Taming the Storm
Page 80
Tom is watching at me.
The look in his eyes sets my body trembling under the intensity of his stare.
He moves a step closer, putting us both under the water. We’re body-to-body, my breasts crushed up against his chest. He takes my face in his hands, and he kisses me.
His kiss is deep and full with meaning. A kiss that feels like good-bye.
Though my heart is breaking under the weight of it, I can’t bring myself to stop, and in this moment, I realize that I will take anything Tom has to give me. Any scrap of him that he throws my way, I’ll gladly have.
He kisses me like time has become meaningless as though we have all the time in the world.
I’m brought crashing down to earth when he parts his lips from mine. And I’m reminded that time is relevant and that I have very little left with him.
Mere hours.
I want to make the most of all those hours. Picking up a sponge, I squeeze shower gel onto it, and I begin washing his body. I run the sponge over his clean-cut lines, memorizing every part of his body, until I’m on my knees, staring up at him. He’s already hard, his eyes blazing down at me. After smoothing my palm up his thigh and across the cut of his pelvis, I take his cock in my hand. I grab the bottle of shower gel. Squeezing some into my hand, I start to rub it all over his cock, working up a slippery lather.
Tom groans. His fingers graze my jaw. “Suck me.”
Hands against his hips, I push him back under the spray, letting the water run down his body, washing the soap from his cock. Then, opening up, I slide his steely length between my lips. I love the rumble of pleasure that comes from him and the way his hand goes to the shower wall to steady himself.
I suck him until he’s coming in my mouth, and I greedily swallow every drop he gives me.
Tom pulls me to my feet. His heated praise is still echoing in my mind as he moves me under the spray. Then, he starts to wash my body. Soapy hands linger on my boobs, his eyes not straying from them.
“You really do have the best tits I’ve ever seen, Firecracker.”
I let out a laugh. “You have a serious boob obsession.”
He runs his finger down the valley of my breasts. Moving across, he circles a nipple.
A bolt of lust shoots between my thighs.
“No, I just have an obsession with your boobs.” He presses his finger hard against my nipple. Then, his other hand comes up, and he cups them both.
I arch into his touch.
Soapy thumbs tease my nipples. “Your tits are amazing. Fucking perfection. I’ve never seen a rack as perfect before, and I never will again.”
I think he sees it flash in my eyes—our ending, the pain I feel at the thought—because his hands quickly leaves my boobs, and one finds its way between my legs. He pushes his finger inside me.
My head falls back on a moan, which Tom captures with his mouth. He kisses me hard, while fingering me.
Then, his finger is pulling out, and he’s moving down my body, his tongue licking the running water from my skin. He lifts my leg, resting it over his shoulder, and he presses his mouth to me.
“Oh God.” I brace my hand against the shower wall. Tom’s hands grip my ass, supporting me.
I’m coming minutes later, my lips crying out his name.
My body is still shuddering with aftershocks when Tom gets to his feet, and starts to wash my hair.
After turning off the shower, he steps out and wraps a towel around his waist. Then, he comes to me and wraps me in a big, fluffy white towel before leading me back to the bedroom.
Drying my skin and squeezing the excess water from my hair, I watch as Tom drops his towel to the floor, and I’m surprised that he’s once again hard.
He pulls back the bed covers.
I climb into bed.
He turns the music and lights off.
Then, he gets into bed, crawling up between my legs.
In the dark, Tom stares down at me, his fingers working through my damp hair.
He lowers his mouth to mine, kissing me softly, and then he’s pressing against my entrance.
A soft moan leaves me as he slowly enters me. His kiss quickly turns deep…passionate. His movements become more intense…urgent.
He cradles my head in his hands, his eyes locked with mine, his look worshipping, as he moves inside me.
In this darkness, for this one last time, I let myself believe that Tom is making love to me.
When I’m coming, I close my eyes, so he won’t see the tears in them.
Tom comes seconds later. His cock buried deep inside me, his face pressed into my neck, his hot breath burning my skin, while he marks my insides with his come.
Then, without moving out of me, he rolls us over, putting me on top of him. His hand holds my head to his chest, and he presses a kiss to my hair.
We don’t speak. No good nights, no good-byes.
And this how I fall asleep—my body wrapped around Tom’s, our chests pressed together, while my heart bleeds out of my own and straight into his.
The Next Morning—Tom’s House, LA
I wake up on my back, the warmth of the sun on my face.
Turning my head, squinting against the bright morning light, I find I’m alone in bed.
Sitting up, I slide my legs over the edge of the bed, letting my toes sink into the soft carpet. I see Tom’s belt that he used on me last night on the floor, and I register the slight soreness in my ass as a vivid memory of Tom moving inside me comes to surface.
I close my eyes, letting it wash over me.
How he felt. How I felt.
Everything about last night was perfect.
