Chapter 33 #2
He finally steps back, reaching for the soap and washing himself quickly.
I tilt my head back under the spray, rinsing the conditioner out of my hair, trying to focus on the water running over me.
But the sound of him, the sight of him, the heat radiating from him—it’s impossible to ignore.
Every muscle he flexes, every careful movement, makes a coil of need tighten low in my stomach.
By the time I lift my head and blink the water from my eyes, I’m painfully aware of just how much I want him. The steam, the scent of lavender, the echo of his hands across my skin—it all works together, leaving me aching for him.
“Rowan,” I breathe. I’m not even sure what I’m asking for, only that I can’t stay still anymore.
I step closer, my hands drifting over his chest and tracing the planes of muscle as I memorize the way his skin feels under my fingers.
“Let me,” I murmur, helping him rinse off. My hands linger, fingertips brushing over his arms, along his sides, mapping him without shame.
My fingertips brush lower, following the trail of dark hair below his navel. When my fingers wrap around his thick length, his head falls back with a groan that echoes off the shower walls.
“Violet,” he rasps.
I press closer, letting the warmth of the water soak between us. My thumb drags over the slick head of his cock, feeling him pulse beneath my touch. A shiver runs down my spine at the sound of his breath hitching.
He guides me until my back hits the tiled wall, his own hands pressed to either side of my head. My lips graze his neck, and I begin to pump him steadily with my hand.
“Fuck,” he hisses, his forehead dropping to mine as I continue stroking him. He grows impossibly harder, a bead of moisture forming at the tip. I swipe my thumb through it, using his own slickness to ease my movements.
“I like seeing you like this,” I whisper, emboldened by the way his breathing has turned ragged.
He doesn’t answer with words, just a guttural sound that vibrates through his chest. More precum leaks from him, coating my fingers as I work him with faster strokes.
His hips jerk against my hand, every pulse and shiver of his body a reaction to my touch. I can’t look away from how his muscles bunch and release, how his jaw tightens with each slick stroke. He’s mesmerizing.
“Christ, Violet,” he groans, his voice a rough whisper against my ear.
I increase my pace, twisting my wrist in the way I’ve learned he likes. His breathing grows more ragged, his forehead leaning against the tile beside my head. The water cascades down his back, steam swirling around us as I work him closer to the edge.
I love the power I have in this moment, the way this strong man is trembling because of me.
“I’m about to come all over those pretty little hands and that tight little body if you don’t stop,” he grits out.
“Then come for me,” I whisper, the words slipping out before I can think better of them.
His eyes flash dark, a growl rumbling in his chest as he thrusts harder into my grip. His whole body tenses, muscles going rigid as he pulses in my hand. Hot streams coat my stomach, my fingers, mixing with the shower spray. I don’t stop until he hisses and gently captures my wrist.
Without thinking, I lift my hand to my mouth and slowly lick his cum from my index finger, my eyes never leaving his.
His voice is strained as I lick another finger clean. “Holy fuck.”
Watching the way his breathing quickens again has me drawing my middle finger into my mouth just to see his reaction. In a split second, his mouth crashes to mine, his tongue pushing past my lips, tasting me and himself.
His moan echoes against my lips as he kisses me harder.
The water beats down on us, already starting to cool, but neither of us seem to care.
His hands grip my waist, lifting me up against the tile wall.
My legs instinctively wrap around his hips, my arms looping around his neck as he holds me suspended.
He’s already rock hard again, pressed against my stomach.
I grind down against him, letting out a low, needy whimper into his mouth. “I need you inside me. Please, Rowan.”
He doesn’t hesitate. He lifts me higher and buries himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust. I cry out, my head falling back against the tile.
He pulls back and slams into me again. Every movement drives me higher up the wall, my back sliding against its slickness. I cling to him, nails digging into his shoulders, legs locked around his waist.
“Harder,” I beg, not recognizing my own voice.
His rhythm turns punishing, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing around us. “Look at you gripping me, soaking my cock. I’m not stopping until you’re dripping all over me.”
I can’t do anything but hold onto him tighter. There’s a pressure building inside me that I’ve never felt before. It’s more intense, more overwhelming than I’ve ever felt. My thighs begin to tremble uncontrollably against his hips.
“Oh god, Rowan. Something’s… I feel…” I can’t finish my sentence as the sensation builds to an unbearable peak.
“Give it to me,” he growls against my ear, his pace never faltering.
The pressure snaps like water busting through a dam’s barriers.
A rush of intense pleasure floods through me, and I feel myself gushing around him, soaking us both.
I cry out his name, my voice echoing through the bathroom as waves of the most powerful orgasm I’ve ever experienced crashes through me.
“Fuck, Violet!” Rowan’s rhythm falters, his fingers digging into my ass as my release triggers his own. He slams into me one final time, burying himself impossibly deep as he pulses inside me. I feel every throb, every spurt as he empties himself.
I gasp for breath as my legs loosen, and I sag against him, forehead resting on his shoulder.
The water cascades down around us, but I suddenly realize there’s a wetness between us that isn’t just from the shower. I blink, confused by the slippery sensation all over my thighs and stomach, and Rowan’s, too.
“What just…” I stammer, looking down between our bodies.
“You… You just…” His voice is thick, raw, full of disbelief and something like awe. “Violet, holy shit.”
My cheeks flush hot, but I can’t help the laugh that bubbles up. “Did I just—oh my god.”
I’ve read about it before—squirting. Heard Whitley talk about it once after too many margaritas. But I never thought I’d—
“Violet,” Rowan interrupts my thoughts, his voice husky as he tilts my chin up to meet his gaze. “That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”
I bury my face against his shoulder. “I’ve never done that before. I didn’t even know I could.”
“Well, you can.” His voice is rough with satisfaction as he carefully lowers me to my feet, keeping one arm locked around my waist when my legs wobble. “And I’m adding that to the list of things I’m going to make you do again.”
I peek up at him through my lashes, unable to stop the smile tugging at my lips. “Is that so?”
“You coming so hard you soak us both? Absolutely.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “That was fucking unreal, baby. Now come here.”
He captures my lips again in a long, heated kiss that leaves no room for doubt before he rinses us off again with cooling water.
We get dried off, and when we’re back in our room, he pulls back the covers and waits for me to slide in, his bare body joining me.
His arms find me in the darkness, pulling me against his chest until my back is flush against him, his heart beating steadily against my spine.
Just when I think he might be drifting toward sleep, he shifts, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at me. His eyes trace my face, lingering on my lips before meeting my gaze with an intensity that steals my breath.
Without a word, he lowers his head, capturing my mouth in a kiss that starts as a gentle press but quickly deepens. His tongue slides between my parted lips, tasting me with unhurried care.
The kiss is slow and sweet. His tongue strokes against mine, drawing a soft moan from my throat. When he finally pulls back, his eyes are dark in the dim light, filled with so much emotion it makes my chest ache. He brushes his thumb across my bottom lip, swollen from his kiss.
“Thank you,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion.
I reach up to touch his face, fingers tracing the stubble along his jaw. “For what?”
“For trusting me.” His eyes search mine, something vulnerable wavering in their depths. “For being here. For making this house feel like a home.”
I swallow hard, blinking back the unexpected sting of tears. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
He pulls me closer, tucking me against his chest in a way that’s both protective and desperate.
“Get some sleep,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
I close my eyes, lulled by his warmth and the gentle rise and fall of his chest.