But tonight… Tonight her enthusiasm was electric, her skill unexpected and precise, leaving me gasping as she worked me with a perfect blend of tease and intensity. The way she drew out my pleasure until I was lost in it. Those eyes locked onto mine as she took me deeper, pushing me right over the edge. It left my vision blurring at the edges.
Well, she just unlocked a rusty, forgotten door I thought I had sealed forever.
My jeans are still open, the zipper parted, and fabric splayed, my cock, now heavy and relaxed, and my skin cooling in the gentle draft that whispers through the room.
With a frown, I tuck myself away and pull up the zipper. My hands feel clumsy, thick and uncoordinated.
I leave the conservatory behind and climb the stairs. A restless fire ignites in my veins, licking higher with each step. What’s her game? Why did she run from me right after baring that raw vulnerability downstairs? Why not lean into the spark that she’s so clearly ignited?
I approach her door and knock firmly on the wood. My knuckles rap, sharp and insistent, but no answer comes. I turn the handle and hear the faint, steady rush of water from the bathroom. A spike of irritation and anger twists in my chest. Is she washing off the traces of what we shared as if it were a mistake? The thought fuels a reckless edge, so I enter her suite.
Her scent envelops me immediately, floral and intoxicating—drifting towards me like an invisible pull that draws me deeper, stirring memories of her body against mine. The bed stands unmade in the soft glow of a bedside lamp, sheets twisted and rumpled in chaotic folds like evidence of her own inner turmoil, pillows dented where she must have paced or tossed in agitation. The fabric is still creased and warm when I reach out to touch it.
The whole scene whispers of the unrest that mirrors my own.
Steam wafts out in lazy curls that carry the faint scent of her soap. It draws me as irresistibly as an iron filing towards a magnet. My feet move before my mind catches up. I push the door further open and slip inside.
And there she is, under the spray of the shower, her silhouette blurred through the rising steam but unmistakable—the curve of her hips, the arch of her back. She's got one hand braced against the slick tile wall, fingers splayed for support. Water streams down her arm in rivulets. The other hand is between her thighs, circling her clit with urgent, rhythmic strokes—fingers moving in tight, desperate circles that make her body tense and release in subtle waves. Her head is thrown back,wet hair plastered to her neck and shoulders, water cascading over her face as soft, desperate moans escape her lips, breathy and uncontrolled.
To my astonishment and delight, she calls out my name.
"Blake, Blake, ooh God...”
The words tumble out raw and needy, her voice cracking on the edges with building pleasure. They bounce off the marble surfaces, each syllable sending a surge of triumph rushing through me like electricity. My cock hardens instantly at the sight of her, lost to pleasuring herself… to thoughts of me.
I smile then, a predatory grin curving my lips, slow and satisfied as I watch her for just a moment longer, relishing her utter gorgeousness. Then I strip completely, yanking my shirt over my head in one swift motion and tossing it aside. My jeans and boxers follow in record time.
I step into the shower, and she gasps at my sudden presence. Her eyes fly open in surprise, but she melts into a deep moan as I press close, my body aligning with hers under the spray.
Chapter Thirty-Six
JULIET
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bx51eegLTY8
-Take my breath away-
The water cascades down my skin like a thousand warm fingers, tracing paths over my shoulders, breasts, and thighs, mingling with the slick heat building between my legs. It’s been a very long time since I masturbated in the shower, but I can’t help it—the need is too fierce, too insistent, a fire that sucking him off downstairs ignited is still smoldering deep inside me.
It rearranged something in my brain, turning every rational thought to mush, leaving only this raw, pulsing urge that demanded release. Without relief, I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep—tossing in the bed, my body aching with the memory of his cock in my mouth, the velvet hardness sliding over my tongue, the way he'd groaned my name like a plea, that salty burst flooding my senses and lingering even now. And so here I was, chasing that release alone, fingers circling faster, chasingthe edge that hovered just out of reach, my moans slipping out soft and desperate into the steam.
To say I nearly jump out of my skin at his sudden appearance will be the understatement of the year.
My heart slams against my ribs, and a sharp gasp tears out of my throat as I whirl around. Water splashes in chaotic arcs across the tiles and glass. My hand is still frozen between my thighs, fingers trembling and shock rooting me in place.
And Blake…Blake is magnificently naked. And his eyes. Oh God! His eyes devour me whole. He is starving. Starving for me.
He steps into the stall without a word, his body cutting through the spray like a god emerging from the mist. His hair is plastered wet instantly, dark strands clinging to his forehead and neck. Rivulets run down his fabulously chiseled chest, trace the defined ridges of his abs, and keep running, all the way down to his jutting cock. It is already thick and ramrod hard with intent.
I remained frozen, my pulse thundering in my ears louder than the shower's roar. He’s seen me touching myself to fevered thoughts of him, calling his name like a confession. I should be cringing with shame and embarrassment, but all I can think of is the ache still throbbing deep in my core.
"I'm here," he says, his voice low and rough, as he closes the distance between us. Water sluices over his broad shoulders, streaming down in sheets that glisten on his skin, the heat of him radiating even before he touches me. "You called for me."
I open my mouth to answer him, and he swoops down and kisses me—his mouth claiming mine in a deep, devouring press that steals my breath.
I melt.
His lips are firm and insistent, and his hands grip my hips with bruising strength, pulling me flush against the hard planes of his body, our wet skin sliding together under the spray. Myback presses against the slick tile wall, cool at first against my heated flesh, then warming as he covers me completely, his weight pinning me there in the best way.
