I stand up. I tower over her. The water on my back is lukewarm at best and turning quickly, but I rest an arm over her head, teasing her lips with mine. She tastes herself in light, quick kisses, each one longer. Her hands wander over my body, leaving trails of fire all the way to my cock.
She gives me long, hard strokes, her tongue in my mouth. I groan and lean into her, seeking out the warmth of her body for what feels like the first time and the millionth. The water is cool against my back but she strokes me again and bites my lip, drawing me toward her.
Her other hand is on my back. It pauses.
“We used all the hot water, didn’t we?” she murmurs.
“We? You’re the one who was in here for twenty minutes,” I tell her.
She gives me a slow stroke, tip to root, root to tip. There’s a noise in my chest that I don’t mean to make.
“I was trying to wake up,” she says, and her hand leaves my back. She leans forward, turns the faucet and the water stops.
I kiss her one more time. I’m tempted to fuck her right here, against the wall, but it’s not what I want. I don’t want to worry about balancing or about slipping.
I want her hard and fast and deep. I want to make my body a part of hers and I want to never let go.
So I take her in my arms, carefully step out of the shower, and carry her to the bedroom. Violet laughs. I toss her onto her bed, still wet, and she bounces once, sits on the edge, pulling me in.
“I have legs,” she teases.
“I know. They’re great for spreading,” I say, pushing her knees apart. She grabs my cock again and we kiss.
We move onto the bed. It’s harder, rougher. She’s on her back under me and I’m over her, cock in her hands, the tip bumping against her slick wetness with every stroke.
It takes all my self-control not to sink into that perfect tight channel, but I don’t.
“Hold on,” I murmur, and reach for her nightstand.
“Don’t,” she says.
I look down at her.
“I went on the pill a few weeks ago,” she says. “I was gonna surprise you, so… surprise?”
“I’m surprised,” I say.
I wander a hand down her body: shoulder, nipple, belly. I thumb her clit and watch her eyes go half-mast.
“Fuck me bare,” she whispers. “Please?”
The words take my breath away. My cock aches, throbs. I thumb her clit once more.
“Say it again,” I growl.
“Why?”
“I like hearing you say it,” I tell her.
“Fuck me bare, Eli,” Violet murmurs. “I want you inside me with nothing between us — oh, fuck.”
I’m inside her with one thrust, her tight channel enveloping me to the hilt, her legs locking around me. It’s beautiful, perfect, overwhelming. I have to stop for a moment, afraid I’ll embarrass myself.
“Like that?” I whisper.
“Yes,” she whispers back, her breath catching in her throat. “God, Eli, you feel so good.”
She could say it a million times and I’d never get tired of hearing it. I fuck her again, slowly, gently. I feel her melt as I hit every sensitive spot inside her, her legs tightening, her hips moving and rolling.
“Tell me I’m yours,” I tell her, sinking in.
“You’re mine,” she says, stifling a moan.
Her breath catches. I find her knee, maneuver it over my shoulder. She pulls me deeper.
“Tell me I’m yours,” she says, eyes at half-mast.
“You’re mine,” I answer.
We move harder, faster. She pulls me and I push together, bodies hammering together like pistons in an engine, smooth perfect machinery.
I want more. I need more. I know it will never be enough but I need more like I need air. I kiss her and she bites me, gasping, whispering fuck me, Eli into my mouth, and I know that’s the signal.
I pull out and she rolls over as I hand her a pillow. She shoves it under her hips and I slide back inside her again, the rhythm barely interrupted. Violet arches her back, on her forearms, her ankles wrapped around my legs.
I bury myself so deep I see stars, my head on her shoulder, her channel gripping me like a fist.
“Eli,” she whispers.
I slide my hand over hers, fingers tangling. I squeeze her until my knuckles are white and she squeezes right back, our bodies locked into a union.
This is love. I’ve known it for a while but the understanding flashes through me again as I move inside her, as I feel her body underneath me and worship it with my own.
It’s love. It’s dirty and rough, physical and tangible, but it’s love. The way I need her like this is love. The way I feel her in my soul is love. The way she says my name, the way she moves, the way she shudders and moans and says come inside me is love.