Wallbanger(117)

I sighed, relaxing. “This is nice,” I murmured.

“Yeah.”

The water beat down around us. I was in the arms of my Simon, and it couldn’t get any better.

He pul ed back a little, a question on his face. “Caroline?”

“Hmm?”

“Is any of that bread I threw on the floor…wel …”

“Yes?”

“Is any of it zucchini?”

“Yes, Simon, there’s zucchini bread.”

Silence once again, but for the water.

“Caroline?”

“Hmm?”

“I didn’t think I could love you more, but I real y kind of do.”

“I’m glad, Simon. Now gimme some sugar.”





Chapter Twenty-Two


4:37 p.m., that same day

“IS THAT THE SOAP? Don’t slip on the soap.”

“I won’t slip on the soap.”

“I don’t want you to slip. Be careful.”

“I won’t slip on the soap. Now turn back around and be quiet.”

“Quiet? Not possible, not when you…mmm…and then when you…ooohhh…and then when you—ow, that hurt, Simon. You okay back there?”

“I slipped on the soap.”

I started to turn around to see if he was indeed okay when he suddenly pressed me up against the shower wal , holding my hands flat against

the tile. Lips tickled and water sprinkled down my skin and across my shoulders as his body flexed against mine. Thoughts of runaway soap slipped

from my mind as he slipped inside me, hard and thick and delicious. My breath left me in a gasp, amplified by the tile wal s, made sexy by the water

fal ing, and quickly fol owed by another gasp as he proceeded to thrust into me, achingly slowly and purposeful y, his hands now gripping my hips.

I threw my head backward, turning my face to find the sight of Simon, naked and wet. His brow was furrowed, mouth open as he invaded

completely and without apology. I spiraled fast, awareness and clear thought narrowing down to a pinpoint before exploding, wordless words fal ing

out of my mouth and down to the water, circling the drain.

Now that O was back, she didn’t dal y. So far, at least, she arrived promptly and without question, shattering the memory of days and weeks

and months of waiting and crying, begging and pleading. She’d rewarded me with a steady, constant parade that left me scrambled and sil y,

boneless and ready for more.

Groaning into my ear, shivering and pulsing, Simon failed to slow his rol . He knew inherently, as I knew, that his girl was good for a few more.

And so, with agonizing dexterity, he planted a wet kiss on my neck, left my body, spun me quickly, and was back inside before I could say, “Hey,

where’d you go?”

“Nowhere, Nightie Girl, not anytime soon,” he muttered, roughly grabbing my bottom and lifting me against the wal , using his weight to crush

me against the tile, holding me to him and holding me inside. His body flexed while mine flattened, our slippery skin feeling indescribable against

each other. How had I stayed away from this man as long as I had? No matter. He was here, inside me, and about to deliver another O parade

throughout. I pressed back against him just enough, opening the space between us just enough to gaze down, lust clouding my vision but not so

much that I couldn’t see him entering me, over and over again, fil ing me up like no man ever had.

Now glancing down himself to see what had me so transfixed, he was captivated as wel , and a sound rather like “Mmph” left his mouth. His

movements sped up, chasing it down, that feeling, that tipping point that felt so close to pain and so close to perfection. Those blue eyes, now fil ed

with lust and fire, flew back up to mine as we both threw ourselves off that cliff again together.

Seizing. Freezing. Locked and unloaded. We came together with a roar and a grunt and a groan that left my throat raw and my hoohah thril ed.

Thril ed hoohah…what a great name for a…Mmmm…

6:41 p.m.

Walking around my apartment in only a towel, dodging flour piles and raisin clumps, Simon was a sight to behold. When he skidded on a patch

of marmalade and bumped into the counter, I laughed so hard I had to sit down on the couch. He now stood in front of me with a slice of zucchini

bread as I laughed, an amused look on his face. I continued to laugh, and my towel slipped down, revealing more than a little of my assets. At the

sight of boobs, two things happened. His eyes popped, and something else popped. Popped out. I raised an eyebrow at this latest development.

“You realize you are turning me into some kind of machine?” he noted, nodding down at his HiThere poking through the towel. Simon took the

time to place his zucchini bread safely on the coffee table.