Hot Summer Lust by Juliette Jones

name . I can feel the rippling compressions of her body, the soft, fluttering rhythm. When the waves calm, I turn her to me.
    The look in her eyes kills me. It’s not manic adulation, like I’m used to. It’s a quiet, vast tenderness, a beauty that’s the most addictive, dazzling glimmer I’ve ever known.
    “You’re so bad ,” she smiles. She’s pulling my soaked shirt off.
    “And you’re so good .”
    “Will you let me wash you, Elias?”
    I let her pull my shirt over my head. “I’ll let you do anything you want to me, darlin’.”
    “Stand up,” she says. “Take off your jeans.”
    I do it. She sort of gasps when she sees me. How hard I am. How fucking engorged and painful my life is right about now. She takes the soap and runs it across my chest, working up the suds. She washes my shoulders, my arms. I just stand there and let her.
    She’s washing my stomach.
    I’m so close to breaking point I feel like I need to warn her. “Sadie, baby. I’m probably gonna come about twelve times in the next hour or two, just seeing you like this. You have some crazy effect on me, sweetheart. I’m not usually so ready to fire away but I’m in agony over here and I’m not gonna be able to hold on to this badboy.”
    Control and stamina have never been a problem for me before. This is different. I’m about to come. As soon as she touches me, it’ll be all over.
    She’s smiling lightly. Her hand s are little slippery miracles. “I want you to come. Over and over. I love touchin g you. I want to make you feel good.”
    “You are, sweetheart. You are.”
    Her hands are on my thighs now. She’s playing me. Avoiding the bullseye, making it last.
    Oh, God, have mercy on me.
    She cups me in her slippery grip . She’s exploring me, as though she’s spellbound.
    Then , her hands ease over my cock. She slides her soapy fists up and down the length of me. It’s a fucking agony-ecstasy so extreme all I can do is watch her . The ecstasy is gathering, deep and low. I feel alight with it. Like I’m not just about to come but also about to combust.
    “Is this all right?” she asks shyly.
    I can only groan an answer, and she increases her pace and the force of her grip until I can’t handle it. A wrecking ball of pleasure erupts within me and I’m spurting hot cum all over her hands and her stomach in thick jolts. It just goes on and on. I have to close my eyes tight and grit my teeth just to deal with it. I have never come so hard in my life.
    She’s still rubbing me gently and I almost tell her to stop. It’s too intense. But I don’t. Her hands are infinitely careful, unbelievably soft. I can just cope with these delicate caresses, which prolong the orgasm even longer. I’m spent but my coc k is still pulsing, still trickling and spasming with the last of my release.
    It takes me a few seconds to recover.
    Her hands are still on me, smoothing the water across my body to wash off the soap and the cum.
    I take her hand and turn off the shower. I grab a towel and dry her hair. I have this strange desire to do it carefully, gently. I dry her neck, her breasts. I use my thumbs and my fingers to play her soft nipples until they begin to bead . Fuck me, she’s gorgeous. I dry her stomach, her legs. Very gently, her soft-swollen pussy. By this time I’m already on the rise again and now she’s drying me.
    “There’s something I want to tell you, Elias.”
    She sounds serious and I sort of stare at her, wary. What the fuck? She has a boyfriend . She’s married with a couple of kids. She’s a Russian spy . Her tits are fake. She’s emigrating to Australia tomorrow and never coming back. Since none of those scenarios seem at all likely except maybe the first one, which I could deal with by beating him to a pulp and meanwhile showering her with every affection and expensive gift known to mankind. Or maybe not beating him to a pulp; I don’t want to piss her off, or end up in jail. I’ll think of something, though.