changed. He really seemed to glow. She couldn’t ignore what she saw. She thought she’d imagined it in the hallway earlier, but now there was no denying his eyes looked supernatural. It was dark in the small bathroom and the steam drifted around them like fog; he hadn’t hit the light switch so his eyes should be darker, not lit up from the inside, the color of honey.
She let him go and laid her hands on his chest, studying him.
“What’s wrong? You look like…” he bit off the rest, a frown leaping into his forehead.
With awe and shock, she whispered, “Your eyes! They’re glowing!”
He stepped back like she’d slapped him, his head dropping to the side so she couldn’t see his face anymore. He reached for the faucets, shutting the water off, the steam thickly clouding around him. She watched the muscles of his back clench as he threw his hands onto the wall, facing away from her and breathing heavily. “I don’t think this is a good idea. You need to go.”
She squeaked for the first time in her life. “What?”
He was struggling to breathe, cracking his neck over and over. After a moment, his voice grated low and guttural, “Look, it just hit me. Our best friends are married.
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