Page 51 of Sweet Nothings

Laurel looks up at me as droplets of water stream down her face.

The corner of my mouth curls, but my chest aches. The reason behind my tattoo sits on the tip of my tongue, but I hold back. I’m too focused on Laurel to dig deep into the parts of my soul I’ve refused to acknowledge for the past six years.

I want to tell her I haven’t forgotten about our night together and I carry the proof with me on my skin as a reminder. Because for so long, I was convinced I’d never feel the way I felt that night.

My father made sure of it. Injected it into my bones.

But I’ve been determined not to forget. I want to open up to Laurel, but every time I’ve been given the opportunity, I freeze. The words get stuck in my messy, unorganized heart.

“It’s from a Beatles song,” I tell her, focusing back on the tattoo she’s seen.

She accepts my answer without further interrogation, trailing her fingers down the center of my chest. She’s moved on, desire sparking in her gaze. My cock has sprung to life, hard as a rock and begging to be inside Laurel.

“What do you want?” I tease.

Wrapping her hand around my length, she tugs on it, jerking me forward. I grunt, pressing my fingers into the wall.

“I want my husband to fuck me,” she whispers, tilting her chin up. Her filthy words fall on her innocent voice.

“We can make that happen.” I bend my knees slightly, grabbing onto the back of Laurel’s knees. She inhales that familiar sharp breath again when she wraps her legs around me. I push her back against the wall. Her arms drape over my shoulders, and when I pull my hips back and slide my cock inside her, her nails cut into my flesh.

“Oh, my God.” Her head tilts back against the tile. Black streaks of mascara and bits of shimmering glitter from her eyeshadow cover her cheeks, dripping down to her faded red lipstick. She’s bared herself to me. Open, raw, and gorgeous.

Once I’ve slid my entire length inside her, we both remain still, allowing the feeling to settle between us.

“Fuck,” I breathe out. “Your pussy feels fucking amazing, Mrs. Harding.”

“I told you I’ve been wet for you all night,” she pants, tightening her legs around my waist. “You weren’t kidding when you said you wanted me begging for you.”

“Right. Beg for it.” I grunt, sliding myself out of her before pushing myself back in. I pump myself into her a few more times, watching as her face transforms with every thrust. I’m holding her up, pressed against the wall. She tilts her head back,exposing her neck to me. I press my mouth to her neck, licking her wet skin.

“Please, Lennon,” she cries out, clawing at my chest.

“Please, what?”

“Faster,” she moans. “Harder.”

I do as she says. Being with Laurel now is different than the night we fucked in my car. Not because it’s been six years, but because this time I haven’t been drinking. I’m completely fucking sober. My mind is clear and focused. And now, being inside Laurel is even better than I remember.

I wrap one hand under the bottom of her leg, holding her up. I drive my cock into her again and try my best not to slam her body too hard against the stone tile. The full curve of her body fills my hand. Her full breasts are pushed against my inked chest. She’s soft and supple, wet and smooth. I thrust in and out of her, and the faster and harder I move, the tighter she gets.

“Fuck, Mrs. Harding.” I grunt. “I’m about to come, so you’d better come with me.”

“Why?” she asks, rolling her hips off the wall. “You watched me come without you in the greenhouse. Don’t you think it’s my turn to have the privilege of watching you come undone beneath me.”

“Fuck that.” She yelps when I slip myself out of her. Her feet fall to the floor. I quickly plant a kiss on her swollen mouth before gripping her hip and spinning her around.

She places her hands above her head, against the wall, breathing heavily in anticipation. Reaching up, I grab the shower head, adjust the settings to the one I want, and bring it to her front. Her head is dipped low, but when I press the pulsating jet of water to her clit, she lifts her head and gasps.

“Oh, my God, Lennon,” she breathes.

Pulling her hips back, I find her entrance, driving my cock into her from the back. Pushing against the wall, she presses herhips into me, taking my full length as I continue to work her clit from the front.

The air in the shower grows cold. The chill creeps along our skin as I keep the stream of water pressed against Laurel’s swollen clit. All the blood rushes to my cock.

I’ve spent so much time teasing and playing with Laurel, I didn’t realize I was also doing the same to myself. I lean forward, keeping the showerhead in front of her and rocking my hips.

“Are you close to coming?” I growl.

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