One More Time

I could taste myself on his lips as we kissed, long and deep. My hands got lost in that thick mess of hair of his, and there I was, practically begging him to fuck me again. Even though I'd climaxed once already, my body yearned for more. So much more. I had a hole inside of me that needed to be filled by him. A hole inside of me that maybe only he could ever fill completely.

“Eli, please –” I groaned.

He flipped me around, so my back was to him, and roughly grabbed hold of my ass, pulling it toward him. With an animalistic grunt, he pressed his dick against me. The fire inside of me burning bright, I pushed myself backward, taking him inside of me with a comfortable ease. As he shoved his cock into me, he held firmly onto my hips, guiding himself into just the right spot.

I braced myself against the wall as he moved inside of me. My body was filled with anticipation and I bit my bottom lip, waiting to feel him fuck me. When he pounded his stiff rod into me, filling me up completely, I cried out. In an instant, all of my doubts and fears were gone. In that moment, it was just his body and mine, united as one.

Eli's grunts were low, his movements desperate, his body stiff. His breathing was ragged, and his jaw was clenched tight. I knew he was close and I wanted nothing more than to make him lose control. I wanted nothing more than to make him feel as good as he made me feel with his mouth. I tightened the muscles inside of me around his cock, and Eli gasped. He dug his nails into the flesh of my hips and drove himself into me harder, his pace becoming frantic.

The sounds he was making, coupled with his dick pumping in and out of me, sent me down into the abyss of pleasure once more. I barely kept my legs under me, barely remained upright as a wave of pleasure crashed down over me, taking me by surprise. Eli held onto me tightly as my body trembled, my muscles clenched, and my voice came out in stuttering gasps. He held me tightly as my orgasm tore through me, and just as I finished climaxing, I felt him pull his cock out of me and saw the streams of cum shooting from his dick and onto the shower floor. He managed to pull out this time – which was for the best – but as I watched his seed wash down the drain, it felt like a waste.

Eli helped me to stand again, holding me pressed against his body until my legs were steady. Once they were, I turned to face him. His eyes were heavy, but the look on his face was one of complete satisfaction. I imagine I had the same look on my face because Eli smiled at me, and kissed the tip of my nose.

“What was it you wanted to talk about again, Hannah?” he asked, his voice gravely and breathless.

“Nothing,” I mumbled, leaning into his chest. “It can wait.”

Eli wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tightly. As we stood there with the water washing down over us, I listened to his heart beating against my ear. The water was warm, soothing, and surrounded us in billowing clouds of steam.

Eli took my purple shower sponge, squeezed out some of my body wash onto it, and gently started washing me. He gently scrubbed me from my neck down to my toes, not missing a single inch of my skin. I closed my eyes and let myself get caught up in the moment – the feel of his hands on my body, the gentle kisses along my face, neck and collar bone as he washed me.

We'd never showered together before, this was a first. Given that this ver

y well might be the last time this happened, I wanted to savor every precious minute. It felt like the second we stepped out of the steamy confines of my shower, the real world would hit us, and hit us hard. At that point, I knew I'd be forced to deal with the reality of the situation.

The reality, of course, was that we weren't good for each other. I would end up hurt if I continued down this path with my stepbrother, and I knew it. Even still, I'd never felt as loved as I did in that shower with him.

No one had ever loved me the way Eli had, and part of me was afraid no one ever would.

Chapter Nine

Elijah

I wrapped Hannah in a towel after we stepped out of the shower. I knew she had her doubts about me – or rather, about us – and I wanted to show her that I could be better. For her. That this could work, that she didn't have to keep running away from me and putting up walls that kept us apart. I knew, deep down in my heart, that Hannah and I could be good together. Good for each other.

Except, the moment we shut off the water and stepped out of the steamy, protective cocoon of the shower, I saw that walls were already being built back up. I could see it in her eyes.

“You should probably check on the baby,” she said.

Her body was as stiff as a corpse as I held her close – and with all the warmth of one too. She wouldn't look at me directly. Though, from the brief glimpses I did get from her, I saw the guilt and regret written all over her face.

“Aubree is fine. I fed her, changed her and she should be good for a while,” I said.

Her hair was damp and falling around her face, and I pushed it back behind her ear. She recoiled slightly from my touch, sending a sliver of pain into my heart. Cupping her chin in my hands, I turned her face, forcing her to look up at me.

“It's you that I'm worried about, Hannah,” I said. “One minute you're begging for my cock, the next, you shut down completely and won't even talk to me.”

I leaned down to kiss her, but she stepped back, putting some distance between us. Yep, there were the familiar walls I'd grown to hate so much. Just when I thought I'd torn them down for good, she managed to put thicker, sturdier ones in their place. It was a constant and never-ending battle with her.

She stormed out of the bathroom and into her bedroom. I stood in the doorway looking at her as she collapsed into her bed, face first into a pillow and let out a muffled scream. The scream sounded angry, but it was quickly followed by the sound of choked sobs that caused her fragile little frame to tremble.

Nothing in the world hurt as much as seeing someone you love crying. It broke me every single time. I just stood there, unsure of what to do. If I went to her, would I make things worse? Was I making things harder for her? If only she'd talk to me. If only she'd tell me what was going through her mind. Maybe even what I could do to make things better. To help bridge the gap between us.

“Hannah, I don't know what you want me to do,” I said sheepishly.

She didn't answer me.

“Hannah?”