doing it right or not.
He put his hand on the shower wall in front of us and lets his head hang down. I watch him closely as he closes his eyes, and his lips part, a growl emitting from his throat.
“Faster,” he orders through clenched teeth. A heat settles between my thighs, his voice vibrating through me as I stroke him faster, my thumb rubbing over the slit at the head of his penis with each stroke. I squeeze him as hard as I can, my hand not quite big enough to wrap around him all the way. His eyes flicker open again, and he looks down at my body.
His arms tighten around me, pulling me close to his body as my hardened nipples rub against his heated skin and my bare pussy rubs against his leg. A number of sensations course through me, fear, excitement, pleasure. I refuse to cling to any one of them, afraid of what may come if I do. Instead, I focus on Ivan.
“Fuck... fuck…” he roars, his hand slamming against the tiled wall. The intensity of his pleasure pours out of him, and his hardened length throbs. My arm starts to grow tired, but I know he has to be close. I continue with the same rhythm until I hear him growl and watch eagerly as ropes of semen shoot from his penis and onto the tile in front of us. The sticky substance coats my palm and when I release my hold on him and pull my hand away, I stare down at it.
His eyes are closed, and his breathing is heavy. He leans against the wall as if he needs it to hold him up straight. It takes him a few moments to recover and when he opens his eyes again, he looks relaxed and satisfied. That is until his gaze meets mine and guilt starts to paint his features. I instantly have this irrational need to reassure him.
“It’s okay… I didn’t mind.” I force a smile, but I know he can see right through it.
“I didn't plan this when I brought you up here. It wasn’t my intention, I just...” I can tell he’s sincere and means every word he says. He rinses us off one more time, never loosening his hold on me. I’m more than thankful for it, because I really don’t think I could have stood up for much longer on my own. He has been carrying most of my weight this entire time, and I wonder how the hell he’s still doing it. Then again, if I looked like him, I’m sure I could carry anything and everything around.
We get out together, and he releases me for a second to grab a towel.
He dries me off from head to toe before he wraps my body in a large towel and my hair in a smaller one. The way he does it with such ease has my mind kicking into overdrive. It seems like he has done this before and the thought of Ivan giving another woman a shower or bath like this has a lot of unwanted feelings settling into my gut. Curiosity gets the better of me and though I know I shouldn't, I ask anyway.
“Do you do this a lot? I'm only asking because it seems like you know what you are doing wrapping up my long hair in that towel.”
“I haven't done this in a very long time, and I don't typically.” Sadness coats his words. I'm relieved at his confession, and again, I don't understand why. It’s not like he really cares about me. Not in a sense that he cares what will happen to me after I leave this place.
He wraps a towel around himself before leading me to his bedroom. Once there, he deposits me onto his bed. It’s so soft underneath my legs, all I want to do is curl up and go to sleep on it.
Dread overcomes me like a wave when I remember what he said… I can shower and then I’m going back in the cell. I’ve been trying not to think about it, and I succeeded, but now that I remember what’s going to happen, I’m on the verge of crying.
This is only a short vacation from my new reality. He is going to bring me back downstairs and leave me and then I might never see him again. My eyes burn with unshed tears. I don’t know why but I don’t want to cry in