Page 95 of Fangirl Down

At that point, Wells had reached the breaking point.

Do you have everything you need?his achingly hot caddie had called through the bathroom door, giving him zero choice but to accept the opening.

Now, standing in a veritable whirlwind of her scent—vanilla and lilacs, wasn’t it?—he watched her approach through the open glass door of the shower, his dick swelling gratefully in his hand.Come on, baby, don’t stop. Almost here.Honestly, Wells wasn’t evensure fucking Josephine right now was a smart idea. His brain was still half fogged with the fear he’d lost her, his delirium compounded by the slap shot in the other direction when he saw her alive and well.

Inno waywould this be casual, despite how he’d made it seem.

Was he going to be able to have sex with this woman without professing his feelings and begging her to please, for the love of God, just cut the bullshit and belong to him?

Probably not. Maybe he should have kept his shorts on and left. Gone back to his lonely bachelor’s apartment in Miami.

But Josephine.

Being around her again was like waking up after a lung transplant and remembering what it’s like to breathe. He just wanted to get drunk on her oxygen. Was that so much to ask?

“Take off your clothes,” he requested hoarsely, releasing his cock and bracing a hand on the wall of the shower. Otherwise, all his pent-up sexual frustration was going to end up on the shower floor as soon as he saw her tits. “Strip for me, belle. I need to see you.”

She chewed her lip a moment, indecisive.

As a man who knew the strongest weapon in his arsenal—when it came to this particular woman—Wells turned around and let her see his ass. Eyes closed, he tipped his head forward beneath the hot shower spray, letting the water coast down over his back—and he held his breath, praying for Josephine to make the decision to climb in there with him.

Come on, belle. I need you.

Need me back.

His breath released in a gusty shudder when her palms slid up his wet back and Jesus, his cock saluted so fast, it nearly slapped up against his stomach. Godalmighty, the effect this woman had on him was unmatched. One touch and he had the urge to promisea bunch of ridiculous shit.You want to be carried around town on a silk pillow, Josephine? Hop on. I knew I had these arms for a reason.

Wow. He had problems.

Big ones.

Chief of which, he wanted to turn around anddemolishJosephine where she stood. Just wrap those beautiful legs around his waist, lick his tongue into her mouth, and pound his way to heaven while she whimpered and clawed at him. But based on her tentative, featherlight touch, they weren’t quite on the same page yet.

Stay cool. Calm the hell down.

Right. Easier said than done when his dick was stiffer than a flagpole in January.

And it only got worse when he felt Josephine’s tongue trailing up and down his spine, her hands gripping both sides of his ass and massaging. Rhythmically.

A hot ripple passed through Wells, his hand dying to wrap around his dick again.

No, don’t move. Don’t do anything that might make her stop.

“That’s yours if you want it, Josephine,” he panted, his hands turning to fists on the slick tile wall. What was he doing? Offering her ownership of hisass? He didn’t feel compelled to take back the proposition, though. If they weren’t in a dark bathroom with stars glowing overhead, steam muffling their voices, his proposition might have come across... bizarre? Definitely bizarre. In the thick of the moment, though, giving Josephine her favorite thing about him came naturally. Giving heranythingshe wanted was the only way to live. “Matter of fact, it’s been yours,” Wells said, without thinking.

Words were just leaving his mouth without orders from his brain. Had his fucking filter been carried down the shower drain along with the water?

And then his thoughts scattered like beads on a wooden floor, because Josephine whispered, “I accept” into his neck—and she rubbed a finger against his asshole.

“What the... ,” he said on a rushing exhale, his world tilting sideways. “Okay. Fuck.”

Briefly, her hand appeared to his left, picking up a square yellow bar of soap—the handmade shit, like the kind someone bought at a farmers’ market. Did she go to the farmers’ market? Why was he thinking about this? Probably because he had no right enjoying what Josephine was doing back there. She’d soaped her hand up really well, based on the slippery sudsiness of her palm and she was... cleaning him. Rubbing three whole fingers up and down, up and down... there. Like,rightthere.

Motherfucker, that felt good.

Feltgreat, knowing Josephine was the one doing it. Enjoying the hell out of it, too, if her fast breaths against his shoulders were any indication.

The longer she kept at it, the more his hand itched to beat his cock and finally he couldn’t hold off anymore, so he wrapped a fist around his inches, pumping hard. “Ohhh. Shit. What are you doing to me, baby?”

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