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76

I was thankful that a few weeks ago we’d decided to no longer use condoms, that there was nothing separating us from experiencing this.

This overwhelming feeling.

But one that was so extremely satisfying.

“You’re so fucking tight.”

I didn’t know which part of me he was talking about. It didn’t matter. He sounded as pleasured and as turned on as I was, and when he gripped my cheek and kissed me, his eyes feral when we parted, I knew his body was as lit as mine.

But what was happening beneath the water wasn’t as active as what was going on above it.

In fact, neither of us budged.

I just stayed still, taking it all in, getting acclimated to these senses before I rocked forward and back. When I did, when I drew my hips up and down, his finger went in the same pattern.

“Easton . . .” I didn’t have words. I searched, but they were gone. Too much was in motion. Too much was at play. I just had breaths and moans and squeezes—his shoulders, neck, anything within range of grasping.

“You feel fu
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