Return To You: A Small Town, Second Chance Romance

25. Ethan

twenty-five

What.

The fuck.

Is happening.

My heartbeat won’t slow. My mouth is dry. My hands tingle from the absence of Grace.

I force myself to stare at the ceiling and empty my thoughts and ground myself.

I find that I’m not ungrounded, or whatever the word is. I’m not disconnected. There aren’t a million different thoughts going through my mind.

I have only one thought.

Grace.

One feeling.

Completeness.

I have no other thoughts or feelings.

And that’s a good thing. I’m in the moment. Present. That’s all I need right now.

I look to the bathroom where she disappeared.

Seconds later I’m in the shower with her, lathering her luscious breasts. My balls are asking for a little time off, and I know she needs a break too. So my dick will have to sit this one out.

Grace looks down at me and licks her lips, then lathers my torso, slightly scraping her fingernails on my skin, hunger all over her face.

“Do you ever get tired?” I growl, echoing her earlier question.

“Not with you.”

My dick twitches while my heart pinches at this. That she had others. But that it’s better with me. Which, I get it, is probably something she or any woman would say anyway. But let’s be honest. In my case? I think it’s true. I think I’m the best she’s ever had. Why? Not because I’m arrogant. Well, I am arrogant. But honestly, I saw the look on her face. She was at times surprised by my moves, always eager to follow, and her moaning? She could make porn stars blush. And one thing I know about Grace: she doesn’t fake.

“Mm. Looks like you’re not tired either,” she says, stroking my now-hard cock under the pretense of lathering it. Looking down, I have a view of my rod in her hand, and her pebbled nipples dripping water. I palm her breast, flick her nipple, and she tilts her head up to me as she moans, water droplets running down her cheeks, the pink tip of her tongue running over her lower lip.

She strokes me hard, bringing the tip of my cock against her belly. Then she gets on her knees and looks at me pleadingly, and fuck me, but her expression right now? I could come all over her face just for that. So when she says, “Can I please suck you off?” and lowers her eyes to my cock, I’m torn. While she waits for my answer, she rinses the soap suds off my cock and licks her lips again.

Despite my earlier protestation of needing a break, I was about to fuck her against the shower wall, a personal fantasy I’ve yet to fulfill. I know, weird it hasn’t happened yet, but I’m not mad I’ll get to do that with Grace first. I can just see it, her glistening skin, the slickness of our bodies colliding, me holding her wrists above her head, driving inside her effortlessly.

She looks up at me, the shower hitting her face, making her blink. “Just fuck my face, Ethan,” she orders in that small voice that always drove me wild, “Just take me, Ethan, take what’s yours,” she’d said to me ages ago when she gave me her virginity.

“Do you like it?”

“I want it. With you, I want it. I want you to take your pleasure with me.”

My dick weeps at her words. “But do you want it?”

She slides a hand between her legs and her eyelids lower as she nods timidly. This woman is utter. Perfection.

I place myself at her mouth, and good god she’s hungry. She reaches over to turn the shower off. Then she sucks me off, checking on me to see if I like it, what I like, until she places both my hands on her head and motions for me to fuck her face.

So I do.

I could do this for hours. And I want to. But I don’t want to put Grace through this for too long. So with a little regret and immense thankfulness for how she likes sex with me, I pull her off my cock. “I’m gonna come, babe.” I hope she stays on her knees, so I can come on her face, or at least her breasts, but she takes me deep inside her mouth, and I hit her throat. She grabs my ass to pull me tighter, bobbing her head, sucking with her tongue, her cheeks, driving me wild with just a little teeth, and I empty myself in her. And I groan like never before. And I hold her head against my crotch, the tremors of my orgasm shaking my whole body. And when I’m done and she pulls out, she swallows one last time and as she stands, she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and straddles my thigh.

“Fingers,” she whimpers, and my god I can’t believe it, but she’s drenched, drenched from giving me head. She comes on my hand, on my thigh, and once her shaking subsides, I kiss her, and we both slide down to the shower floor and catch our breaths.

“Do you think I have a problem?” she asks in a small voice after a little time has passed. We’re still on the shower floor.

I stroke her back. “What do you mean?”

“I-I just like sucking you off so much. It makes me wet just talking about it.” She wiggles in my arms.

Ah fuck. My dick stands at attention. Again. “Yeah, no, I don’t think that’s a problem,” I chuckle.

She nods, then after a few more beats swallows loudly.

“What is it?” I prompt her.

“Are-are all women like that?”

I look down at her. “I don’t know about all women. All I know is, you’re perfect.”

Another loud swallow.

“What?” I ask teasingly.

“Am I? Perfect doesn’t sound very sexy.”

“Ah. I see. Hmm.” How can I put it without scaring her away? “You’re my dirtiest fantasies come true. How’s that?”

“Now that’s perfect.” She seems to think about it. “Fantasies? Name one.”

“Fucking against the wall. Fucking in the shower.” That’s two. I could go on. Fucking you in my jersey.

“You never had sex in the shower?”

Ouch.“No. You?”

“No,” she says immediately. “But you seem so… experienced, I figured you’d done it all.”

I have taken the exploration of the woman’s body quite seriously, and especially the foreplay that leads to a woman craving a man. But sex in the shower? “Sex in the shower is… it’s just too intimate.”

“And yet here we are,” she says.

And I don’t know what to answer to that. What does she mean? That we’re not intimate enough for that, or that we are?