Chapter 28
What are you doing? What are you doing? the voice of reason demanded frantically when Fisher’s perfect lips melded with hers, when his arms held her tight and his hands spanned her hips. What happens when the loss of him is worse than never having him to begin with?
Something is better than nothing, she argued back. I might die tomorrow. If I do, I’d much rather go knowing what it is to truly be with him, to give him all of me, than to go being scared of the heartbreak the future holds.
And when it all ends? Which he’s assured you it will? What then? Don’t you know how complicated it will be having to continue to live and work with him?
That’s the domain of Future Eliza. All I care about is Current Eliza and finally knowing what it was to be loved by him.
She waited for the little voice to throw up another roadblock. But it was Fisher’s low baritone she heard.
“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.” He pulled back from the kiss so his gaze could drift down her body. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
She wanted to cover her breasts. Her boobs weren’t large or perfectly round. And she’d always thought her nipples were too puffy. Like, the areola part wasn’t flat. It was sort of raised.
That’s not normal, is it?
“I’m glad you think so.” She hoped she sounded coquettish instead of self-conscious as she tried to drag him back. Her lips missed his already. And if he was kissing her, he couldn’t keep looking at her.
“I do think so.” His tone was reverent as he resisted her tugging and kept his distance. “You have the most perfect skin.” To prove his point, he slid a finger over her collarbone. Despite the heat of the shower, goose bumps rose to his touch. “The sweetest little waist.” He used both hands to grip her there, his thumbs touching over her belly button. “The most feminine curve to your hips.” He ran his hands over her hips and then around, until he could once again grip her ass, his long, callused fingers fitting firmly around the bottom curves.
“You forget I’ve seen some of the woman you’ve been with, Fish,” she whispered, her lack of body confidence warring with the lovely sensation of having his big, hard hands roaming over her flesh. “I know what I am and what I’m not.”
He stood to his full height to frown down at her. With the shower hitting him on the back and steam rising above his head, he looked like a god. Some ethereal supernatural sprung from the water and the waves, more beautiful than Aquaman and more impressive than Poseidon.
“Why do ya insist on makin’ it hard for me to compliment ya?”
Since today she was in the business of admitting truths, she told him, “Because if I made it easy for you, you might stop.”
He brushed her loose hair back over her shoulder. The steam from the shower had dampened the strands and one stuck to the side of her breast, forcing him to run a finger under the wet ribbon of hair.
Her nipple pinched painfully at the proximity of his touch. And she nearly moaned in disappointment when he didn’t cup her breast. Instead he gently brushed that recalcitrant lock of hair behind her ear.
“I’ll never stop complimentin’ ya, darlin’.” His voice was low and deep and seemed to come up from the broad expanse of his chest. “Because no matter what crazy notions ya got in your head”—he tapped her uninjured temple—“I know the truth. The truth that your form matches your heart. And both are so beautiful I can’t imagine how I got so lucky as to have ya here with me.”
“Kiss me again, Fish,” she begged, hating the distance between them.
Hating that she could see all that lovely, crinkly hair smattered across his chest but not feel it abrading her nipples. Hating that, from the corner of her eyes, she could see the long, solid length of his erection standing tall and proud between them but couldn’t feel it cushioned against the curve of her belly.
“Stop talking and kiss me breathless,” she added desperately.
“Oh, I plan to do that and more.” Confidence was in his tone, teasing was in his eyes. “But first let me look at ya. I’ve been dreamin’ of this day for years. Don’t rush me now.”
She twisted her hands together, feeling unsure. But he grabbed them in one of his hands and whispered, “Trust me.”
All the tension drained out of her. So did all the uncertainty.
She did trust him.
Trusted him more than she’d ever trusted anyone because he’d only ever been good and true.
When he saw her acceptance, he stepped back farther so the water rained down over his shoulders and ran in thick rivulets through the hair on his chest, over the rippling muscles of his stomach, and seemed to make love to the thick rod of flesh that sprung unrepentantly from between his legs.
For mercy’s sake!
She’d peeked before. But it had been quick and only from her periphery.
Fisher was…wow.
There weren’t words. Or maybe there were, because while she’d always thought his body was perfectly proportioned—Ryan Reynolds only wished he could be so physically superlative—and while she’d always thought his face was exquisite, neither his body nor his god-like jawline could compare to the sheer flawlessness of his erection.
He was long and straight and thick. His skin there was two shades darker than the flesh on his body. And his mushroom cap head was plump and promised untold pleasure. Thick veins snarled up and around, pulsing with every beat of his heart. And when he caught her staring and…drooling? Was she drooling? His entire cock wagged as if to welcome her perusal.
To her utter delight, he grabbed his wide base and squeezed. Seeing him touch himself after years of fantasizing about him touching himself made her throat go as dry as the desert wind despite the thick humidity in the shower.
“This is what happens when I look at ya, Liza.” His voice was gruff. “When I see those pale, perfect breasts topped by those cotton candy nipples. When I see the inky softness of your pubic hair coverin’ your sweet pussy. When I see how long and luscious your legs are and how”—he pressed a hand on her hip, turning her slightly—“full and firm your ass is, I’m so hard I feel like I might split my own skin.”
She took a page from Hannah Blue’s alien books and didn’t give in to self-consciousness. Instead, she reached forward and took him in hand.
“That would be a shame,” she whispered, shocked at the heat of him, the steely hardness of him, the…thickness of him. Her fingers struggled to wrap around the entirety of his girth.
He hissed and threw his head back. His Adam’s apple invited the nip of her teeth, and she didn’t deny herself the pleasure.
