ever to make her zing this powerfully.
Her breasts and her vagina ached, her panties were soaked
through and her pants were starting to chafe a bit. Perhaps she could relieve
the need by herself. After several meh relationships, she was pretty good at
self-pleasure. It was the damn water. That was the only reason she’d ever
consider touching herself intimately in front of cameras. Her arousal was
zooming out of control, taking her body and mind for a wild ride. If she
couldn’t release some of the pressure she’d explode, she knew it.
Turning her back to the bathroom door, she reached under her
shirt to unhook her bra and massaged her free breasts. Much better. She threw a
quick glance at the security camera and tried to hide under its direct stare.
Though they’d probably seen worse. She swiped a tentative finger over the
cotton covering her swollen vaginal lips, but no relief. Instead the pressure
built, mocking her with the tantalizing glimpse of release that would never be
hers without Adam. She tried again, this time slipping her fingers under the
waistband into slick and slippery territory. She climbed higher and higher into
breath-stealing pleasure, but any release remained a distant tease. She needed
a man, one man in particular.
Loren’s head fell back against the door as she cursed a blue
streak with words she didn’t even know were in her vocabulary. Damn Commander
Shepard and these little games. She was an adult, a professional journalist.
How could her traitorous body respond like this to one sexy male? The only
reason that made rational sense was that she was a near-perfect match with
über-arousing Adam.
Sex with him would be amazing, mind-blowing. She knew it,
wanted it, and feared it. What would it be like to release this pressure with him
buried deep inside her, sliding in and out? Could she ever get her fill? Her
body screamed no. It wanted to be under Adam’s weight, accepting him over and
over.
Screw it. She wanted him, wanted to know what an orgasm with
a warm-blooded male was like. It didn’t mean she had to sign up for the carpool
line. Sex could simply be sex with no strings. She stood and turned the knob to
the bathroom. An icy blast greeted her from the shower stall where Adam stood
naked under a harsh spray. He fisted his swollen cock and, from the look of it,
had been at it a while.
“Don’t glare at me.” She stood, tearing off her clothes with
no shame.
“I’ve come twice,” he said with narrowed eyes, never slowing
his wrist movement. “But then I think of you on the other side of the door and
get hard all over again.” He squeezed his swollen shaft angrily, daring her to
fix it.
Her desire flared to an inferno despite the frigid
temperature of the water. She leaned under the spray and reached to turn off
the water. Water sluiced down his chiseled chest and beaded in his dark curls.
“Hand me a towel,” he said.
She shook her head and started to shimmy out of her last
remaining article of clothing, her panties.
He threw a wild look around the room and realized he was
trapped in the tiny shower stall with no way out except to brush by her. She
had him now. She crooked her finger, every inch the temptress she’d always
wanted to be, but never achieved. Until now.
Adam fell out of the shower onto his knees and pulled her by
her hips until his lips kissed the neat puff of hair shielding her clitoris.
She came as soon as his tongue rubbed the swollen mound, but her climax didn’t
provide the desired relief.
“More,” she said, and lowered until she straddled his
thighs.
“You’re on the Pill? Tell me you’re on the Pill,” Adam said,
almost like a prayer. “I’m clean, I swear.”
“I’m on birth control and disease free.”
“Thank God.” With a nudge he slid his cock into her dripping
passage with no preamble and no barrier. She was literally made for him. The expression fit like a glove was a mockery compared to the sensation of at last
being united
Her breasts and her vagina ached, her panties were soaked
through and her pants were starting to chafe a bit. Perhaps she could relieve
the need by herself. After several meh relationships, she was pretty good at
self-pleasure. It was the damn water. That was the only reason she’d ever
consider touching herself intimately in front of cameras. Her arousal was
zooming out of control, taking her body and mind for a wild ride. If she
couldn’t release some of the pressure she’d explode, she knew it.
Turning her back to the bathroom door, she reached under her
shirt to unhook her bra and massaged her free breasts. Much better. She threw a
quick glance at the security camera and tried to hide under its direct stare.
Though they’d probably seen worse. She swiped a tentative finger over the
cotton covering her swollen vaginal lips, but no relief. Instead the pressure
built, mocking her with the tantalizing glimpse of release that would never be
hers without Adam. She tried again, this time slipping her fingers under the
waistband into slick and slippery territory. She climbed higher and higher into
breath-stealing pleasure, but any release remained a distant tease. She needed
a man, one man in particular.
Loren’s head fell back against the door as she cursed a blue
streak with words she didn’t even know were in her vocabulary. Damn Commander
Shepard and these little games. She was an adult, a professional journalist.
How could her traitorous body respond like this to one sexy male? The only
reason that made rational sense was that she was a near-perfect match with
über-arousing Adam.
Sex with him would be amazing, mind-blowing. She knew it,
wanted it, and feared it. What would it be like to release this pressure with him
buried deep inside her, sliding in and out? Could she ever get her fill? Her
body screamed no. It wanted to be under Adam’s weight, accepting him over and
over.
Screw it. She wanted him, wanted to know what an orgasm with
a warm-blooded male was like. It didn’t mean she had to sign up for the carpool
line. Sex could simply be sex with no strings. She stood and turned the knob to
the bathroom. An icy blast greeted her from the shower stall where Adam stood
naked under a harsh spray. He fisted his swollen cock and, from the look of it,
had been at it a while.
“Don’t glare at me.” She stood, tearing off her clothes with
no shame.
“I’ve come twice,” he said with narrowed eyes, never slowing
his wrist movement. “But then I think of you on the other side of the door and
get hard all over again.” He squeezed his swollen shaft angrily, daring her to
fix it.
Her desire flared to an inferno despite the frigid
temperature of the water. She leaned under the spray and reached to turn off
the water. Water sluiced down his chiseled chest and beaded in his dark curls.
“Hand me a towel,” he said.
She shook her head and started to shimmy out of her last
remaining article of clothing, her panties.
He threw a wild look around the room and realized he was
trapped in the tiny shower stall with no way out except to brush by her. She
had him now. She crooked her finger, every inch the temptress she’d always
wanted to be, but never achieved. Until now.
Adam fell out of the shower onto his knees and pulled her by
her hips until his lips kissed the neat puff of hair shielding her clitoris.
She came as soon as his tongue rubbed the swollen mound, but her climax didn’t
provide the desired relief.
“More,” she said, and lowered until she straddled his
thighs.
“You’re on the Pill? Tell me you’re on the Pill,” Adam said,
almost like a prayer. “I’m clean, I swear.”
“I’m on birth control and disease free.”
“Thank God.” With a nudge he slid his cock into her dripping
passage with no preamble and no barrier. She was literally made for him. The expression fit like a glove was a mockery compared to the sensation of at last
being united
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