Cassius #2
She tries.
I swear there’s nothing in my life that’s ever felt this right.
I get my shirt off, her hands immediately flattening against my chest like it’s hers.
Maybe it is. It sure feels that way.
I pop my jeans open, kicking my shoes aside. She toes her sneakers off and steps out of her shorts, half balancing on me as she does. It’s awkward and stupid and we almost trip over each other, laughing into each other’s mouths.
“This is so dumb,” she whispers, breathless. “We’re gonna get caught.”
“Positive thinking.” I brush my fingers under the waistband of her underwear for just a second, feeling the muscles of her stomach jump. “We’re absolutely not getting caught.”
“We’re going to get caught,” she repeats faintly.
I smile against her mouth and pull her closer anyway.
I’ve got a condom in the back pocket of my jeans, because how could I not after the way this week has been going. I grab my pants off the floor, dig it out, and tear it open.
She watches, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, water beading along her collarbone from the spray she started as I grabbed my condom. I step us under it with care.
“Prepared much?” she whispers.
“Sunshine,” I say, rolling it on, “I’ve wanted you for four years. You think I go anywhere without one now that I have you?”
Her gaze drops once, quickly, then snaps back to my face, her lips parting. “I named it well.”
I laugh, low. “Don’t start with Loch right now.”
“Loch is an icon,” she argues, looping her arms around my neck. “He deserves recognition.”
“He’s busy.”
“So am I,” she says, tugging me down into another kiss.
The water is hot where it hits our shoulders, cooler where it splashes down our backs. Her skin is slick under my palms as I brush my fingers down her sides, memorizing every curve again, as if it changed from yesterday.
Her back hits the tile gently and she wraps her legs around my hips, trusting me to hold her there, and I do without a problem. I’d hold the whole damn building up if I had to.
The second I align my cock to her wet pussy, her breath hitches against my mouth. Slowly, I slide inside her, trying not to groan when I’m all the way in. Her walls clench around my shaft hard enough to make me take a breath.
She always feels so good.
“Cass,” she whispers.
“You okay?” I pause, brushing my nose against hers. “Tell me if you’re not.”
“I’m fine,” she assures me, voice shaking slightly. “Just… adjusting like always.”
“Good,” I admit. “We’ll go slow. You tell me if anything hurts, or if you want more. You’re in charge.”
She huffs a tiny breath that might be a laugh. “You are such a liar.”
“Only about small things. Not about this.”
Her eyes soften in a way that makes my chest ache.
“You already know I trust you.”
That right there? That’s the part that undoes me, more than anything else.
We find our rhythm, wild and needy, because no matter how often we do it, it always feels like the first. The hot water beats down on our bare skin as I thrust up into her, each deep stroke pulling a fresh gasp from her throat.
Everything is muffled laughter and quiet curses, her nails digging into my shoulders when I hit that perfect spot inside her, her breath hot against my ear as she mutters my name like it’s all she has left.
At one point, she bites down hard on my shoulder to keep from crying out when someone else walks into the bathroom, the pipes groaning as another shower turns on down the row.
I wrap an arm tight around her lower back, holding her higher against the wall so her feet don’t touch the floor and can’t be seen under the curtain.
My cock stays buried deep inside her, throbbing with the need to move.
My heart is pounding so hard I swear she can feel it against her chest. We wait, still tangled together, her face buried in my neck, both of us trying not to laugh and give ourselves away while her walls flutter and squeeze around me.
The second the door clicks and footsteps leave, she lets out a breathless little giggle.
“We’re so bad,” she whispers.
“Speak for yourself. I’m a delight.”
She squeezes around me so tight and perfect that it kills that argument fast.
“Yeah,” I manage. “Okay. Bad. Sure.”
Her hand slides up the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair as everything gets hazier and tighter and more intense. I keep fucking her in slow, deep rolls of my hips, grinding against her clit with every thrust while the water streams down between our bodies.
When it hits, it hits both of us hard enough I have to brace my forearm against the wall to stay upright.
Her pussy clenches and pulses around my cock in strong waves as she muffles her cry against my shoulder, and I swear I see fucking stars as I come deep inside her, spilling hot and thick while she trembles in my arms.
I hold her through it, breathing hard against her hair, pressing soft kisses to her wet temple and cheek. We stay like that longer than we probably should, the water beating down on our shoulders, our bodies glued together, both of us shaking a little as everything slowly comes back into focus.
“Holy shit,” she whispers eventually.
“Yeah. That about covers it.”
She snorts, her breath warm on my collarbone. “We definitely shouldn’t have done that here.”
“No,” I agree, brushing my fingers lightly up and down her spine. “But I regret nothing.”
She laughs again, quieter this time, and relaxes more of her weight into me, trusting me to keep holding her up.
We clean up quickly—well, as quickly as two people can when they keep getting distracted, touching and kissing and laughing because someone left their shower caddy and Zae starts roasting all their products.
“Who uses pineapple body wash?” she whispers, holding up a bottle and wrinkling her nose. “This is a crime.”
“Put it down,” I murmur, trying not to laugh as I chuckle. “You’re gonna get us caught by Big Pineapple.”
She sticks her tongue out at me and puts it back.
I turn off the water, step out first, and grab our towels, handing hers through the curtain. She wraps it around herself and gives me a look that says, if anyone sees me like this, I’m haunting you forever.
“Nobody’s seeing anything,” I promise, wrapping my own towel around my waist and making sure the coast is clear before letting her slip out. I hide her clothes under mine in a bundle against my chest.
We sneak down the hall like we’re twelve, tiptoeing even though there’s no need. She’s half hiding behind me, clutching the top of her towel.
We make it to my door without being caught and duck inside, backs hitting the wood as we both let out matching breaths.
She looks at me, and I look at her, then we both start laughing.
“We’re so stupid,” she says, grinning.
“Absolutely,” I agree, dropping the clothes on my floor and closing the distance between us. I brush my fingers along her damp cheek, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “I’d do it again, though.”
She arches a brow. “In the showers?”
“Maybe not while the entire floor is awake,” I say. “I like living here. But yeah.”
She shakes her head, but there’s that look again, soft and sweet. She pushes up on her toes and kisses me once, slow and unhurried this time.
My hands find her waist without even looking. When we finally pull apart, I tuck her against my chest, pressing my mouth to the top of her head.
It’s been one week.
I’m still not used to this.
I don’t think I ever will be—and honestly?
I love it like this.