That was all it took to break the hold he had over himself. She suddenly found her back pressed against the back wall. The tiles were warm from the steam. But nothing was as hot as Fisher pressing his entire length against her front.
His chest was solid. His mouth was ravenous. But the best part?
Oh, the best part was the way his hands roamed over her skin, igniting flames of desire wherever he touched. And she couldn’t deny his practiced skill, how he was both gentle and commanding.
He gripped her hip, holding her firmly against him. Then his rough calluses skated up her side, coming to a stop just beneath her breast. His tongue had been eagerly exploring her mouth, but when his thumb bumped the underside of her boob, he pulled back.
She blinked bleary eyes but closed them again on a groan when he cupped her breast and plumped it high. “Yes,” she encouraged.
“My favorite word,” he rumbled as his thumb passed over her nipple once, twice, three times. It was as if a string was attached from her breast to her womb, and his soft caresses awakened a hunger deep inside her core.
“Take me to bed, Fish,” she whispered as his thumb continued to circle the painful point.
“In due time,” he promised, and she opened her eyes to find his gaze glued to what his hand was doing. His nostrils flared and his cock pulsed against her lower belly like the sight of her body’s reaction to his touch was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. “For now, I want ya to relax and let me learn ya, darlin’. Let me learn all the things that make ya moan and pant. All the things that make ya cum and scream my name while doin’ it.”
Dear. God.
She moaned as his words fanned the flames of her desire.
“Just like that,” he whispered as he leaned forward to reclaim her lips. “Now I know ya like it when I talk dirty.”
And he did. For long moments as his hands worked wonders on her skin and his lips and tongue made magic in her mouth, he told her how sexy she was, how much she turned him on, teased her with all the things he planned to do to her.
With each touch, each kiss, he erased the future, leaving her lost in the now, lost in him.
When his fingers brushed through the silky hair at the top of her sex, her eyes flew open, but they were blind with pleasure. She knew he watched her for her reactions, but his face was blurry, seeming to look down on her as if from a dream.
“How do ya want to be touched?” he breathed against her neck as he left a string of hot kisses down her throat. “Ya want it soft or hard? Fast or slow?”
She couldn’t think, much less talk or make decisions. She simply whimpered and shook her head.
He chuckled. Or maybe it was a growl. “That’s okay, darlin’. I’ll figure it out.”
Slipping a finger between her slippery folds, he found her clit swollen and oh-so achy. Circling it softly with the tip of his finger, he rubbed a groan out of her.
“Good girl,” he praised, reclaiming her lips at the same time he sank one thick finger inside her, softly slid it out, and then returned with two. In and out. In and out. Slow and steady as he gently explored her.
“Fisher,” she breathed, feeling full and tight. Each thrust of his fingers stretched her. Each retreat left her empty and needy. She placed her foot on the lip of the tub to give him better access.
His touch was intuitive as he changed angle and pressure and speed until he found what worked best. He knew how to pay homage to a woman’s body. To her body. And just as he’d said he would, he discovered the perfect pace to make her moan and pant.
The entirety of her focus, all of her consciousness, zeroed in on the place where his fingers worked. And it wasn’t long before she felt the telltale ache of quickly building orgasm.
“Yes!” she cried out, shamelessly riding his hand. Bucking her hips against his ministrations as she climbed higher, higher, higher still.
So close. So close. So?—
When he dipped his head to suck her nipple into the hot haven of his mouth, everything inside her broke apart. It was as if she shattered at the cellular level and what was left of her were shimmering incandescent pieces of pleasure.
She wasn’t sure how long she remained that way, broken apart and yet fulfilled in a way she’d never been before. It could have been seconds or minutes.
Hours?
Eventually, however, all the pieces of herself coalesced into a whole. And her mind, which had blanked with ecstasy, returned.
The first thing she noticed was him nuzzling her throat, leaving soft, suctioning kisses over her pulse points. The second thing was the slick feel of his cock notched against her hip. Pre-ejaculate had oozed from his head to leave a delicious trail of desire above her belly button. And the last thing was that his hand still cupped her. He’d removed his fingers from inside her body, but he still palmed her sex as if he couldn’t help himself. As if, now that he’d finally gotten his hands on it, he didn’t want to let go.
There was something wonderfully erotic about that.
“So fuckin’ sexy,” he whispered against her throat. “I love how hard ya cum, darlin’. Feelin’ your hot pussy clamp down on my fingers like that damn near had me shootin’ against your belly.”
“That’s sexy,” she groaned, snaking her hand between them so she could fist his hard, pulsing length.
“No.” He grabbed her wrist. “I can’t have ya touchin’ me.”
“Why not?” She arched a challenging eyebrow. “What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.”
“’Cause the first time I cum, I want to be inside ya. And I’m so close to the edge, I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to hold off if ya keep touchin’ me.”
“Put yourself inside me then,” she invited provocatively and watched all the muscles in his jaw flex at the same time his nostrils flared.
“You’re a goddamn temptress,” he growled.
“Only with you.”
He stared at her long and hard, as if he was trying to decide if he believed her. In the end, she wasn’t sure what conclusion he settled on, because he turned to switch off the shower.
“I’m takin’ ya to bed,” he told her after he’d climbed over the lip of the tub and offered her a clean, fluffy towel. “There’s still lots I want to do to ya. And most of it is better accomplished while horizontal.”
“Do tell,” she teased.
And he did. As they dried their bodies, as she helped him apply new bandages to his cut, as he continued to tease and torment her by softly brushing and squeezing and kissing her all over, he told her in no uncertain terms, and in deliberate, scorching detail, all the fantasies he’d ever had about her.
By the time they fell into bed, she was hot and achy and more than ready for another orgasm.