Chapter 24 #2
Then her breasts, hands cupping and washing and maybe paying significantly more attention than was strictly necessary for cleanliness. Her nipples hardened under my palms, and I couldn't resist circling them with my thumbs until she gasped.
Down her stomach, feeling her muscles flutter under my touch. Her hips, fingers spanning her waist.
I turned her around gently, hands sliding down the elegant line of her spine, memorizing every vertebra, every curve.
When I reached her ass, I took my time there, too.
More time than anywhere else, honestly.
Hands sliding over the wet, perfect skin, fingers digging in slightly, kneading and appreciating. Mapping territory I fully intended to claim again soon.
She gasped sharply when I let my hand slip deliberately between her thighs from behind, fingers brushing through her folds where she was already slick with arousal that had nothing to do with soap or water.
"Kane," she breathed, voice breaking slightly.
I removed my hand slowly, teasingly, and finished washing down her legs with the same meticulous thoroughness she'd shown me.
When I finally stepped back, I looked at her with the most completely straight face I could manage and said deadpan, "Okay, I guess we're done here. What now? Should we get lunch? I'm kind of hungry. Maybe find that café we talked about."
Ella turned around slowly, water streaming down her body in rivers, and shook her head deliberately.
Lust, clear and unmistakable in her dark eyes.
She reached up with both hands, pulled me down for a kiss that immediately promised this shower was very far from over.
Her tongue slid against mine, hot and demanding, and I groaned into her mouth, hands finding her hips and pulling her flush against me.
The kiss turned feral fast—teeth clashing, tongues tangling, water cascading over us like a curtain of heat. Her nails dug into my shoulders as she pressed her body tighter against mine, breasts flattening against my chest, nipples hard points dragging across my skin with every shift.
I lifted her without breaking the kiss, hands sliding under her thighs, lifting her effortlessly until her legs wrapped around my waist. The movement was instinctive, primal—her slick heat sliding along my cock in a tease that made us both groan.
She rocked against me, grinding her clit along my length, the friction obscene and perfect and maddening. Water sluiced between us, making everything slicker, hotter, more urgent. It was maddening and delicious in all the right ways.
“Inside,” she gasped against my mouth, voice wrecked. “Now.”
I didn’t need to be told twice.
One hand braced against the shower wall for leverage, the other gripped her ass, holding her steady as I notched myself at her entrance.
I pushed in slow—agonizingly slow—feeling every inch of her stretch around me, hot and tight and perfect. Her head fell back against the tile, a broken moan escaping as I filled her completely, bottoming out with a roll of my hips that made us both shudder.
“Fuck,” I growled against her throat, teeth grazing her pulse. “So fucking good.”
She clenched around me in response, nails raking down my back hard enough to leave marks.
I started moving—slow at first, long deep thrusts that dragged against every sensitive spot inside her. Water pounded against my back, steam swirling around us, turning the world hazy and dreamlike.
Her legs tightened around me, heels digging into my ass, urging me deeper, faster. I obliged, pace building, hips snapping forward with increasing force. The wet slap of our bodies echoed off the tiles, obscene and rhythmic, mixing with her gasps and my low groans.
All pretense was gone. We were animals now, out for one thing and one thing only.
I shifted angles slightly, hitting that spot inside her that made her cry out—sharp, desperate, beautiful. One hand slid between us, fingers finding her clit, circling in time with my thrusts.
“Come,” I rasped, voice rough with need. “Let me feel you.”
She unraveled almost immediately, body clenching hard around me, inner walls fluttering and milking as her orgasm ripped through her. Her cry echoed off the walls, broken and raw, nails digging crescents into my shoulders.
The sight of her—head thrown back, mouth open in silent scream, body trembling in my arms—snapped the last of my control.
I thrust deep once, twice, burying myself to the hilt as I came hard, spilling inside her with a guttural groan that felt torn from somewhere primal. My hips jerked with aftershocks, holding her pinned against the wall while we both rode out the intensity.
For long seconds, neither of us moved—just breathed, foreheads pressed together, water still cascading over us like it could wash away everything outside this moment.
Then slowly, carefully, I eased out of her and lowered her legs until her feet touched tile again. She swayed slightly, unsteady, and I caught her against me, arms wrapping around her waist to keep her upright.
We stood like that under the spray, letting water rinse away soap and sweat and the evidence of what we’d just done.
Eventually, she lifted her head, eyes heavy-lidded and satisfied, a small smile curving her lips.
“Still want lunch?” she asked, voice husky.
I laughed—low and rough—and kissed her forehead.
“Food can wait.”
I turned off the water, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it around her shoulders before scooping her up in my arms.
She laughed softly, surprised but not protesting, arms looping around my neck as I carried her out of the bathroom.
We were both still dripping wet, water trailing across the floor in small puddles, but neither of us cared.
I carried her straight to the bedroom and set her down on the edge of the mattress.
She looked up at me, eyes dark with renewed hunger, towel slipping off one shoulder.
“Again?” she asked, half-teasing, half-daring.
I dropped to my knees in front of her, hands sliding up her wet thighs.
“Again,” I confirmed, voice low and certain. “And again after that.”
Her breath hitched as I kissed the inside of her knee, then higher, tasting water and skin and her.
Because once I’d let myself have her—once I’d crossed that line—there was no going back.
No pretending this was temporary or casual or anything less than what it had become.
She was mine.
And I was hers.
And whatever waited outside these walls—whatever threats were coming—could burn, for all I cared.
Right now, in this moment, the only mission that mattered was making sure she never doubted exactly how much she was wanted.
How much she was needed.
How much she was mine.
I pushed her gently back onto the bed, following her down, already hard again and ready to prove it.
The day stretched ahead of us—full of danger, answers, and the unknown.
But for now—
For right now—
There was only this.
Only us.
And I intended to make every second count.