Chapter 28 #2
I squirm, but his grip on my hip is iron, locking me open as his thumb circles my clit. My chest heaves, nipples brushing his slick, hot skin.
Then he drives deeper. One finger. Then two. The stretch burns, filthy and raw.
My head tips back, thunking against the glass with a strangled moan, the sound of it bouncing back at me.
“Fuck—” I pant, nails dragging down his chest, needing something to hold onto.
It’s too much. Too fast. Maybe it’s the leftover cocktails still swirling in my system, maybe it’s the steam choking the air but my body clamps down, and I’m shattering before I can even warn him.
“Oh my god!”
He swallows my cries with his mouth, kissing me roughly, tongues tangling while the water beats down.
I slide my hand down, wrapping it around his cock. The size makes my whole body jolt. I rise on my toes, trying to drag the head against my slit, but I can’t quite angle us right.
His mouth curves against mine. “Are you trying to put it in?”
“Maybe.” I laugh breathlessly. “I’m on the pill. Are you clean?”
“Yes. But sweetheart, you’ll never manage to get it in like that.”
Before I can argue, his hands clamp on my ass. One effortless haul and I’m airborne, arms flying around his neck, legs clinging to his hips as a squeak bursts from my throat.
The shift grinds his cock right against me, blunt head dragging across my slit, catching on swollen flesh, grazing my clit before slipping lower, nudging at the slick heat already begging for him.
Holy shit. We’re really doing this. In the shower. With me suspended in his arms, water hammering down on us like we’re trying to recreate The Notebook: XXX Edition.
He groans, forehead dropping against mine. “Fuck, Georgie…”
He thrusts forward. The stretch burns as his tip pushes inside. My breath breaks in a sharp gasp.
“Now that’s a skill I never knew a man could need,” I gasp, half laughing, half moaning, because he’s literally holding me up on his cock.
His arms shift, hefting me higher, and the movement drags him deeper. His jaw locks, face a picture of strained control. “I didn’t mean for it to be like this but… fuck… I can’t stop now.”
A cry rips out of me as he drives further into me. “Oww.”
He stills instantly.
For a second, shame washes over me. Like I’m too awkward and too out of practice to be worth the effort. But then his hands steady me, and I realize he’s not annoyed or impatient. He’s just giving me space to breathe. Waiting for me to be ready.
His thighs lock, his whole body trembling with restraint. His grip spreads wider under my ass, holding me solid against the wall. “You want me to stop?”
“N-no. God, no. I’m okay,” I pant, clinging tighter around his neck. “It’s just… it’s been a few years. Don’t stop.”
His chest heaves against mine. “A few years?” He exhales sharply. “Damn, Georgie. You’re gonna feel every inch of me.”
He eases back, then thrusts in again, deeper.
“So… fucking tight. I can’t—” His breath snarls out, jaw tight. “Can’t even think.”
“P-Patrick—”
“Yeah… that’s it. Give me—those sounds. Don’t hold ‘em in. Don’t be shy with me.” A guttural groan shudders out of him. “This tight little cunt—gripping me—like it never wants to let go.”
“You’re so crude,” I gasp, half-aghast, half-coming apart. This is the kind of sex that changes you, that you spend the rest of your life trying to relive. I know I’ll compare every man after him to this moment. I know I’m probably making a terrible mistake.
But right now, I simply don’t care.
“It’s the truth. You feel—fucking—” a growl scrapes his throat, “incredible. So wet… I can feel… every pulse—around me.”
Another helpless sound bursts out of me, my nails clawing red lines into his shoulders, water slicking us together until we’re nothing but skin and steam. I can feel my pulse everywhere at once, like the water is carrying it.
“That’s it,” he growls, hips pounding deeper, water smacking against his back. “So fucking good. Give me everything.”
And I do. My body unravels in one violent wave, orgasm tearing through me. I clamp down on him, my body milking every inch.
He doesn’t stop. Keeps driving, breath hot and ragged against my neck, every thrust deeper, harder, until his control snaps. A guttural sound rips from his chest, echoing rough off the tiles as he shudders, spilling inside me.
For a moment, there’s nothing but pounding hearts and the rush of water over two naked bodies locked together.
The water keeps falling, but the world feels still. His breath finds mine, our foreheads pressed together.
Oh my god. I am Georgie; the woman who gets naked in an ice bath then has intense shower sex.
No, it’s bigger than that. So much bigger.
I am Georgie, and I just broke into the heavens and conquered a god.
Patrick
Her head rests against my shoulder, her hair sticking to my chest in damp curls. She’s half sprawled over me, skin warm and bare against mine, her thigh hooked over my hip. The sheets are a tangled mess around our legs, twisted evidence of how fast we stumbled out of the shower and into bed.
Outside the window, Portree sits quiet. Fishing boats rocking in the harbor like nothing’s changed. But everything has.
I never meant to take her against the shower wall. That wasn’t the plan. There wasn’t a plan. I just saw her, water running down her skin, and suddenly I had her pinned against the tiles with no thought beyond more.
“You all right?” My hand moves over her back, checking. Making sure I haven’t hurt her. “Was I too rough, holding you up like that?”
She tips her chin up, eyes bright, a shy smile tugging at her mouth. “I might have bruises tomorrow.”
My whole body goes rigid.
She giggles, nose scrunching. “I’ll wear them like badges of honor. Battle scars from shower wrestling with a Yorkshire giant.”
“You’re so bloody small,” I mutter. “I forget my own strength.”
Half of me hates that I might’ve marked her. The other half, the primitive bastard part, gets a dark satisfaction knowing she’ll feel me on her skin for days.
“I can handle it.” Her voice goes softer, and she bites her lip.
“I’m supposed to act cool now, aren’t I?
Casual and sophisticated. Like I do this all the time.
” She takes a shaky breath, and her whole face changes, becoming vulnerable and completely open.
“But Patrick... that was the best sex of my life.”
The confession hits me square in the chest. Christ, she just says things. Sweet and devastating. Her honesty cuts deeper than any practiced line.
“Oh God.” Pink floods her cheeks. “Too much. I’m terrible at the after-sex conversation part.”
Most women I’ve been with would never admit that. They’d play it cool and try to keep me guessing. But Georgie just opens her mouth and the truth falls out, gift-wrapped in that nervous laugh of hers.
I press my lips to her forehead, breathing her in: the smell of her shampoo in her hair, her soap on her skin, and underneath it all, just her. “Don’t ever apologize for being honest with me.”
We lie there in silence, breathing the same air. Her heart beats against my ribs, still racing. Mine’s no better. My body’s still humming from what we just did.
I can feel her thinking. Her fingers pick up speed on my chest, tracing anxious patterns. Her breathing hitches, steadies, hitches again.
“Patrick?” she says in a small voice. “What’s happening between us? I mean… what is this?”
The question I’ve been avoiding since the boat trip.
“I don’t know.”
Bullshit.
I know exactly what this is.
I’m falling for Jake’s sister. This sweet, earnest, terrible-at-games woman who says exactly what she’s thinking and feels everything so deeply it shows on her skin.
And there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop it.