Page 17 of Before We Say I Do

He turned to leave, but she caught his arm. Looking back, he connected with the desire in her eyes.

“Please. Stay.”

He stripped out of his clothes, tossing away the T-shirt and shorts and sliding out of his slippers. Inside the shower, the water sprayed against their flesh as he moved behind her, their bodies grazing one another—her ass to his dick.

“I missed you today,” she purred, biting her lip as their bodies tightened, sealing as if the water was the glue that kept them together.

His arms closed around her waist, fingers dancing up her flat belly as his mouth kissed along her naked shoulder.

“I miss you every second you’re away,” he murmured.

She moved her hips, grinding into him as her head fell back, covering his hands with hers while he moved to cup her breasts.

A hot shiver slipped through London’s soul, and she sucked in a breath, ignited by his touch, molding into the hard contour of his physique.

His tongue left his mouth, traced up her neck, bit into her flesh, arms tightening, lifting her frame with the grip from his solid biceps.

She followed his lead, lifting her legs as one of his strong hands dropped to the back of her thigh, spreading her wide, his upturned dick caressing her pussy.

Back and forth, slipping into her folds, sliding inside her sanctuary, grazing against her walls, deep, wet, a spearing expedition.

“Aaaah!”

Her body arched into him, shuddering, nipples hard, ears exploding as if at high altitude.

“Baby…” she purred.

“Eu te amo borboleta.” I love you butterfly.

His hips rocked. In and out, on a melody of pure satisfaction from a skilled violinist. Moans covered them as they cried out. London was rocked by Kyle’s passionate strokes, and Kyle felt an animalistic transition as his fingers gripped her flesh, heat filling his veins, their bodies colliding, a growl on the precipice of his flooding desire.

She stretched her arms behind him, linking her limbs with his neck, completely open to him.

Slaps of wet penetration became an orchestra their sex created as Kyle bounced her in his grip, sliding her up and down his washboard abs, their bodies bending and stretching like that of a concertina accordion.

“Ooooooh!”

London’s eyes fell closed, and a jerk shook through her soul. At her ear, Kyle nibbled her lobe.

Then…

“Open your eyes.”

Pop. Pop. Pop.

Her eyes shot open as their skin slapped, and her fingers stretched, then tightened, her nails digging into his neck.

“Kyle!”

“Borboleta…”

Slap. Slap. Slap.

“Aaah!”

Heat consumed them, and their bodies exploded with tingles mixed with the rhythmic beat of the shower’s spray. The love they shared was an intense need to fulfill one another in every sexual way to satisfy a lover.

Kyle’s hips dipped, his erection plunging in sync with the erratic beat of her heart.

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