Without breaking the kiss, Alex blindly reaches for the shower knob and twists it off. His body is hot and bare against mine. He grips the front of the shirt I’m wearing and, with one swift motion, unbuttons it and peels it off me, like he’s wanted it gone from the moment I walked in. It lands somewhere on the tile with a wet slap, forgotten.
His hands are everywhere now. Palming over my chest, down my ribs, possessive and grounding all at once. His fingers graze over my nipple—just a tease—and I gasp into his mouth, moaning when he circles it again. My cock throbs, straining in my soaked boxer briefs, and I let out a frustrated whimper against his lips.
I want more. I want all of him. I want to feel skin on skin.
I drag my hands down from his hair, fumbling clumsily at the waistband of my briefs, hips twitching as I try to shove them down. It almost breaks the kiss with the way we stumble but Alex just breathes a quiet laugh against my mouth, a smile I feel more than see, then he cups the back of my neck and crushes his lips to mine again, deeper, hotter, like he’s trying to drown whatever control he’s been holding onto.
Finally, I kick the briefs off, and the second I do, his hands are back gripping my waist. He pushes me gently against the glass wall of the shower stall, and then his hips press into mine. Cock to cock—hot, bare, perfect.
I moan, fingers tightening around his shoulders as my knees threaten to buckle beneath me.
“Fuck,” I breathe out, voice ragged, dazed. The pressure, the heat, the weight of him, it’s everything I’ve craved. Everything I’ve needed.
Alex breaks the kiss, just barely, panting softly, his lips slick and red. His eyes are wild, burning with lust, but there’ssomething else buried there too. Restraint. Resistance. Like he’s still holding back, like he’s afraid to push too far.
But I don’t want his restraint.
I don’t want him holding back anymore.
And he sees it in my eyes, in the way I rock into him once desperate, trembling.
He lets out a low, guttural curse.
Then, suddenly, his hands grip my waist tightly, and I gasp when he lifts me effortlessly. My legs wrap around his hips on instinct, like they already know where they belong. My arms loop around his shoulders, anchoring myself to him as he carries me out of the shower stall like I weigh nothing, his body all heat and muscle beneath me.
He carries us across the bathroom with that same feverish grip, until we reach the wide marble counter beneath the long mirror, and when he gently sets me down, he turns me to face our reflection.
And I see us.
My chest is rising too fast, skin wet, my cock flushed pink and leaking with need. Behind me—Alex. Towering, powerful, breathtakingly handsome. His damp hair clings to his forehead, his sharp jaw tense with restraint, his piercing blue gaze already locked on me through the mirror.
His hands slide slowly around my waist and lower belly; it’s warm, reverent, like I’m something precious. One hand stays there, grounding me, the other glides up my chest, fingers tracing every quiver, every breath. His mouth grazes the shell of my ear, soft kisses brushing there before he moves down, his lips and teeth trailing along the curve of my neck.
“Would you let me do whatever I want to you, krasivy?” he whispers, voice low and gravel-thick with hunger, the word beautiful in his native tongue melting against my skin.
A shiver runs through me—my breath stutters. I nod fervently, my throat tightening with the need clawing up my chest.
“Y-Yes,” I whimper, eyes fluttering as his fingers roll over my nipples again, making my knees weaken, as my hips jerk back into him.
His teeth graze my neck, sharp and possessive, then his tongue soothes the sting, a silent apology and a promise all in one. I feel him. His hard and thick cock is nestled behind my ass cheeks, and the sheer heat of it makes me dizzy.
I want him. I want all of him. No barriers. No walls.
One of his hands trails upward, slow and deliberate, until it wraps gently around my throat. My breath catches. Not from fear, but from the feeling of being held. Claimed. Anchored.
Our eyes lock in the mirror.
And he searches me deeply, his gaze so intense it makes my chest ache. Looking for resistance. For fear. But he won’t find any.
I tilt my hips back, just enough, pressing my ass firmly against the thick length of him, showing him without words:I trust you. I want you. Touch me. Take me.
Something in him snaps.
With a low, guttural growl, he leans in, his breath hot against my jaw. He tilts my head with the hand still at my throat, exposing my mouth to his.
And then he’s kissing me again—hard, devouring, like he’s trying to crawl inside my chest and live there.
I moan into him, melting, my hands gripping the edge of the counter for support as his tongue slides against mine. The kiss is messy, all teeth and tongue and need, and I don’t care. I want to be swallowed whole by it. I want him to ruin me sweetly. Fully.
