She watches me the entire time, completely present, no part of herself held back.
I undress quickly and take her hand again. We step into the shower together. Warm water falls over us in a steady cascade,soaking our hair and running down our skin. Steam fills the space, softening every edge.
I turn her gently so her back is to my chest. I reach for the shampoo, pour some into my palm, and work it into her hair.
My fingers move slowly through the strands, massaging her scalp with careful circles. She leans back into me with a quiet sigh as the water rinses the suds away. I do it again, slower this time, letting my hands linger.
When her hair is clean, I turn her to face me. Water streams between us. I cup her face and kiss her, deep and unhurried. My hands slide down her body, tracing the curve of her shoulders, the fullness of her breasts, the slight bump low on her abdomen. I kiss her there too, lips brushing the soft skin where our children grow.
I turn her again so she faces the tiled wall. She braces her hands against the cool stone. I step close behind her, one arm wrapped around her just below her breasts to hold her steady, the other hand guiding myself. I enter her slowly, inch by inch, until I am fully seated inside her. The water continues to fall over us, warm and constant.
I move with slow, deep strokes. There is no rush. Only the sound of water hitting skin and tile, our quiet breathing, and the slick slide of our bodies. I keep one hand low on her belly, protective and gentle, feeling the faint curve there as I thrust. She pushes back to meet me, her body soft and open.
After a while, I turn her again to face me. I lift one of her legs, hooking it over my hip, and slide back inside her. We are chest to chest now, foreheads almost touching. Water cascades down her face and over her breasts as I move inside her. Her eyes stay onmine, dark and certain. When she whispers my name, it is soft and easy.
“Roman.”
It lands somewhere deep in my chest, the same way she said it on the terrace that night, but different now.
The pleasure builds slowly, steadily. I feel her tighten around me, her breath catching. I keep the rhythm deep and even until she comes with a quiet shudder, her forehead pressed to my shoulder.
The feeling pulls me over with her. I bury myself deep and stay there as release moves through me in long, quiet waves.
We stay joined under the falling water for several long moments. I hold her steady, one arm wrapped around her ribs, the other resting protectively low on her soft belly. The warm water continues to cascade over us, soothing and constant. Her breathing is still ragged against my neck. I press a slow kiss to her wet shoulder and feel her shiver.
Finally, I ease out of her with a quiet groan. She makes a small sound of protest at the loss, and I smile against her skin.
I turn off the water. Steam fills the bathroom like a soft veil. I step out first, grab a large, thick towel, and wrap it around her shoulders before drying myself quickly.
Instead of carrying her immediately, I pull her close again, right there on the cool tile floor. Our bodies are still damp. I cup her face and kiss her deeply, tasting the water on her lips. She kisses me back with renewed hunger, her arms sliding around my neck, her wet breasts pressing against my chest.
We barely make it out of the bathroom.
We stumble toward the bed, mouths fused, hands roaming. I back her up until her legs hit the edge of the mattress.
She laughs softly into the kiss. It’s a bright, happy sound that makes something tight in my chest loosen even more. I lift her onto the bed and follow her down, covering her body with mine.
This time there is no slow patience.
I kiss down her neck, then lower, taking one full breast into my mouth and sucking hard enough to make her back arch.
Her hands fist in my damp hair. I move to the other breast, biting gently at the sensitive nipple before soothing it with my tongue. She’s already wet again, hips lifting restlessly against me.
I slide two fingers inside her, curling them, stroking that spot I know so well. She moans my name, low and needy. When she starts to tremble, I replace my fingers with my cock, thrusting into her in one smooth, deep stroke.
This round is harder, faster. I fuck her with long, powerful strokes, the wet sound of our bodies filling the room. Her legs wrap tightly around my waist, heels digging into my back, urging me deeper.
I brace one hand beside her head and reach between us with the other, rubbing tight circles over her clit.
“Come for me again,” I murmur against her ear.
She comes harder this time, her walls clamping down around me as she cries out.
The feeling drags me over the edge right after her. I bury myself as deep as I can and come with a low groan, pulsing inside her in hot, heavy waves.
We collapse together, breathing hard, skin slick with sweat and leftover shower water. I roll us so she’s lying on top of me, her head on my chest. My arm wraps around her back, holding her close. Her breathing slowly evens out, deepening and becoming steady.
She falls asleep before I do.
