“Fuck. The noises you make. You’re gonna make me come, sweetness. All the fuck over your body. You want that?”
I cry out my affirmation.
“Yea? Then you gotta give it up, baby. Give it to me. That’s it. Give me what I want. Let it go, baby. Let it ride right over you.” His words are incendiary. He whispers them in my ear, his voice low and rumbly, just for me. I can’t help myself. My orgasm rolls through my body, just the way he said it would.
I come down from my high just as he lifts and spins me. I’m sitting on the bench now. It should be cold and wet on my ass, but I feel nothing but the rush of adrenaline from my post-orgasmic haze. I brace my hands on the ledge to keep myself upright, my gaze on Ty’s beautiful body--his beautiful cock--right in front of me. He strokes himself, his eyes closing as he leans his head back, trying to stave off his own release.
“I want it, Ty,” I say.
“Yea? What is it you want, Phoebe?”
“You. God, I want you.”
“You want me to come on you?”
I want him to come in me, but we haven’t breached that barrier quite yet. “Yes, please,” I say, cupping my breasts and offering them up to him as he lets go, come spraying in beautiful spurts all over my breasts and belly.
“Fuck.” He leans against the opposite shower wall, a lazy, tired smile on his full lips. “Goddamn, you’re beautiful, Phoebe.”
I stand on shaky legs, walking under the spay, letting the water wash the remnants of his orgasm away. He stands next to me, grabs the body wash and makes quick work of cleaning us both. The water is still hot, for which I’m grateful.
We finish up and he wraps me in a towel that’s at least as big as a blanket. I dry off and then lean over the sink, squeezing the excess water from my hair, then twisting it into a quick braid to avoid the inevitable tangles that are sure to come. Grabbing the hair tie from my wrist, I make quick work of it, then lean over to look for my clothes. But they’re nowhere to be found.
“Ty? What did you do with my clothes?!”
“Come to bed and find out,” he calls from his place under the covers.
“I can’t! I have class!”
He looks at his phone. “Not for an hour. Cuddle with me.”
I crawl into bed. How can I say no to this man?
***
My morning is off to a perfect start. Hot shower sex? Check. Cuddle time? Check. A fresh cup of coffee with just the right amount of cream and caramel made by my half-naked boyfriend even though he believes in the sanctity of unadulterated coffee?
Check and check.
So when I see a text from Sam while I’m scrolling through my phone in between classes, I freeze. Good luck never lasts and I’m afraid my streak is about to end. It could be awful news. The worst news. My mom’s back in the hospital, or something even more terrible. Or it could just be the same old status quo, which isn’t exactly great news, either, but I’d take it over bad news.
Taking a deep breath, I open the message, preparing for the worst, because it’s what I do. I mean, if you’re always braced for bad news, you can’t be let down, right?
Sam:Hey, kiddo. Your fall break is soon, right?
Phoebe:Yea, it’s next week. What’s wrong?
Sam:Nothing. Seriously. Just checking to see if you’re coming home or if we should come to you, take you to dinner and all that. Your mom really misses you. And I guess I do, too. :)
Phoebe:Yea, that sounds really nice. I can come home for the night, maybe? Get some of my sweaters and hoodies. It’s cold out here by the water.
Sam:Whatever you want. Just let me know. It’s also Dylan’s birthday, as you know, and that’s always rough. So, I was maybe going to take your mom away that weekend. Get her out of the house, you know? You can totally come with, if vacationing with old people is your thing.
Phoebe:You’re 30, dude. I don’t think that qualifies as old. But a weekend away with you and my mom sounds awkward AF, no offense. Why don’t I come home for dinner on Thursday? That way we can hang for a bit and then you guys can go bird-watching or whatever it is “old people” do. Besides, I have weekend plans, too. :)
Sam:Sounds perfect.
Sam:Wait, what? What are these plans? Whose ass do I have to kick?
