Page 127 of Buckin' Around

When did they close?

He’s leaning over the bath, fingers trailing through the surface of the water. He’s naked. His blue eyes are dark and stuck on my face.

“Keep going, baby.”

“I-I don’t want to,” I rasp.

His head tilts.

“I want you to fill me up.” I reach for his jawline.

He’s scrambling over the side of the tub, splashing water everywhere as our mouths clash.

I chuckle as he slips and rights himself between my legs. That chuckle disintegrates into a yawn.

“Tired, my girl?” Spence utters.

“Mhmmm.”

“Then we wash and fuck at the same time.”

“How the?—”

He’s squirting body wash into one palm, his hand then raising my leg from the water. He’s lathering my leg up, moving closer to my center as he goes. Finishing one, he does the other before soaping up my arms and chest.

Washing off the suds from my limbs and chest, he dips his head and suckles my hard nipple. The moan that slips through my lips echoes around the small bathroom.

“Christ. Those little sounds of yours are going to be the death of this man.”

“I’d rather not feck you to death, Spencer.”

I tug my bottom lip through my teeth as his hands grip my hips, raising me as he nudges my entrance with his cock.

I slide my arms over the side of the tub.

“No Riles, you brought me back to life. There’s no dead man here.” He slams in, up to the hilt.

“Oh feck!” I whimper as I adjust around his girth. He’s big. He’s damn perfect. And I think he may have very well ruined me for anyone else, the way he claims I did for him.

My legs tremble as my grip whitens on the edge of the tub.

We’re both fecked.

Ghosting his thumb over my clit, he pulls out.

“We fit so well,” he growls, thrusting in again. He picks up the motion, and I’m done for.

“God, Spence. Please,” I whine, back arching, hips rocking into his rhythm.

“Slow down,” he grunts out.

I can’t . . .

“That’s it. You’re not listening, O’Malley.” He pulls out and flips me over somewhat awkwardly in the tub.

I’m on my knees when he gathers my hair in his hands.

I hear the squirt of the shampoo, and I look over my shoulder. “Spencer,” I chastise.