But last night is over. And this is the harsh reality of morning.
The look in his eyes sets my body trembling under the intensity of his stare.
He moves a step closer, putting us both under the water. We’re body-to-body, my breasts crushed up against his chest. He takes my face in his hands, and he kisses me.
His kiss is deep and full with meaning. A kiss that feels like good-bye.
Though my heart is breaking under the weight of it, I can’t bring myself to stop, and in this moment, I realize that I will take anything Tom has to give me. Any scrap of him that he throws my way, I’ll gladly have.
He kisses me like time has become meaningless as though we have all the time in the world.
I’m brought crashing down to earth when he parts his lips from mine. And I’m reminded that time is relevant and that I have very little left with him.
Mere hours.
I want to make the most of all those hours. Picking up a sponge, I squeeze shower gel onto it, and I begin washing his body. I run the sponge over his clean-cut lines, memorizing every part of his body, until I’m on my knees, staring up at him. He’s already hard, his eyes blazing down at me. After smoothing my palm up his thigh and across the cut of his pelvis, I take his cock in my hand. I grab the bottle of shower gel. Squeezing some into my hand, I start to rub it all over his cock, working up a slippery lather.
Tom groans. His fingers graze my jaw. “Suck me.”
Hands against his hips, I push him back under the spray, letting the water run down his body, washing the soap from his cock. Then, opening up, I slide his steely length between my lips. I love the rumble of pleasure that comes from him and the way his hand goes to the shower wall to steady himself.
I suck him until he’s coming in my mouth, and I greedily swallow every drop he gives me.
Tom pulls me to my feet. His heated praise is still echoing in my mind as he moves me under the spray. Then, he starts to wash my body. Soapy hands linger on my boobs, his eyes not straying from them.
“You really do have the best tits I’ve ever seen, Firecracker.”
I let out a laugh. “You have a serious boob obsession.”
He runs his finger down the valley of my breasts. Moving across, he circles a nipple.
A bolt of lust shoots between my thighs.
“No, I just have an obsession with your boobs.” He presses his finger hard against my nipple. Then, his other hand comes up, and he cups them both.
I arch into his touch.
Soapy thumbs tease my nipples. “Your tits are amazing. Fucking perfection. I’ve never seen a rack as perfect before, and I never will again.”
I think he sees it flash in my eyes—our ending, the pain I feel at the thought—because his hands quickly leaves my boobs, and one finds its way between my legs. He pushes his finger inside me.
My head falls back on a moan, which Tom captures with his mouth. He kisses me hard, while fingering me.
Then, his finger is pulling out, and he’s moving down my body, his tongue licking the running water from my skin. He lifts my leg, resting it over his shoulder, and he presses his mouth to me.
“Oh God.” I brace my hand against the shower wall. Tom’s hands grip my ass, supporting me.
I’m coming minutes later, my lips crying out his name.
My body is still shuddering with aftershocks when Tom gets to his feet, and starts to wash my hair.
After turning off the shower, he steps out and wraps a towel around his waist. Then, he comes to me and wraps me in a big, fluffy white towel before leading me back to the bedroom.
Drying my skin and squeezing the excess water from my hair, I watch as Tom drops his towel to the floor, and I’m surprised that he’s once again hard.
He pulls back the bed covers.
I climb into bed.
He turns the music and lights off.
Then, he gets into bed, crawling up between my legs.
In the dark, Tom stares down at me, his fingers working through my damp hair.
He lowers his mouth to mine, kissing me softly, and then he’s pressing against my entrance.
A soft moan leaves me as he slowly enters me. His kiss quickly turns deep…passionate. His movements become more intense…urgent.
He cradles my head in his hands, his eyes locked with mine, his look worshipping, as he moves inside me.
In this darkness, for this one last time, I let myself believe that Tom is making love to me.
When I’m coming, I close my eyes, so he won’t see the tears in them.
Tom comes seconds later. His cock buried deep inside me, his face pressed into my neck, his hot breath burning my skin, while he marks my insides with his come.
Then, without moving out of me, he rolls us over, putting me on top of him. His hand holds my head to his chest, and he presses a kiss to my hair.
We don’t speak. No good nights, no good-byes.
And this how I fall asleep—my body wrapped around Tom’s, our chests pressed together, while my heart bleeds out of my own and straight into his.
The Next Morning—Tom’s House, LA
I wake up on my back, the warmth of the sun on my face.
Turning my head, squinting against the bright morning light, I find I’m alone in bed.
Sitting up, I slide my legs over the edge of the bed, letting my toes sink into the soft carpet. I see Tom’s belt that he used on me last night on the floor, and I register the slight soreness in my ass as a vivid memory of Tom moving inside me comes to surface.
I close my eyes, letting it wash over me.
How he felt. How I felt.
Everything about last night was perfect.
But last night is over. And this is the harsh reality of morning.
