Those words send me into hyper drive like they always do, ever since he first said them to me the day of Juls’ wedding; a day I started off dreading and now am immensely grateful for. I’m panting, clawing down his back and I know what he needs to hear to get him where I want him. “Please, I need you. Please, Reese.” I beg him because he likes it and because it’s true. I do need him; I’ll always need him. How I ever managed to convince myself otherwise is beyond me. I was a complete fool for ever denying my feelings for him. He’s always been it for me, ever since I fell into his lap.

He tilts his head up and locks eyes with me, slowly easing forward as his breath comes out in a quick burst. “Christ, Dylan.” He begins to move, sliding in and out of me easily due to my fully-aroused state. I’m certain I’m permanently wet around him and am totally fine with that; he owns my body. “Jesus. So fucking good. Every damn time.”

“Oh, God, yes.” I grip onto his neck with one hand and his bicep with my other, squeezing tightly and feeling his muscles contract. His hips pound against my pelvis, pushing me farther and farther up the tiled wall. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to his power during sex, the way he moves in me and with me, commanding my body that willingly obeys without any hesitation. Groans and grunts echo around us as he moves fluidly inside me, hitting the end of my channel. “Reese.” His hands grip my hips harder and he becomes more forceful with his thrusts, my back slapping hard against the wall.

“You’re almost there. Let go, love,” he says against my lips.

He always knows when I’m close, and it never takes me long to get there. I’m extremely responsive to everything this man does, and he loves it. With one quick movement, he unhooks my legs and places me on the shower floor, dropping down to his knees in front of me. His mouth is on me instantly, sucking my clit as he grabs my thighs and hooks them both over his shoulders.

“Come for me, Dylan.”

“Shit. Oh, God, right there.” I come hard and fast, reaching down and gripping his hair with both hands. He’s so unbelievably good at this, and he knows it. Moving his head rapidly between my legs, he moans softly against my clit, lapping between my folds. I’m trembling against him like I always do, seeing his eyes flick up to mine as he gently places me down on my feet. My legs are wobbly, and it takes a lot of effort to remain upright. “Jesus. How do you keep getting better at that?” I rake through his hair as he gazes up at me, giving me the slightest shrug as his answer. “My turn,” I declare, seeing his eyes light up as he stretches out above me. I excitedly push him against the wall, practically bouncing on my post-orgasm feet as he watches me in amusement. “Hands or mouth?”

He arches his brows at my question, his sweet smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “Both.”

I enthusiastically rub my hands together and lean in, pressing my lips against his mouth for a quick kiss, which turns into an intense make-out session the moment he grips my neck. His tongue tangles with mine, swallowing my tiny whimpers and sending a shock wave through my body.

“See how good you taste? Like fucking candy.”

I shudder against him like I always do when he talks to me that way. The man is an expert in dirty talking, dirty texting, and dirty love-letter writing. Yes, I’ve decided all his little notes to me during our casual bullshit phase were love letters. I know, I was a fucking idiot to think they weren’t.

I reach down and grip him in my hand, his body jerking at the contact as he drops his head against mine. My hand doesn’t slide as easily as I’d like and I get an idea, a very naughty idea. Stepping back, our eyes meet as I pull my bottom lip into my mouth and slip two fingers inside me. His penetrating green eyes broaden as I moan and swipe my wetness onto his cock, repeating the action until I’ve gotten him well lubricated.

“Holy shit. That’s so fucking hot.”

“I just thought I’d share what you do to me,” I reply playfully, stepping into him and stroking his length. “You make me so wet.” I lick his stubble and hear him moan softly. “Just by being in the same room with me.” My free hand grips his arm as his breath warms the side of my face. I’m sliding up and down, fast then faster, my grip tightening as his hands wrap around my waist.  “No man has ever done that to me before.”  He groans deeply against me, and I know it’s because of what I’m doing to him and what I’ve just confessed. He loves that he’s the only man who’s ever affected me; the only man who ever will.

His bottom lip is pulled into his mouth, indicating he’s close. It’s his tell; that and when he rakes his hands through his hair, signifying he’s either anxious, nervous, or really fucking pissed. “I love how wet I make you. That pussy belongs to me.” His breathing hitches in my hair. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.”

Dropping to my knees, I wrap my lips around him and stroke him with my hand, pumping him into my mouth. He grunts loudly above me, his thighs tensing and his hands holding my head, tangling in my hair. I swallow every ounce of him, moaning against his skin and feeling him twitch. His breathing steadies above me and I glance up, seeing a very-amused grin on his gorgeous face.

“I love you,” I say softly, planting a quick kiss to his cock before I stand up. His arms wrap around me and I immediately shove my face into his neck, claiming my spot.

“Me or my dick?”

I giggle against him and feel his laugh shake my body. “Your dick.” He pulls me away from him, issuing me his don’t fucking push it, Dylan look, and I crack. “You and your dick. I’m mad for both of you. Can’t live without either one of you, actually.”

Reaching up, I grab my shampoo and turn to see his hand held out for me, waiting for me to squirt it into his palm. I do it and grab his body wash, squirting it into my hand before I put it back on the shelf. I wash his body as he washes my hair, my hands roaming freely over his skin. I linger on his shoulders and upper back, giving him a rubdown as his eyes close.  He loves this, me touching him this way, pulling and kneading his muscles until they loosen. His tiny moans of gratification make me smile as I move down his body and spread the lather around. He massages my scalp the way he always does, building up the suds with his hands until they begin to trickle down my face. I’m rinsed off quickly, and my body wash is grabbed.

“Hey, use yours,” I demand, trying to snatch it from his grasp but remembering instantly just how quick he is, and how I don’t stand a chance in taking anything from him. We’ve been down that road.

“No. I want you to smell like you.”

I grumble unconvincingly, loving how he prefers the way I smell to anything else, even though I’d be much happier smelling like him. I watch as I’m thoroughly cleaned as only Reese Carroll would do. The man is meticulous about everything, concentrating on covering every inch of my skin in the soapy bubbles. He lingers on my breasts, kneading them for several minutes before he rinses them clean. His marks are on me, permanently branded onto my skin due to his daily freshening-up sessions. I moan softly as he latches onto the left one, pulling the skin into his mouth and planting a soft kiss to it after it’s darkened.

“So, how bad was today?” he asks, licking the mark on my right breast before sucking on it.