Chapter 41
Aida
I’m slumped against Cal like a goddamn rag doll. He practically had to carry me into the bathroom, and he held me against him, his arm a vice around my waist, as he waited for the shower to run hot.
That arm is still around me, holding me up as we stand under the spray together. My arms are clasped behind his neck, and I’m drinking in the view. Because that mask was fucking hot, but his face is better. Especially when he’s smiling his beautiful smile at me.
This is so crazy. My little boys are tucked up at home under the care of their favourite sitter, and I’m standing under a shower in a sex club with the sexiest guy I have ever met in my life, feeling sore and used and just-fucked and more alive, more sated, than I can ever remember feeling.
We just blew way through our first-fuck plan and then some. That was the most insane, out-there thing I’ve ever done. The thought makes me giggle.
‘I’m so proud of you,’ Cal says, dipping his head so he can rub his nose against mine. ‘I had no idea you were such a greedy little slut for my dick.’ He backs up his comment with a slap on my ass.
‘I had no idea either,’ I tell him honestly, watching with pleasure as those warm brown eyes crinkle at my response. ‘And I definitely had no idea you were such a depraved motherfucking thug.’
The smile disappears. He tugs me more tightly into his arms and buries his face in my neck. My fingers trail through his wet hair. He’s so huge, and so strong, and so overly virile in so many ways, and yet he still has this boyish quality that I find totally unfamiliar and extremely charming.
He ghosts light kisses down my neck. ‘Yeah,’ he mutters against my skin.
‘You’re absolutely right. That wasn’t what you signed up for.
I feel like we vaulted over about a million steps in our programme.
I really pushed you hard in there, and I am so incredibly sorry.
That was pretty fucking intense, even by my standards.
I was a fucking animal, no two ways about it. ’
I pull away a little so I can see his face.
I have no idea how I’ll feel about all this tomorrow, when the orgasm fog has lifted and I’m reviewing our actions in the cold light of day.
Especially when I review them with my producer hat on.
But right now, in this steamy shower with Cal’s arms around me, I’m flying high.
‘Hey,’ I tell him. ‘I’m great. It was amazing. You got me so worked up. I didn’t know I could be that… feral.’
His smile returns, more rueful now. ‘We were both feral.’
‘So you roughed me up a little. I loved it. You blissed me out. We’re all good.
’ I slide my hands over the gorgeous planes of his damp skin so I can cup his face.
‘I’m still processing, but I know for sure that was the most intense, amazing sexual experience of my entire life.
The only regret I have is that I’m forty-six and I wish this would have happened earlier. ’
And I wish it would have happened with a man I chose to spend the rest of my life with instead of a beautiful, devastating sex club owner who’ll be giving another woman that same treatment before I can say parliament.
Only I don’t say that part, because he’s erasing my regrets the best way he knows how, with his mouth on mine as he strokes a firm hand down my wet hair, smoothing it over my scalp, my neck.
There’s something about his gentleness in this moment after his roughness just now that my soul craves as much as my body does. The same parts of me that needed him to cuff me and flip me over and spit on me and fuck me now desire his kisses. His praise. His tender touches.
Maybe it’s closure. Maybe it’s a validation of sorts. A way for his body to tell mine that everything’s okay. That I could get off on a masked man ravaging me, because it wasn’t real, and now he’s confirming that through what is basically a very sexy cuddle.
Being in the shower with him, though, and having his wet, strong body pressed against mine? That feels dangerous in a whole other way from his masked persona. Because just as I’ve been sexually frustrated, this past year—and longer—I’ve been lonely, too.
I’ve been lonely in my divorce, and I was a lot lonelier than I realised in my marriage, too.
I’m not ready to walk away from Cal’s orgasms yet.
Nowhere near ready. But a pang of wistfulness hits me as Cal’s tongue sucks on mine, as his fingers trace the bumps of my spinal column with something approaching reverence.
Almost as if I’m missing this easy intimacy already, even when I’m right in the middle of it.
He releases me to pump some body wash into his hands, and the entire stall fills with a gorgeous botanical scent as he rubs his palms together.
Then he’s smoothing his hands over my body with a light, sensual touch.
He frowns a little, intently focused on his task, before raising his head to shoot me a grin that’s devastating in its boyish sincerity.
I turn away and grab some body wash so I can soap him right back.
Because that pang just got a whole lot worse.