Showers have always been where I retreat to find another version of myself. Not necessarily cleaner, that just happens to be a happy byproduct. But a place to find my center. To realign mind with body.

Steam fogs the glass. Music drowns out everything else.

I don’t hear the door open.

I’m facing the wall, eyes closed, one hand braced against the cool tile while hot water cascades over my shoulders. I like my showers hot, and the tile cold. Caught between fire and ice, I slowly find my breath again.

I have no idea I’m not alone until his hands slide over me; one grips my hip, and the other snakes around to cup my breast. My nipple pebbles instantly against his palm. He kneads with that patient hunger that drives me wild, like he could hold me right there for hours, exactly where he wants me.

He pulls me back as he steps in, lips finding the junction of my neck and shoulder. His mouth opens to taste the water beading on my skin and gooseflesh rises to meet his tongue.

My back presses against his chest, but we’re not skin-to-skin. Heavy, water-logged denim molds against my ass. Soaked cotton clings to my spine.

He didn’t even bother to undress.

He spins me and pins me to the icy tile. The cold is a shock, and my lips part in a gasp that he swallows as his mouth crashes onto mine. He kisses me with the same raw need I feel clawing behind my ribs.

The wall warms beneath me as heat surges between us. He catches both my wrists in one hand and stretches them high above my head. His free hand trails lower. My feet shift half a step apart, sensing where he’s going. He uses three fingers—two to hold me open while the middle rests against my soaked slit, teasing my clit with light pressure, circling the edge of my entrance. I try to rock into it, desperate for friction, for more, for him inside me.

But he pins me still. His teeth graze my jaw, and I moan as he kisses and sucks a trail down my throat. All while that fingertip keeps circling, pressing just hard enough to threaten entry but never sinking in.

Until I hitch my leg around his hip and pull him close enough to feel his throb. His finger finally slides in, frictionless in my slick.

“Fuck me,” I whisper before he claims my lips again.

I taste his hunger. He tastes my need.

He curls his finger perfectly, stroking that spot that makes my knees buckle, and I whimper while he sucks my tongue. The warm water sluices over his soaked clothes and my bare skin, his denim rough against my thigh. The fabric clings to the thick line of his cock like a second skin. He pulls back just far enough to meet my eyes, then guides my hands to his shoulders. I hear the wet rasp of his zipper.

He shoves his jeans down just enough—barely past his hips—and drags the head of his cock through my slick, teasing once, twice. Then he buries himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. My cry is swallowed by the rush of water and his mouth on mine. He fucks me hard against the cold wall at my back, and I claw at the soaked fabric of his shirt, desperate for anything to hold onto while he ruins me.

He grips my ass, lifts my leg higher, spreading me open so he can grind deeper. My clit drags against his pelvis with every snap of his hips. I’m right there, teetering on the edge, and he knows it.

“Cum for me,” he demands, eyes locked on mine.

“Fuck… Jesus fucking Christ—” The words tear out of me as the tension snaps. An electric pulse races up my spine and down my thighs. My legs lock tight and I cum hard, my lips parting in a silent cry as I soak him in my release.

“Such a good girl,” he groans, fucking me through it, drawing my orgasm out until I tremble.

Then he buries himself deep and pumps me full, flooding me with molten heat. I grind against him, clench, milk him for every drop.

When he pulls out I feel it immediately—his cum dripping down my thighs.

He catches my chin, tilting my face so there’s nowhere to look but his eyes. Then he kisses me like we have all the time in the world to indulge.

His fingers drag through the mess he’s left in my cunt, gathering what’s leaking out of me. He circles my asshole with one slick fingertip, and when it mellows for him, he pushes in to his first knuckle.

“Finish your shower,” he whispers, nipping my bottom lip. “Then come join me in bed. I’m just getting started with you.”