Page 130 of Summertime Friends

I stumble backward at her confidence and, well, what she’s doing to herself. Finding the doorway for support, I lean against it, making myself comfortable for the show.

Up against the glass, through the steam coating the panes, I see Emerson’s body. Her womanly curves, erect nipples, and her head thrown back from the pleasure she’s bringing herself.

One hand working inside of her. She alternates between pumping in and out and circling them inside.

Her other hand makes its way up to her breast.

I’m biting my lip, trying not to lose all control this minute. This is one of the hottest things Emerson has ever done.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask her.

“You.” Her head rolls forward, and our eyes lock for a split second before her gaze drops to my dick, my hand slowly moving up and down. “I always think about you. I pretend that my hand is yours and that the fingers inside of me are longer, thicker, and stronger. Filling and stretching me more than I can.”

I always think of you.I always thought of her, too.

“Liam,” she whimpers.

I can’t take this anymore.

I cover the distance from the doorway to the shower, turning up 'She Looks So Perfect’ playing on her phone. It’s probably the fastest I’ve ever moved in my thirty years of life.

“Don’t finish,” I command her. She listens and drops her hand as she turns around to face me. “Good, States. Now turn around and get on your knees.”

She listens, sinking down onto the tile. “Hands, too.” Emerson listens like a good girl. “Now crawl to me.”

I’m on the opposite side of the shower. On all fours, Emerson starts moving towards me. Deliberately slow, looking up at methrough her long, black lashes. Green eyes inflamed with desire. Water runs along the curve of her spine and off her ass.

I take an audible breath as she gets closer. Trying to refrain myself from releasing before I get to taste or touch her. She stops, rising to her knees in front of me.

“Let me see your hand.”

“Which one?” Emerson asks playfully.

“You know which one.”

She stretches her arm up, putting her hand in front of my face. I lean my mouth to her fingers, circling one of the two that were inside of her with my tongue before sucking the digit into my mouth.

I remove her hand, moving it in front of her face. Holding her wrist, I tell her, “Now you.”

She takes her middle finger into her mouth. Cheeks hollow out as she imitates what I did to her pointer finger.

Her eyes flare, and she can barely cry out when I replace her finger with myself, thrusting into her mouth.

My hands are tangled in her hair as I get off in her mouth. Her eyes watch my movements. My eyes watch her take me so well.

Heads did win the coin flip, after all.

Emerson swallows and stands in front of me. Her mouth is on mine as if it wasn’t even a thought. I place my hands on the back of her thighs. I pick her up, pushing her up against the black tiles. Her legs are wrapped around me as we kiss.

“Am I allowed to finish yet?” She says, mouth still on mine.

“No,” I reply, bringing her down onto me. I thrust into her, picking up her pleasure where she left off patiently.

Emerson shifts her body down onto me. The sensation has my eyes rolling. “Whatever that was, do it again and you can finish.”

She does. Again, and again, and again, until we are a mess of moans and us.

We shower off—I actually bathe her this time, then pack our bags to head back to Chicago.

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