Fill Me

Fill Me by Crystal Kaswell Read Free Book Online

Book: Fill Me by Crystal Kaswell Read Free Book Online
Authors: Crystal Kaswell
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Coming of Age, Contemporary, new adult
up and down, over every inch of me.
    I squirm, my hands digging into the hard tile wall. He does it again and again. It's a sweet, warm pressure like nothing I've ever felt before. It's everywhere, warming up every part of me.
    I close my eyes and inhale the sensation. Luke brings his mouth to my ear, sucking hard on the lobe.
    "Luke," I groan.
    The water streams over me, so warm and soft. The pressure inside me grows, tighter and tighter.
    I lean into him. His breath is heavy, strained. He moves the showerhead over me again and again and again. It's almost too good, too intense, too much to take.
    "Fuck," I say. "Don't stop."
    He does it again and again, moving faster. The water streams over me, hitting every nerve in my cunt. My body buzzes with pleasure and I get closer and closer and closer. One more time and the pressure is so much, so intense, so fucking good.
    "Luke," I groan as an orgasm rushes over me. I press my hands into the wall, pushing my body against his. His cock presses against me. He's still hard.
    "Fuck me," I say. "Fuck me now."
    He brings his mouth to my ear, sucking hard on my earlobe. Then he slides inside me.
    Jesus Christ.
    He grabs my hips, thrusting into me slowly. "Mhmmm," he groans. "You feel so fucking good." He scrapes his teeth against my neck, his nails digging into my thighs.
    "Fuck me," I say.
    He thrusts into me again, deeper this time. I sigh in relief. It's so much sensation--the water from the showerhead against my clit, his cock filling me, his hands on my body.
    I groan, arching to meet him as he moves harder and faster. I lose track of anything I thought five minutes ago. I'm only here, with him, our bodies joining. I arch my back, pushing against the wall to give him better leverage. He pushes deeper inside me, so deep it almost hurts. My sex clenches. Pleasure floods my body, radiating to my chest, my ass, my fingers and toes. Every part of me feels so fucking good, and every part is begging for his touch.
    I lean back into Luke, my back rubbing against his hard chest. He's wet, slippery, and his body feels so good against mine. He nuzzles my neck, then tilts my head back, kissing me hard.
    "Come for me," he says. "I want to hear it."
    Breath leaves my body. I turn back, one hand against the wall, the other on the showerhead. I move it up and down, the water rubbing my clit, pushing me closer and closer to the edge. Luke runs his hands over my body, only his slick fingertips. Then he brings them to my breasts. He plays with my nipples, rubbing them with slow circles. He thrusts into me, harder and deeper, and I get closer and closer.
    I close my eyes. Jesus. He kisses my neck again. Then it's teeth, a hard scrape. His touch gets harder, rougher. He thrusts into me again and again, and I fill with pleasure. Almost. Almost.
    An orgasm washes over me. I groan, dropping the showerhead and grabbing his thigh. He kisses my neck, thrusting into me harder and faster. His breath gets heavier, harder, deeper.
    He sinks his teeth into my neck and groans. He's almost there. I press my hands against the wall, arching into him.
    He groans one more time and he comes, his cock pulsing inside me.
    We stand like that for a moment. Then he turns me around and we kiss until we're both soaked to the bone.
    ***
    The next twenty-four hours are bliss. We kiss. We touch. We fuck. We break for dinner, for drinks, for a few hours of sleep. When we're both too exhausted to move, we lie on the bed, our bodies tangled up in each other.
    We don't talk. We don't listen to music. We don't watch TV. Instead, we listen to our breath and heartbeats.
    I have no sense of time. No sense of tomorrow or yesterday or anything except Luke and me in this apartment. I don't even know how many times we have sex, how many times I come from his cock or his hands or his mouth.
    It's perfect.
    But it's only perfect for so long.
    At six o'clock his phone rings with an alarm. We pull ourselves apart. "I'm sorry, Ally," he says and he

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