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I look down the length of my body. He smirks before swiping his tongue over my clit again and plunging one of his thick fingers inside me.
It’s all too much. The man is perfection.
He pushes another finger inside me while his mouth manipulates my clit. The delicious stretch has me pulling him closer to gain the friction my body demands.
Rowan groans, working me over, playing with my entrance, switching up the rhythm, and it drives me right to the edge.
He withdraws his fingers, and I whimper, but he turns us, guiding me off the wall and over to the counter. “Get up.”
I slide onto the bathroom counter while he remains on his knees. Swinging my legs over his shoulders, he pulls me forward so half my ass is hanging off the counter. Then he devours me. There’s no other word for it. He’s uncontrolled and wild, bringing me somewhere I’ve never been with a man between my legs. I need more. More of his tongue. More of his fingers. More friction. Morehim. My moans and whimpers mix in with the steam from the shower, the bathroom now more like a sauna.
My orgasm hits me like a freight train, and my chest bolts forward, my legs tightening around his head, but Rowan holds me down on the counter, slowing his movements as I ride out the waves of my orgasm on his languid tongue.
He rises from between my legs, and his lips meet mine. I taste myself on his tongue, feeling his dick press against my opening. Rowan reaches over my shoulder, opens a cabinet, and blindly reaches until a box falls out.
He pulls away from me with a groan. “I have to have you.” He rips open a condom, running the latex down his rigid length.
“How do you want me?”
Rowan slides my hips off the counter so I’m standing again, but his hand goes to my cheek. The kiss he gives me is so intense that I’m eager and ready again by the time it’s over.
He pats my hip and directs me to bend over the sink, making heat unfurl in my belly. He undoes the clasp of my bra, then his hand runs down my back to my ass and back up, sliding around to the front of my neck and lifting my face to stare at him through the mirror.
Fuck. If I could take a picture right now of the two of us, I’d sleep with it under my pillow every night. Pull it out whenever I needed some happy time with my vibrator.
Me naked and bent over for his viewing pleasure with him standing behind me, hand on my neck, his muscles flexed and tense. The look in his eyes is one of pure male satisfaction and dominance. As if he’s a king lording over all his subjects. All of that mixed with his sweaty hair and the steam filling the room is a wet dream come to life.
No wonder he’s Mr. Heartbreaker. He’s breaking hearts because he’s too good at this sex thing, and those women are probably mourning the loss. I’ll probably cry when this is over too.
He inches forward, removing his hand from my neck and using both hands to spread my ass cheeks. I have the brief thought that maybe I should be self-conscious, but he licks his lips, then bites down on his lower one, and I’ve never felt more desired.
He slides his thick length inside me. “Fuck.” It comes out in a way that sounds as if he almost can’t believe how good it feels.
When he withdraws and slams back inside me, his fingertips delve into my flesh as he controls the rhythm, fucking me hard and fast. There’s nothing else to call this but fucking—not making love or fooling around or sex even. He’s taking his pleasure from me with no apologies and delivering my own.
My nipples rub along the counter with every push and pull, the friction turning them into hard points. He doesn’t relent, slamming into me like a man possessed. I happily go with him, rubbing the condensation off the mirror when it becomes too much to see him anymore. I want to watch him devour me. Commit it to memory.
Our heavy breathing and grunting fill the room as our climaxes rise to an uncontrollable limit. My core tightens around him, and he groans.
Just when I can’t take any more, he does something with his hips that takes him deeper, and I explode, my pussy clenching around his cock. His fingers press into my flesh so hard I wouldn’t be surprised if there are marks left behind, which I’d welcome.
Rowan comes inside me, grabbing at the back of my hair. When he’s spent, his sweaty chest falls to my back as my arms give out, and I flatten against the counter. He kisses my spine three times before sliding out of me. I miss him immediately.
I stand up and catch my breath while he takes off the condom and tosses it in the trash can.
He guides me into the shower, and as we each wash each other, what happened earlier this morning comes to mind for the first time since we met up today. I’m thankful he never asked me about my red-rimmed eyes.
But of course he didn’t. We’re not dating. We’re fucking, that’s all.
Fourteen
Rowan
I’mat our workout facility, lifting weights as I do every morning, but in reality, I’m killing time before Leigh texts me. For the past two weeks, we’ve developed a routine. An unhealthy one where we see each other every day. One where most of our time together is in bed, or against a wall, or with her on a counter or bent over a piece of furniture.
This obsession I have with her can’t be healthy, but I can’t seem to find it in myself to care.
I’m grabbing a set of dumbbells when I spot Easton Bailey, the shortstop for the Chicago Colts, walk in. He’s one of Jagger’s clients too.
