There was something about an outdoor shower that felt positively wicked to Molly. She turned her face towards the sun which peaked over the top of the wall separating it from the pool area of their rental house. She closed her eyes as its warmth contrasted with the cool rivulets of water cascading over her skin. Tomorrow, she and her new hubby, Sherlock Holmes, would fly back home from Mexico. It felt too soon. She had loved every minute of their sun-soaked escape (well, except for the six hours Sherlock had disappeared to help the local police find a missing politician).

"Enjoying yourself, are you?" A deep voice rumbled across from her.

Molly's eyes fluttered open. She smiled shyly at her husband leaning against the entryway. Husband! She mouthed the word. She loved the feel of it on her lips.

"I am," she replied softly.

Her insides washed with wave of sensation. That look on his face! The constricted eyes. The shadows that danced across brow when his hair lifted in a breeze. The way his lips bowed. It was always intense, like being at the center of an operating theater, but she loved the feel of his gaze on her body. She greedily looked over his in return. She'd managed to coax a little color into his normally pale skin by dragging him down to the beach. A hint of bronze deliciously emphasized his lean muscles above his swim trunks.

Sherlock pushed off the door frame. "May I join you?"

Molly nodded quickly. He quickly discarded his trunks and came towards her with intent. She sucked in a breath. Oh, he was already quite aroused. She curled her toes. Almost as soon as he reached her, his arm wrapped around her waist, he jerked her against his body and slanted his mouth over hers. Instantly, she was hyper aware of the difference between his scorching heat and the much colder water. Her nipples puckered into buds on her chest. Her sex pulsed between her thighs. A familiar lust began to form in the depths of her belly.

She ran her hands over his smooth skin as the water rolled down his frame, and cupped his taut, wet arse. He lifted his head a moment and dipped it back under the shower's stream. Then he ran his hand back over his damp curls and shook them out a bit.

"Mm, sorry, I was feeling rather hot," he murmured.

"Yeah, you were," she whispered and pulled his head down.

His lips, a bit wet from the water slipped over hers. She moaned against his mouth and then invited his tongue to tangle with hers. His hands glided over her flesh leaving a tingling sensation where the heat was subsequently quenched. His cock stood rigid between them. Every once in a while it would twitch, reminding her of its neediness. She reached down between then and grasped it with her hands.

"Mmph," Sherlock grumbled. "Molly, you know when you do that, I lose my mind."

"Yes," she muttered. "Yes, I do."

He reached up then, fumbled with the shower which angled it towards the wall, and slid his hands down to her thighs. He hiked her up by her legs to his waist and pinned her against the smooth tiles. Her skin squeaked and sucked against them as the water continued to pour over their bodies.

"I'm going to take you, right here," he rasped. "I hope you like the pattern of the mosaic. It's going to be imprinted on your backside."

His fingers delved into her hot, slick center to check its readiness.

"Promise?" She licked her lips as she clutched him about the neck and shoulders. "Because I'm wetter than this shower, Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock groaned and kissed her then. She felt him guide the wide head of his shaft to her entrance and then with one, primal thrust, he claimed her against the shower wall. She felt the smooth ridges of the tiles press hard into her back and bum. She hugged her legs around him and held on for dear life as he rammed his impossibly hard cock into her womb once more. His mouth muffled her throaty cries. She loved this, the way he possessed her body and soul. Nothing thrilled her more than spurring him to the edge of his control, especially when he prided himself on that above all else.

Molly gripped handfuls of his wet curls then as his shaft, wet from her and the shower drove in and out of her again and again and again. Her sex began to ache, almost hurt, from how much need she had down there. Her clit was throbbing, pulsing, begging for something to slake the decadent pain. She closed her eyes and let her head loll back to the wall as she focused on the greedy little nerve bundle sparking at her core. Then, the rough penetration of him, the way his body rubbed her clit, finally set her off. One last, slippery glide and her orgasm ripped through her like a bolt of lightening. Her insides clamped around him and urged him to follow.

"Molly, um," he grunted. "Y-You. Only you."

A few last, jerky thrusts and the lightening struck a second time. His body went rigid as he strained to keep himself upright. His member spasmed and emptied deep within her recesses. Molly clung to him with what little strength she had.

"Y-Yes, hubby. Me," she kissed him as he lowered her down. "Just me."

He nodded and exhaled heavily. "That's ll I need. For now. Always. Forever."