They could see me through the see-through glass, but I didn’t care.
I knew who it was.
I raised my head and squared my shoulders.
He could see every inch of my body, and his eyes roamed. My breasts. My stomach. My pussy. My legs. Back up to linger on my pussy. A new level of self-loathing exploded inside me, because an ache for him was forming. Again.
I felt heated, my breathing hitched.
When he looked at my breasts, they hardened. My nipples craved him touching them, covering them. His eyes were black now, his lust showing. He parted his lips before he tugged his eyes up to meet mine.
I ached.
And I bit my lip because I tried not to let him see.
But he did.
He stepped forward, shedding his clothes as he came. He prowled. He stalked me.
His muscles rippled. God, those muscles. I was in a shower, and my mouth dried at the sight. That said everything. Every inch of him was defined, all the way to his stomach and past when he pushed his pants down. He dropped them on the ground, lifting his feet clear.
He toed off his shoes and socks. I knew he had a gun. But I didn’t know where it was.
He paused right before coming into the shower, his boxer briefs still on, and he waited. He waited for me.
He was giving me this decision.
I stopped thinking. Stepping out of the shower spray, I walked to him. His eyes never left mine, and they grew hungrier with every inch of space that disappeared between us. I stopped right before him.
My body was slick.
His chest lifted in a slow breath. He still didn’t move. He waited.
And then I lifted the bottle, took a last swig, and handed it over. He took it, set it behind him in the sink. And he waited again.
My chest rose, a small motion as I filled my lungs once, then closed the distance.
His heat. He was power. I’d felt it before, but not like this, not when I knew he was going to be inside of me. My breasts touched his chest. My hand skimmed down his side, following the dips and rises of his muscles until it came to his waistband, that one last bit of a barrier between us. My lips grazed over his shoulder as I began to push his boxer briefs down.
His mouth found mine, and that was it. He took command. Demanding.
He picked me up, walking back into the shower, and my hand found him. My fingers wrapped around his cock, and I held him as his tongue swept into my mouth.
He wasn’t inside me yet, but I still felt him. He pushed all the darkness away. It didn’t matter in that moment that he was the reason it was there in the first place. He claimed me, and if I were being honest, I would’ve admitted he’d claimed me long ago.
He pressed me against the shower wall, and I wound my legs around his waist.
Our mouths opened over each other, and I groaned, my fingers tightening over him.
A rush of air left him. He pulled back just enough to growl, “If you don’t put me inside you in the next second—”
I lined him up with my entrance and pushed my hips down. He waited, letting the tip sink in before he dropped a hand to my waist and thrust the rest of the way.
There.
That’s how we were supposed to be, as one.
Another savage growl left him as he dropped his mouth to my throat. He paused. He was waiting for me again.
I began moving my hips, rocking into him.
His hand slid back up my side, grabbing my breast and covering my nipple. He bent, his mouth taking one breast as he kneaded the other. Then he started thrusting. Hard.
I gasped, a shout working its way out of my throat.
There was no foreplay here. The entire time I’d been with him was our foreplay. This was now. Enough waiting.
I rode him as hard as he was fucking me.
I needed more.
I laid my head back against the wall, my mouth gaping at the pleasure coating every fucking inch of my body.
He moved in and out, forceful, and I met every roll of his hips.
Fucking hell.
In. Out.
Harder.
Deeper.
Faster.
I raked my nails down his arms, curving in and holding on for balance.
I slammed down on him until a guttural groan left him and his hand grabbed my waist. He held me still, then began thrusting harder. I didn’t think he could’ve, but he