I took his silky head in my mouth, circling it with my tongue while I pumped my fist up and down. He was so long that I felt like I was barely getting any of him in my mouth, but if the way he was already groaning against my pussy was any sign, I was doing good enough.
I loved the feeling of power—how what I was doing to him seemed to directly translate to how passionately he moved his tongue and mouth against me.
Chris was a magician with his tongue, which he would press against my clit and glide all along my folds. He’d use the tip to circle me, then drive inside my entrance and fuck me with it.
Any sense of shame went out the window. I humped his face and pumped my fist against him as my moans echoed off the shower walls.
The ghost of a thought haunted me—that there was a point after this moment, a point where I’d need to consider all the millions of implications what we were doing might have. But I pressed it down as soon as it rose in my mind.
My body clenched against an orgasm as I came. Before I was even through, he was repositioning me.
“I want you to ride me,” Chris said. For once in his life, he didn’t have that trademark grin of his on. He looked deadly serious, and as much as I’d come to enjoy his goofy side, it was hot to see him so serious.
I straddled him and put my hands on his chest, gently easing his huge length into me. Chris gripped himself at the base, pumping into me as I rocked up and down. He didn’t move his hand from himself, which gave me a delightful little brush of friction against my clit every time I pushed my hips down into him.
Chris’ mouth was half open and his eyes were locked on mine. I met them, then had to look away. It felt too intimate, as ridiculous as that was to say.
This was just another fling.
One more meaningless hook up.
Except when I met his eyes it felt like more than that. It felt real. Like I was currently sitting on top of my actual fiancé, and not just my fake one.
Chris put his strong grip on my hips, pulling me down onto himself and filling me with every last inch of himself he could. I sagged forward, feeling suddenly spent and exhausted. The line between orgasm and everything else was blurring, and my head was pounding with an unceasing rush of white-hot pleasure. I could practically feel it rushing through my veins and tingling all the way to my fingertips.
Chris’ pace increased, even as it felt like all I could really do was lean forward with my palms on the wet tiles beside him. I was hanging on for dear life.
The only sounds were our mingled breaths and the wet slap of our bodies colliding.
Chris skillfully flipped me over and pulled himself out just as his pace had reached a peak. He took himself in his hand and positioned himself over me. When he came, he did it on my stomach.
Neither of us moved at first, chests heaving. Eventually, Chris leaned down and planted a tender kiss on my mouth. It wasn’t like the kisses before. It wasn’t the kind of kiss that you took when you weren’t sure when the next would come. It was the type of kiss you gave to someone when you knew they’d be there tomorrow.
He was smiling down at me. “I was worried I built that up to be better than I remembered.”
“Did you?”
“No. I’d forgotten how amazing it is.”
I grinned. “You’re only saying that so I’ll let you do it again.”
“Is that option on the table?”
“No. I don’t know. Maybe.” I shook my head, closing my eyes. “No. It’s not smart for us to get involved like this. Again.”
“The majority of fun things in life aren’t smart. That’s what makes them fun.”
“We should get cleaned up.”
“We’re in the shower. Is there something wrong with your water I should know about?”
I gave him a look, then got up and ran soap over myself, especially my stomach where he’d came all over me. “What is it with guys and wanting to shoot their jizz on women, anyway?”
Chris came from behind me, wrapping his arms around my chest and kissing my neck. I tried to will myself to slip out of his grasp, because it wasn’t the sort of thing you did after a meaningless hook up. It was too tender. Again.
Except all I did was stand there, enjoying the slick sensation of our wet bodies pressed together and his still hard length pinned against my lower back.
“Why?” he asked in my ear. “You want me to come inside you next time? Or do a one-eighty and shoot it at the wall? Maybe aim it straight up and we can play some full-ball roulette to see who catches it on the way down?”