There was something beyond intimate about having someone else wash my hair. He ran the long strands through his palms, piled them up, rinsed them gently. The constant white noise of the shower had my muscles going slack.

Tilting me forward, he washed the soap out, keeping it from my eyes. He massaged the base of my neck, erasing tension I hadn't been aware of.

Turning me, Abell brushed the soaked hair from my forehead. His kiss created ocean swells of delight in my brain.

Opening my eyes, I saw him watching me through half-closed lids. His lips were reddish from the pressure of our kiss. “Hey,” I whispered. “How long was that delay?”

Abell started to smirk, his voice caramel and sin. “An hour. More than enough time.”

He guided me backwards; when my thighs hit the tile wall, Abell came down on me like a landslide.

Eagerly he pulled my right nipple into his mouth. The skin was slick, made more so by his tongue. I moaned, arching into him to get more attention.

Between us, he slid his hand. While he suckled my tits, his fingers probed—confident in how they located my firm clit. Thumbing it, he made precise motions, grazing the sensitive bud until I was wriggling against the tile.

“Abell,” I gasped. “That feels amazing.”

Grinning with my nipple between his teeth, he chuckled. The vibrations made my knees soften. Abell crouched, kissing my sternum, my ribs.

He wrote poetry down my body with his mouth.

Fisting his prick, Abell narrowed his icy eyes on me. “You taste as good as ever. I can't wait any longer, I'm taking this sweet pussy. My pussy.”

The way he talked to me, it had ecstasy invading my blood. Reaching down, I squeezed his shaft, guiding him to me. Abell's nostrils flared, his lust encouraged by my obvious need.

With two fingers he spread my pussy-lips. He held himself with his other hand, rubbing his cock-head along my slippery entrance.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

Wordlessly, I did. Keeping his fierce stare on me, entrancing me not to look away, he fed his length into me. Fuck, I'd never get tired of that sensation. Being stretched so much that I still expected to break in two, nothing was more thrilling.

His cock rammed into me, consistent in its pressure. Every thrust stole the oxygen from my lungs. The water and steam had made me warm, but it was his touch that scalded me.

Hooking my thigh around his hip, he pinned me on the wall. One hand clasped my ass, guiding my tempo. I surrendered to his control.

“Fuck me harder,” I whispered in a voice I didn't recognize as my own. “Fuck me until I scream.”

Panting, he pushed us to the bottom of the tub. The water cascaded over us, but his body blocked it, protecting me from the spray. “Spread your legs wider,” he growled, pressing my thighs into the porcelain.

Quickly, I obeyed him. I could smell my own arousal, the steam making everything humid and heavy.

He constrained me into the position he'd chosen. I was trapped, made to bend—to break—the way he desired. Blinded by my passion, I struggled to keep his face in focus. His cock plunged inside of me, filling me to the brim.

My body was a live wire. I shuddered and twisted, hungry to keep his hot cock deep inside. Pleasure bloomed down my limbs, and I knew, when it hit my lower belly, I'd cum.

“Scream,” he said, pumping faster—rougher. His hard pelvis ground against my clit, never relenting. He was pushing me towards orgasm whether I wanted it or not. “Scream for me, scream until you're hoarse.”

His voice was a raw whisper. I let it consume me, rolling my cunt up to meet every one of his thrusts. Our voices echoed around us, the shower a constant rumble.

The nerve endings inside of me went into overdrive; I whimpered helplessly, then took enough breaths to flood my lungs. I needed that air.

I needed to scream.

“Yes!” I squealed, my pussy convulsing over his hard length. “Fuck, yes! Yes!”

After that, everything I said was broken, unrecognizable.

Abell grunted, his forehead pressing on mine as he held me tight. I was still shaking, squeezing at his cock, when he started to cum. I didn't think he would pull out, but in my desperation, I locked my legs around him and rode out the waves of his orgasm.

With every swing of his hips, the indents on his lower back flexed. I traced them, clung to him as his thick cum filled me until it over flowed.

I felt it trickle down the inside of my thighs, mixing with the shower water.

I wanted every bit of him, wanted him to be dry to the bone and emptied.

His essence belonged to me. Only to me.

Curling my nails in his wet hair, I kissed his cheek. “I love you,” I whispered.

Lifting his head enough to see me, his eyes were ruthlessly honest. “I love you, too. More than you could ever know.”

Smiling, I said softly, “I think I have some idea.”

Tiny tremors still worked through my pussy. Especially when his shaft, still stiff somehow after his release, inched backwards. I groaned, listening to the noise when his cock escaped from my body.

We'd wasted our shower. Luckily, we hadn't abandoned it yet. Abell stood carefully, then he reached down to help me to my feet. Together we washed up a second time, removing the evidence of our little escapade.

Scrambling from the shower, I wrapped myself in a towel, scrubbing one over my head vigorously. The air was cool, tiny prickles rising on my drying skin.

Abell had hung his towel around his hips. I paused, eating up the visual. He didn't hide his smirk, clearly enjoying how I was enjoying him.

“You really like my ink, huh?” he asked, sliding into clean clothes from our dresser.

“Of course I do. They're very... artsy, I guess.”

Smiling tenderly, he nodded. “I got most of them after my mother passed. She always loved tattoos, too. Said it was exactly that, art for the body.”

My hair was still damp, I tied it back in a wet bun. “I'm sure she would have loved all of them.”

Abell stopped what he was doing, eyeing me like I'd said something he hadn't expected.

Blushing at his scrutiny, I headed to my closet. Sliding into a fresh sundress, I pushed my feet into my black flats. Abell had already finished changing; a shame, I would have loved to ogle him more.

“We'd better hurry,” I said. “We're pushing this whole 'arrive at least an hour before your flight' thing.” Grabbing the suitcase on the bed, I pulled it by the handle. One of the latches hadn't been closed; pants and underwear fluttered out, landing softly on the floor.

Among the cloth, a heavier item clunked.

“Wait!” Abell gasped, reaching for me.

Kneeling, I picked up the smooth, thick book. “What's this?” Turning it in my hands, I peeled the cover back. Inside, a photo of my smiling face and creamy white wedding dress stared back.

This is...

Flipping the pages, I looked over another picture; this one had Abell feeding me cake. He'd used his hands, sliding his fingers in—and out—and in again, so I was bright red in the photo from embarrassment.

Next to me, I felt the slight weight of Abell sitting on the rug.

“It's our wedding,” I said in awe. We'd held it while I was still pregnant, so I'd been giant and round.

I remembered how I'd felt awfully close to being a blimp, but Abell had told me I was the most beautiful woman in the world.

Flipping faster, I came across a new scene. Green walls, bright lights; a hospital.

This was a glossy print of Abell. In his arms, he was cradling a sleeping, red faced Riley. He was wearing scrubs, and the look in his eyes—even through the paper—was pure adoration for his newly born daughter.

“I wanted to surprise you on our trip.” His hand touched mine. “I know that neither of us had the typical loving family.” Reaching across, he gently caressed our daughter's face in the picture. “It's the first family photo album I've ever been a part of. I want her to remember everything we do together.”