Page 58 of Facet

We turned the water on, and once it was warm, we climbed in. He washed my hair, massaging my scalp, and carefully detangling it with conditioner. Then he poured body wash onto my hot pink scrubby, and gently soaped me up, from my neck to my feet. He hung the scrubby back up and let his hands roam and massage over my knotted muscles.

I braced my hands on the wall and moaned softly as he rubbed circles down my spine with his thumbs. I sighed. “That feels so good.”

Suddenly, his smooth but hard cock bounced lightly off my ass. “Fuck, I’m sorry about that—he has a mind of his own.”

“Mmm,” I hummed as I pushed my butt back until his length was tucked in the crease of my cheeks.

“Willow, you’re killing me,” he groaned and dropped his forehead to my shoulder. “We can’t.”

“Says who?” I asked as I rubbed up against him.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Are you hurting?”

“No. Physically, I feel like a million bucks,” he admitted, his warm breath blowing across my back.

“Good,” I murmured, adjusting my hips so I was able to catch him between my legs.

“Fuuuck,” he drawled as I tilted so he slid in and out of that tight space at the apex of my thighs.

Needing to feel him and know we were both okay, I rested my cheek on the tiles and reached down to line him up. When the tip was inside me, he paused.

“Are you sure?” he asked, sounding out of breath. One of his large hands was splayed on the wall next to mine. With the other one, he reached around to tease my clit with his index finger. Then he moved mine out of the way to touch where we were joined.

“Damien, please. Fuck me,” I pleaded.

With a grunt, he pushed in, stroking in and out until he filled me. “I never want this to end.”

“If it doesn’t, we’re gonna prune up and miss breakfast,” I intentionally misinterpreted his statement.

He laughed lightly. “You know what I mean.”

“Then don’t ever stop. Because I will love you until I take my last breath and probably beyond.”

He didn’t say anything further, he simply withdrew and then drove back in.

I sucked in a hissed breath.

“Did I hurt you?” He had stopped mid stroke and I whined.

“God, no! Please, don’t stop!”

And he didn’t. He gave me everything I needed.

When we were drying off, he dropped his towel and pulled me close. My breasts smashed against his chest as he cradled my head and kissed me like it was our last. Reluctantly, we broke free to breathe, but we gave sporadic pecks as if we couldn’t bear to stop.

Then he grabbed my ass and lifted me. I squealed and immediately hooked my legs around his narrow waist. He carried us to the bed and gently laid me down so he could crawl in behind me.

We fell asleep, wrapped up in each other in a tangle of limbs.

That time, I dreamed of our future and a dark-haired little boy with smokey-gray eyes that had flecks of green. A little boy who only knew love and security.

A little boy that was born of our love.

“Willow! Your parents will be here in fifteen minutes! I need a little help here!” I shouted as I wrestled like I was in the WWE.

Laughter pealed from the bedroom doorway, and I glared at my wife.

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