I listen for movement, but don’t hear water running through the spout or any sound at all. I frown, concentrating on her footsteps, on her breath, until I can’t stand the suspense. I pull the curtain back just enough to see her.
Well, fuck me sideways.
My heart hammers against my skull like a damn machine gun. She’s standing completely naked in front of me, staring and breathing heavily. I pull the curtain back all the way. Taking her in, every part of me races in every direction until I’m dizzy with it. She forces a nervous smile, her eyes dropping to my erection. She gasps, her gaze snapping back to my face.
Checking me out?
I saw that, Blesk.
I study her; breasts heavy and full, nipples firm and the perfect shade of pink. Her skin is smooth—no, fucking flawless. And that stomach is soft and flat but not toned. Perfect. My eyes drop to her bare, pink pussy.Fuck.
Clearing my throat, I quickly adjust the water temperature, cooler. I need it cooler. “Duch, you?—”
“Shh.” She steps into the shower. “I want to.”
“How much have you had to drink?” I ask, backing myself into a corner of the shower, so my hands can’t reach out and grab her.
“A few glasses of wine, Konnor. Stop pretending you’re a gentleman. I know you aren’t like this with other girls.”
I don’t overthink that. She saw me with Pemberton, maybe. That’s not an unfair thing to say. And my brain-blood is in my cock right now.
The water splashes over my shoulders, spraying her chest, leaving beads that trickle down her skin.
“Well, you aren’t like other girls.”
She leans in and kisses me, sliding her tongue into my mouth and humming against my lips. I’m naked. She is naked. My brain has no blood, but I’m pretty fucking sure this means— I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her against my body so her skin presses to the length of mine.
She goes limp in my arms, giving me complete control to move her around the shower. My cock pounds between our bodies. I want to go slow, to savour this, to revel in it—butgoddammitif my hands don’t want to be everywhere at once.
Need more hands. Hands in hair. Hands on her arse. Hands sliding up her sides, rolling over those curves and the subtle outlines of her ribcage.
I kiss her harder. Mouth tilted. Cock knocking between us. Tongue demanding entry to her mouth.
I love you.
My lips trail desperately down her chin to my favourite spot on her neck where her pulse throbs frantically, then all over the delicate skin around her chest.
God, I love you.
Hands. Everywhere. One in her hair, one gripping her arse cheek, sinking my fingers into her flesh and grinding her into my pelvis.I love you.
She leans into my ear and purrs, “Is this what you want?”
Fuck. Yes.
“Only if you want it, Duch,” I rasp against her skin, breathless already like a damn rookie. My hand slides forward from her arse, stroking her stomach until I’m cupping her breast, squeezing and groaning as I work her nipple with my palm. My pelvis rocks against her hip. Then I lose it—push her against the shower wall. She gasps. I grab her left leg and wrap it around my back. The water makes our bodies slide together, effortless and warm. I kiss her deeper, rubbing against her. My hand moves between us, positioning my cock between her thighs.
“Oh God, Duch. Thank you.”
Then her lips go still.
A small whimper—a good whimper, I think? But I stop and pull back to look into her eyes, making sure.
My heart stops.
She’s… crying.
Fucking crying.
