Page 47 of Catching Mr. Right

“Only you,” he says gruffly, moving in one fluid motion from the vanity to the shower, scooping me up on his way. He bites and kisses my mouth as he puts me down under the spray.

“Only me what?” Water drums over my head. My pulse thunders under his heated gaze.

I lose a breath, a heartbeat, a second as he presses me between the textured, chilly tiles and his angular body. His maleness makes my knees weak. His musky scent makes me want to cling to him. “Only you could wear that damn awful shower cap and still make a guy hard as fuck.”

I laugh, even as my gaze drops to his erection. The head of it bobs against his abs. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” He takes my hand and places it on his cock, curls my palm around him and guides it up and down his length. “Mandy Pearce, you are, by far, the most delectable little morsel.”

“Morsel?” I throw the word back at him, my stomach flip-flopping, my breath coming out ragged with the lightness in my lungs. It’s just a line. It doesn’t even mean anything, but it paints pictures in my head of something that lasts longer than tonight. “Are you going to eat me?”

“Fuck yes.” His fingers go to the hot throbbing spot between my thighs. Hanging onto his biceps, I step out to give him access to the parts of me that only know him—well, and a bunch of batteries wrapped in vibrating silicone, but they never made me want like he does. He drops his mouth to my breast, sucks at my skin, leaves it rosy as he moves to the other. I tilt my face into the water, get lost in the drumming. Water droplets. My heartbeat. The constant pulsing between my legs as he pushes his fingers into me with deep, unhurried strokes. He takes his time, turns his entire focus on every inch of me. By the time he gets his tongue between my legs I can barely contain my orgasm. My shoulders bounce against the tiles, my fingers get lost in his hair as I climax, crying out under the spray.

Cas surges to his feet. He climbs out of the shower and grabs a condom. Brow furrowed, he bites his lip as he focuses on tugging the latex over his cock. Rivers of water follow the dips and planes of his body and so does my gaze while I wait for him to fill the space closest to me again. I wind my arms around his shoulders as he picks me up and presses my back to the wall to balance us. His cock slides in more easily this time. Deeper. He steals my mouth, my breath, my plans.

Maybe I give them to him. Maybe I was wrong about what I want.

I bury my face in his neck, hide my thoughts where he can’t see them as he fucks me with powerful strokes that stretch and fill me and send me soaring into darkness while my inner walls squeeze his cock until he groans loudly with his orgasm. Maybe I’ll never tell.

We collapse against the wall, and he kisses me softly while he turns the water off with a shaky hand. His muscles tremble around me.

“We didn’t soap up,” I tell him as he carries me out of the shower and drapes one huge fluffy towel around us.

“We’ll come back to it.” He kisses me, pulling the shower cap from my hair and tossing it into the sink before striding out of the bathroom. “Once I’ve fed you some sandwiches, and we’ve watched some bad TV.”

“Okay.” I can’t deny I’m famished. Can’t stop the growling of my stomach. “Is there any chocolate? I’m fanging for some sugar.”

“Probably.” He smirks as he puts me down and rubs me dry with the towel before winding it around his hips. Water droplets cling to the tips of his hair, his eyebrows, his shoulders. They slide down his torso and over his ink like rain on a windowpane. “Let’s get dressed and find out.”

Twenty minutes later we’re back on his bed. I sit cross-legged at the end, a plate with half a lamb sandwich by my foot, a Cadbury’s chocolate bar beside it. The TV’s on some show about body painting that doesn’t really hold my attention. Cas is stretched out beside me, his hands clasped behind his head on the pillow, his long feet crossed at the ankles. I can sense him staring. It burns into my back and makes those butterflies perform acrobatics.

“I was thinking,” he says. “About what you asked earlier. About whether falling hard is worth the risk when you can have something more certain.”

My breath catches in my throat, my heart stops. Every cell in my body seems to freeze in anticipation of his answer. “And?”

“Every fucking time,” is his coarse reply. “Every. Single. Time.”

Turning to face him, I crawl over to straddle him. Is he right? Does he mean it? About this night? About me? Us? He strokes my face and nibbles at my lips. His dark gaze is unwavering and filled with warmth that says, Yes, little girl, I fucking mean it. Reaching between us, I begin to undo his jeans again while he pulls his shirt that he gave me to wear over my head. We take our time stripping out of our clothes, kissing and touching with light, lingering movements.

Flattening my palms to his skin, I run them over the sharp lines of his torso, leaving the details etched in my mind. I don’t want to forget. Stubble stings my skin as he fucks his tongue in and out of my mouth. He’s heartbreakingly tender. It’s most likely because he’s always going to be scared he could hurt another living being. But what harm is there in believing it’s for me? Just for the evening. Tonight, this is real. Tomorrow? Who knows where we’ll stand.

Fingers stroke my breasts, and he groans against my lips as he slides his thumbs across my nipples that beg for his attention. I press my pussy to his hardness. I’m needy and aching, desperate for him. His erection pulses against my slit and sends a corresponding rush of wetness between my legs, but he’s unhurried in the way he touches me.

Until I can’t stand it anymore. The need to have him inside me is the only thing I can focus on. When he flips me onto my back and breaks our kiss long enough to reach for a condom, I can’t tear my gaze away from him. He drags the rubber over his cock, and I can barely stand the throbbing between my thighs. As he lowers himself over me, I spread my legs wide for him. His musky taste fills my senses as he drags his tongue along mine, his hard muscles fill my hands. His cock…

It takes my breath away. A gasp turns into a whimper as he moves inside me. It’s not the size of him, though I still feel like I’m clamped so tight around him despite the fact we’ve fucked a couple times tonight. It’s how hard he is, how he strokes something so deep inside me with his touch and his gaze that it tears me wide open. It’s the realness of it all while he thrusts inside me over and over until I’m lost in my orgasm, in the thrumming of my pulse, and my quick, stabbing breaths punctuated by his name. It’s the weight of his body on mine as he climaxes.

It’s the way I can’t remember why this wasn’t supposed to be like this.

***

Last night was…

Well, let’s just say I may never use my vibrator again. I’m pretty sure that if I did it would probably bounce around, barely touching the sides of the fathomless cavern Cas made of my vagina anyway. I curl a few strands of tangled hair around my finger and smile at the color. Cas likes it. Really likes it.

Maybe he even likes me?

After we had sex and a proper shower and more sex we finally collapsed into something approaching a coma. Cas on his back, his palm cupping my ass while I sprawled across him naked. The sheet pushed to the floor while the rattan fan overhead spun lazy circles. His chest rose and fell with his steady breaths, his heart pounded beneath my ear. I was so wired with so many thoughts going through my mind that sleep should have been impossible.

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