I strip slowly, jeans first, then the sweater, then the plain bra and panties I put on this morning. Naked, I walk to the bathroom doorway.
Steam is already curling out. Through the glass shower door I see Rafferty under the hot water, head bowed, hands braced on the tile, letting the water beat across his shoulders and back. Blood and dirt swirl down the drain at his feet. His body is all hard muscle and tension, every line of him carved by the life he leads.
I step inside.
The steam wraps around me like silk. The water is scalding when it hits my skin, but I don’t flinch. I slide the glass door shut behind me.
Rafferty’s head snaps up. Water streams down his face, darkening his lashes. His eyes rake over me and his cock thickens visibly against his thigh before he can even speak.
“Nadia,” he rasps. “You don’t have to—”
“I know.” I step under the spray with him, close enough that my breasts brush his chest. Water slicks between us. “I’m choosing this. I’m choosing you. Right now.”
I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him like I’m starving. He groans into my mouth and finally lets go, big hands sliding down my back, gripping my ass, hauling me flush against him. His cock is hot and hard between us, pressed against my stomach, and the feel of it makes me moan.
“Tell me what you want,” he says against my lips, voice wrecked. “I’ll give you anything.”
I reach between us and wrap my fingers around his cock. He’s thick and heavy. I stroke him once, slow and firm, and his hips jerk.
“I want you inside me,” I say, looking straight into his eyes. “I want you to fuck me until the only thing I remember about tonight is how you feel. I want to come on your cock and know it’s because I chose it. Because I’m yours and you’re mine.”
“Jesus Christ,” he breathes.
He spins me so my back hits the cool tile wall, then drops to his knees in the spray. Before I can catch my breath, his mouth is on me. His tongue drags through my folds, finds my clit, and sucks hard. I cry out, fingers fisting in his wet hair. He doesn’t tease; he feasts. Two thick fingers push inside me, curling, stroking that spot that makes my knees buckle. The water beats down on us, steam everywhere, and the only sounds are my broken moans and the wet, filthy sounds of his mouth on my pussy.
I come hard and fast, thighs shaking around his head, screaming his name as the orgasm rips through me. He keeps licking me through it, gentling but not stopping until I’m trembling.
Only then does he rise, lift me like I weigh nothing, and pin me to the wall with my legs wrapped around his waist. His cock nudges my entrance, thick and insistent.
“Look at me,” he growls.
I do. Water streams down his face, his eyes are black with lust and glittering with desire.
He thrusts in with one long, smooth stroke that seats him to the hilt. We both groan. He’s so deep, stretching me perfectly, and the fullness is everything I needed.
“Move,” I beg, nails digging into his shoulders. “Don’t be gentle. I want to feel you tomorrow.”
His control snaps.
He fucks me against the shower wall like he’s been waiting his whole life for permission. Hard, deep strokes that slam into me and drag over every sensitive part of me. The wet slap of skin, the steam, the way his pubic bone grinds against my clit on every thrust, it’s overwhelming. I’m moaning, cursing, crying out his name while he growls filthy praise against my neck.
“That’s it, Nadia. Take every inch. This pussy is mine now. You’re mine. You’re going to come on my cock again and I’m going to feel you milk me dry.”
The second orgasm crashes over me even harder than the first, walls clamping down around him so tight he curses. He fucks me through it, hips stuttering, until he buries himself deep and comes with a raw groan, pulsing hot inside me.
We stay locked together under the spray, breathing hard. He presses soft kisses to my bruised cheek, my split lip, my forehead. Everywhere Kyle marked me, Rafferty erases with reverence.
When he finally sets me down my legs are jelly. He washes me gently with soapy hands, then dries me with a thick towel and carries me to his bed like I’m something precious.
We slide under the dark sheets naked. He pulls me against his chest, one arm banded around my waist, the other hand stroking slow circles over my hip.
“You okay?” he murmurs into my hair.
I smile against his skin, already drifting toward sleep for the first time in years without fear.
“I’m perfect,” I whisper. “I feel like me again.”
Rafferty
