Page 32 of Chicago Sin
Instead, I find myself testing the bathroom door. And when I find it open, I take it as an invitation. My clothes drop to her floor before the thought to strip even forms. I pull back the shower curtain and step in.
Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t recoil. She stares at my body. I look down. I’ve been so damn disconnected from it, I don’t even know what I look like anymore. My chest is hairy, and I lack any color from the sun. I was bigger when I went into prison. The extra layer of meat has hardened into sinew and muscle.
She doesn’t seem to mind what she sees because her lips part like she wants to taste me. I take my time running my gaze all over her luscious form.
It’s perfect. She’s short but curvy, with a narrow waist, round breasts and heart-shaped ass. A chain of flowers is tattooed around her upper arm with a small, winged fairy sitting on the top of one of the buds. Her skin is a smooth brown. She’s nothing like the kind of girls I’ve been with before. She’s real. Beautiful.
I watch the rivulets of water stream over her dark nipples. I want to lick the droplets from them. Scratch that. I’m going to lick the droplets from her skin. I pull the curtain closed behind me and pin her against the tile wall, my mouth moving over hers with all the force of pent-up aggression.
I don’t know if it’s going nearly five years without sex or because Hannah does something special to me, but I can’t seem to dial back my sexual aggression with her. Fortunately, she’s willing. Her arms loop around my shoulders, and she lifts one leg around my waist to give me the angle I need to get inside her.
“Condom,” she gasps between kisses.
Condom. Fuck. How could I forget it?
“Don’t fucking move,” I growl, pinning her back against the wall with my hand between her tits and waiting a beat for my order to set in.
Then I yank back the shower curtain and fish in my pants pocket for a condom out of my wallet. I rip it open and stand, rolling it over my length.
“Good girl,” I say because she hasn’t moved an inch from where I left her. “Come here.” I pick up her thigh and find her entrance with the sheathed head of my cock, prodding it until I find the sweet spot where it starts to slide in. “That’s right,” I murmur as I feed the head in slowly. “Take it.”
She grips my shoulders, pulling me closer.
“Take every inch.” I keep pushing forward, all the way, until I’m fully seated. Then I prop one foot on the tub, her thigh draped over the top of mine, and start thrusting.
It’s pure heaven. The last time I fucked her, I was out of my mind with need. This time, I savor every sweet thrust. The slick of our skin sliding together, the heat of her tight welcoming channel.
I take her hands from my shoulders and pin them up against the tile. Not for me—I like the feel of her nails scoring my skin—but for her. Because I’m testing what she likes. How she likes it. It works—maybe too well because her eyes roll back, foot slips. I hold her wrists with one hand and use the other to hoist her ass up, holding her in place.
I should say something—praise her. Tell her how much I like it. I used to know how to dirty talk up one side of a building and down the other. Now I’m so fucking rusty at speaking to another human being. I force my lips to move. “So good, Hannah.” It comes out like gravel. Or sandpaper. Deep and ragged. “You feel so good.”
She moans softly, and I take it as encouragement.
I don’t want it to end, but my hips have a mind of their own, snapping hard, pumping deeper.
She starts making those sexy noises again, and my brain short-circuits. I get too hot from the warm water and steam and my blood pumping straight to my cock. My head’s getting light, which isn’t good, since I’m the one holding us up.
I pull the shower curtain open by a foot to let in some air and fuck her harder. I forget to hold her wrists because my hands are roaming her body, squeezing her breast, gripping her waist, kneading her ass.
“God, you feel so fucking good,” I moan, my voice breathy and hoarse. She arches her back, pressing her chest against my own, and I swear I feel her heart beating in rhythm with mine.
I’m lost in the sensation of our slick skin sliding against each other and the warmth and pressure from her tight grip around me. I’m so close... just a few more thrusts, and I’ll go over the edge.
But before I do, I reach one hand around and slip my fingers between us, finding her clit and circling it softly. She gasps, and I feel her walls quiver around me as she comes.
I brush my lips against her neck, sending trails of tingling sensation down her spine as I continue to thrust into her.
My breathing gets faster as I feel my climax approaching, and I grab onto her hips tightly as I plunge deeper and deeper into her, wanting to savor every moment. She cries out as her body convulses around mine.
My balls draw up and pump. I shout and grip her ass with both hands and then bury myself deep as I come. She tips her pelvis to take me deeper, rubbing her clit over my root until she comes, too. Her muscles squeeze my dick in quick pulses, and I come even harder, filling the condom.
I lean my forehead against hers, breathing with her, my dick pulsing and twitching inside her. Our mingled breaths slow. The water’s turning cold. I don’t want to ever pull out, but I do. I ease out and turn off the water, then step out of the shower to dispose of the condom. The water ran all over the floor because I opened the curtain, so I drop the hand towel down on it and wrap Hannah in the other one. She’s still leaning up against the tile looking dazed, so I help her out of the tub, supporting her in case her legs don’t work.
She points shakily at the cabinet, murmuring something unintelligible. I open it and find another towel, which I use to dry off.
“Wow,” she murmurs.
I turn to face her as I towel off my hair. “Yeah. Thanks.”
