Rhys turns me so that my back is against his chest and holds me against his hard body as he reaches for one of the hand sprayers. He runs the warm water all over me, up and down my arms and legs, across my belly and my breasts. All while he moves his free hand along my curves, heating me back up from the inside out.
I gasp when the jet spray flashes across my engorged clit and I arch my body into his hand while he gently pinches my nipple.
“Rhys,” I pant when he splashes my clit again.
“You like that don’t you?” he asks as he expertly guides the water again and plumps my breast with his other hand.
“Yes.”
“Aye,” he says as he waves the sprayer wand back and forth, just barely missing where I want it “Do you want me to make you come like this?”
“Yes,” I hiss as he continues teasing me. And thensuddenly, the sprayer wand is right between my legs, and he directs it to hit me exactly where I need it most.
“Oh God,” I gasp.
He plucks at my tight nipple one last time. All of the sensations are too much for my sensitive flesh and I grab onto his arms that’s banded around me and come.
He holds me tight to him, his heavy cock straining against my backside, as the last of my tremors move through me. Then he gently removes my hands from his arms and bends me over the stone bench that’s built in at the end of the shower. I’m supported on my arms, from palms to elbows, with my ass tipped up in the air and my breasts hanging heavy from my chest.
Rhys grabs me by the hips and plunges deep inside of me. He sets a punishing rhythm, fucking me harder than ever. His hands grip me so tightly, I know I’ll have bruises but I can’t seem to find it in me to care because which each thrust, he’s driving my original orgasm higher and higher. I’m about to break.
“Aye, but I love this pussy,” he says between each thrust. “I could die fucking this cunt. Or eating it.”
“Rhys,” I squeal but the sound is cut off when he presses his fingertip against my back entrance. With gentle pressure, he enters me where no one has ever touched me before—where he’s never touched me before because Rhys, my husband, is my first and only. I clench tightly around him and it makes me feel full, too full, and I begin to panic. Rhys stops moving and reaches between my legs with his free hand to playwith my clit. When my body starts to relax, I feel him begin to slide his finger in and out of my body while his cock is firmly planted in me. “Rhys.”
“Touch yourself,” he tells me as he lifts one of my hands to feel where we’re connected the deepest. “Get yourself off on my cock.”
He has me close again and I don’t want to lose the faint flutter of an orgasm, so I lean on one arm and reach between my legs, feeling him inside me. My fingertips graze him as I circle my clit and he begins to glide in and out of me, slow to start, not wanting to overwhelm me, but he stays inside me.
“That’s it,” he says. “Show me how you get off on us.”
“Rhys,” I moan as he moves faster, plunging deeper, like he did before.
“Feel how good it is when I fuck you,” he says. “How good it’ll be when I sink into your tight ass.”
“Oh God—” I cry out because I’m so close and if it feels good like this when he fucks my ass, then it’s not a hard no.
“That’s it,” he growls as he fucks me hard. “Get there. I need you to get there.”
It’s no struggle. If anything, I’ve been holding back, but knowing how close he is throws me right over the edge and I scream as I come. He drives deep one more time and follows me. When he catches his breath, he pulls out and wraps his hands around my waist, pulling me to standing. But I was happy to die there, holdingon to the bench. He’s wrung every last bit out of me. I have nothing left to give.
I nuzzle into his neck when he turns me around and holds me under the spray like a sleepy kitten. I could happily crawl into bed. Stick a fork in me, I’m done.
“So, you’re sweet as a lamb after being fucked hard, are you?” He laughs.
“Shut up,” I mutter.
He chuckles and pours shampoo into his hands, lathering my head before rinsing me gently under the spray. He leans me against the shower wall while he shampoos his own hair and then lathers me up with soap before rinsing me again.
When we’re all clean, he turns off the water and grabs a towel, drying me off before doing the same for himself, which is great because I’m not sure I have use of my arms at this juncture. He sits me down at my vanity and begins to brush out my hair. The action is so tender and intimate, I’m not sure how to unpack it. When he pulls out my hair dryer and begins giving me the best blowout ever, I’m stunned speechless.
“You’re really good at that,” I say quietly.
“I had a little sister and parents who were too busy to care for her,” he replies.
“That’s sad.”
“It is, but she always had me,” he adds. “And now you.”