He reaches down between us, his fingers finds my swollen c**t once again. He works the swollen pearl in sync with the heavy roll of his hips, applying a firm, circling friction that drives the pleasure to a fever pitch.
The dual sensation is agonizingly sweet. Every deep surge of his hips sends a shockwave straight up my spine, pulling broken, breathless whimpers from my chest that echo off the bathroom walls.
"Look at me," he commands softly against my ear, his voice possessive and raw. "Turn your head, Zara. Let me see you."
I turn my head as far as I can toward him. His face is inches from mine, his eyes burning with an intense, fierce devotion that cuts right through the pleasure blinding me. Water drips from the strands of hair plastered to his forehead, running down his sharp che
