The steam is already thick when I step under the spray. Hot water hammers my shoulders, running in dark rivulets down my chest, turning pink where it meets the drying blood before swirling clean into the drain. I brace both hands on the tiled wall and let my head drop forward, trying to pull air into lungs that still feel too tight from the day.
Then I hear the soft click of the shower door closing.
Tanya steps in behind me.
My cock, which had only half settled after this morning’s activities, jerks heavily between my legs at the feel of her hands stroking over my back.
Her big, full, tits press against my back. Cool skin meeting overheated muscle. Her nipples drag across my shoulder blades as she rises onto her toes, and then her mouth finds the side of my neck, teeth grazing just enough to make my spine lock.
I don’t turn around yet. I let her explore. Let her decide how much contact she wants while the water sheets over both of us.
Her palms slide up my ribs. She traces every ridge, every old scar, like she’s mapping something she finally has permission to learn by heart. When her fingers reach my pecs, she spreads them wide, claiming the space. One hand drifts lower, following the wet trail of hair down my abdomen until she wraps cool fingers around my shaft.
A low sound punches out of me.
She strokes once, root to tip, slick with water and the faint remnants of earlier. My hips flex forward into her grip on instinct. She doesn’t tease. Doesn’t play coy. She works me with the same focused intensity she brings to everything else. Steady pressure, perfect rhythm, thumb sweeping over the head every third stroke until pre-cum beads again and she smears it over the crown.
“Turn around,” she says against my ear. Voice quiet and husky. It’s not a request.
I do.
And fuck.
Seeing her like this, hair plastered dark and heavy to her neck and shoulders, water running in rivulets over her collarbones, between her breasts, down the soft curve of her stomach, thighs already glistening, hits like a second punch today. Her gray eyes are molten now, pupils blown, lips parted and flushed. Raw, unguarded want.
She steps into me until our bodies align, wet skin sliding against wet skin. Her hands come up to frame my face and she pulls me down into a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue and shared breath. I groan into her mouth when she bites my lower lip hard enough to sting.
One of her legs hooks around the back of my thigh, opening herself. I feel how hot she is even through the water. Her pussy is still a little swollen from this morning, but ready for me. My hands find her ass and I lift her in one motion. Her thighs clamp around my waist, ankles locking at the small of my back. The new angle notches the head of my cock right against her entrance.
She breaks the kiss just long enough to whisper, “Don’t be careful.”
That’s all it takes.
I thrust up hard.
She cries out, her nails dig crescents into my shoulders. I don’t give her time to adjust. I pull back and slam home again, deeper, feeling her walls tremble and grip like they’re trying to keep me exactly where I belong. The shower makes every slide obscene with the loud, wet slaps echoing off the tiles.
Her head falls back against the wall. Throat exposed. I latch onto the side of her neck, sucking hard enough to mark while I fuck into her with punishing rhythm. Each thrust drives a broken sound from her throat. The angle is brutally deep, and every time I bottom out, she clenches so tight my vision whites at the edges.
“Harder,” she gasps. “Aidan—harder—”
I growl against her skin, shift my grip so one forearm is braced under her ass and the other hand is splayed against the tile beside her head. Now I can really move. Long, punishing strokes that drag the head of my cock over that spot inside her until her thighs start to shake uncontrollably around me.
She’s loud now, her moans turning into sharp cries that bounce around the enclosed space. The wrecked sound of a woman finally letting herself take what she wants.
I feel her start to tighten, rhythmic pulses that milk me from base to tip.
“Come in me again,” she pants. “Like this morning. I want to feel it, want you dripping down my thighs when we’re done. I want to be full of your cum forever—”
The words snap that primal thing loose in my chest. The thing that wants her full of my cum, dripping with it so it takes root.
I drive into her three more brutal times, then bury myself to the hilt and let go.
The first pulse is so intense my knees nearly buckle. I come hard and deep, flooding her while my teeth sink into the meat of her shoulder to muffle the groan ripping out of me. She shatters right after, her pussy clamping down in violent spasms, milking every drop while her own cries echoes off the walls.
I keep rocking into her through both our orgasms, shallow little thrusts that drag the aftershocks out until she’s whimpering and trembling.
When the last ripple finally fades, I ease her legs down slowly, let her slip from my length. Her feet touch tile but her knees are shaky. I keep one arm locked around her waist so she doesn’t slide.
