“Come for me again,” he says, voice unraveling, same as the threads of his control. “You’re right there, baby. I can feel it.” He rolls his hips in a measured grind that sends my back into a continuous arch.
“Oh God, Sebastian…” I turn my head and smother my moans into the pillow.
“That’s it. Let go for me.”
The world narrows to friction and heat, to his skin against mine, the way he moves inside me, how his breath hitches as I clench.
I can’t form syllables.
Can’t catch a swirling thought.
All I can do is surrender.
Digging my nails into his shoulder, I willingly drown, my cries lost in the pillow as I convulse around him. He pumps harder, faster, prolonging the waves, his sweat-slicked thighs slapping against mine, angling for more.
And he finds it.
“Novalee.” His voice breaks on my name, his breath hot on my throat as he slams to a halt. A raw groan tears out of him, more unguarded than anything I’ve ever heard, and it’s enough to make me seize around him once more.
“Fuck, yes, baby.”
His lips crush mine, and I hold on to him with everything I am, refusing to exist anywhere else but in this moment with him.
Because outside these walls, the world is waiting to tear us apart again, but right now, with his weight on me and him still deep inside, none of that matters.
4
We’re not done yet. Not even close. He’s got me bent over in the shower, my palms braced against the marble as he takes me from behind.
And it just gets better from here.
Deeper at this angle.
More possessive, with his grip on my hips keeping me right where he wants me.
I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
I could live the rest of my days doing this with him.
“Sebastian,” I gasp, overcome by how deep he feels.
How deep heis.
So. Damn. Deep.
Over and over, with no end in sight.
God, don’t let this end.
My mind whirls in euphoric abandon as he grunts and thrusts, his fingers gouging my skin, desperate to claim every piece of me. Unlike in the bedroom, where he was careful and patient—each inch measured against my innocence—he holds nothing back now, giving me the most stripped-down parts of himself.
With a groan, I let my head droop and squeeze my eyes shut.
And that’s when the climax barrels into us at once.
“Fuck,” he bites out, fisting my wet hair and hauling me upright. My spine bows, back flush to his chest as we crash together, both of us swallowing the sounds of the cardinal sin we’re committing.
For several minutes, we stand under the shower spray, motionless in the steamy haze. Eventually, he reaches for the soap, even as he stays inside me, and his hands glide over my breasts, slippery with lather. He rolls my nipples until my teeth sink into my lip.