My Killer Vacation - Page 63

“You’re still cold, right?” I ask, gesturing to the shower.

She nods.

The bathroom is already beginning to fill up with steam.

She’s two feet away from me with her bandaged head, asking me for comfort with her incredible green eyes. I’m hanging by a thread and it frays even more. And more when she looks down at the outline of my erection, wets her lips…and strips off her tank top.

Oh yeah.

Fuck. Those tits.

That tank top must have had one of those built-in bra things, because she sure as shit isn’t wearing one now. Just those tight pants—

And they go next. Slowly. She hooks her thumbs in the waistband and bends forward, sliding the material down her hips, over the smooth globes of her ass. Leave the bathroom, I order myself, when her thong is on fully display. But I’m glued to the spot. What man wouldn’t be with this fucking princess giving him a striptease, steam from the shower making her tits and belly and shoulders and cheeks dewy? Making her glow? Especially when the princess wears her underwear just this side of tight and when she straightens, kicking away her pants, there is nothing left to the imagination.

“That pussy might as well be out. I can see every little inch of it.”

She steps into the shower, letting herself get covered in warm water, and watching the thong get plastered to her sex, I start to pant, my hand tightening on the edge of the glass shower door. “If you want it out, make it that way,” she murmurs, her voice blending in with the pelting water, making this all sound like a dream. Yeah, a dream. Reality drifts further and further away as she soaps her body. Her chest and thighs and her panties. She soaps up that sweet mound right through the purple material and I lose it. My reservations hit the deck and I reach into the shower, wrap an arm around her waist, ripping her out of the stall with a growl.

I carry her dripping across the bathroom floor and slap that tight ass down on the vanity, already unzipping my jeans. And she’s killing me, absolutely slaying me in her current state of dripping wet, suds sliding down her nipples and belly, lips parted and whimpering. I shouldn’t have let my lust triple and quadruple and turn infinite like this. Now she’s got a head bandage and I’m too hard to do anything but bang her into next weekend.

“Taylor,” I grunt, shuddering with relief when I finally get my cock free from behind my confining zipper. My body is screaming at me to rip off her soaked thong, enter her in a hard pump and don’t stop until I come. But this fucking adoration, this…way she has my chest in a vise, has me tilting her chin up and looking her in the eye. “Tell me you’re not too hurt for this. Tell me you’re not just shaken up and needing comfort.”

“I do. I need comfort. Just from you.” She trails a finger down my stomach and up the underside of my cock, causing me to grit a curse. “But I’ve wanted this, too. And I wanted it before today. It’s not the aftermath talking, Myles.”

“If I took advantage of you, I’d never forgive myself—”

“You wouldn’t.” She kisses me once, twice, lingering pecks. “You couldn’t.”

“Tell me you trust me,” I beg against her mouth while my hands yank her to the edge of the vanity. Quick. Her soaked sex colliding with my cock, pushing it up against my stomach.

“I trust you,” she says, unevenly, searching my eyes.

And warning bells are going off. This isn’t just sex. We’ve barely started and my chest feels like it’s going to crack wide open, but there’s no turning back. Not when her nipples are aroused and she’s opening her thighs for me, letting me raid her mouth with my tongue. I’m so horny, I could probably grind on her panties a few times and come, but that’s not good enough. Nothing is good enough for my girl, so I end the kiss and go down on my knees, loving the way she moans when she realizes my intention, her fingers pulling at my shirt to get it off.

As soon as my head is through the neck hole and I’m shirtless, I hook a finger in the crotch of her thong and yank it left, kissing the split of her pussy. Kissing it with just my lips, then familiarizing it with my tongue, parting her pliant lips and searching for that nub. There. So sweet. So swollen, even before I start teasing it. Letting the flat of my tongue ripple against her, then stroking, nice and easy, rougher when she sobs my name. Her hips are beginning to struggle on the vanity, her thighs alternately opening wide and hugging my face.

Tags: Tessa Bailey Mystery
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