Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Viola
The shower is all steam and heat, the glass walls already fogged so thick the outside world disappears completely.
The water cascades over us like a waterfall that seals us in together.
His large hands grab my waist and pull me flush against his body.
Suddenly, my breasts are pressed to his chest, and my hips settle against his.
I look up into his eyes. Those gold depths are rimmed by thick wet lashes and burn with something so raw and primal that it makes my knees weak. My thighs clench with fresh need.
Then his mouth claims mine, his tongue sliding against mine like he’s been starving for the taste of me.
I feel like I’m melting in his arms. Even my bones are turning liquid.
My body presses closer on instinct. A soft, helpless moan escapes my mouth, and he swallows it as if it belongs to him.
He reaches for the body wash and pours it into my palm.
“I want to watch you soap yourself,” he growls.
I lather the soap between my palms until it foams rich and creamy, the scent of jasmine rising thick in the steam.
I start with my hair, working the suds through the long strands while he watches every movement, eyes heavy-lidded.
Then I slide my soapy hands down my body—over my neck, my breasts, my stomach.
All the while I can feel his gaze follow every stroke like a physical touch.
As if unable to stop himself, he makes a tortured sound, then his hands replace mine on my breasts, palming them, his thumbs brushing my nipples until they tighten into aching peaks.
When he bends his head and sucks one into his hot mouth, I gasp with breathless surprise.
The sound turns into a broken moan as his tongue swirls around the sensitive bud.
I take the soap again and lather it over his body this time, taking my time, studying him like I couldn’t have ever imagined doing.
He is all lean, sinewy muscle and rippling strength.
The ridges of his abs flex under my palms. My hands move lower, sliding through the dips and valleys, tracing every vein that stands out along his arms. Then I reach his cock.
It’s already hanging hard and heavy, jutting out from his body.
I wrap my soapy hand around the thick shaft and stroke it slowly, feeling the bulging veins throb.
His cock grows in my grip. He groans—low and rough—the sound sending fresh heat flooding between my legs.
Our mouths find each other, pressing, desperate, tongues tangling, breaths mingling hot and fast. Then he turns me and pushes me onto the cool tiles of the wall.
With the cold marble against my palms, I arch instinctively, breasts thrusting forward, a gasp escaping me as he enters me, thick head pressing against my entrance, parting my slick folds with insistent pressure.
The stretch is immediate, intense, a sweet-burning ache that makes my breath catch hard in my throat.
With a moan of surrender, my head falls back, eyes fluttering shut as his thick shaft sinks inside me.
He’s so big it still feels impossible, every ridge dragging against my sensitive walls.
When he bottoms out, he fills me so completely it feels as if he is in my belly.
With his hips flush against my ass, he stills for a heartbeat. Both of us are breathing hard, chests rising and falling together, as he lets me feel every throbbing inch of him buried deep inside my body. The overwhelming sensation is novel and utterly addictive.
Then he starts to move.
The first few plunges are hard—powerful, possessive, almost punishing thrusts that slam into me with such controlled force they make my legs shake, and my breasts bounce with the impact. He growls low and guttural against my neck.
Then he slows down.
Deliberately. Torturously.
He pulls out almost all the way, and slow enough that I feel every ridge, every vein sliding against my inner walls, then sinks back in with the same unhurried pace, dragging the pleasure out until it’s unbearable.
I feel everything: the thick head catching on that sensitive spot just inside me, the way my walls flutter and grip him, trying to keep him deep, the slick glide of his cock coated in my arousal.
The sounds of our mating echo around us—wet slaps of skin on skin, the squelch every time he thrusts in, my own shameless moans and gasps, his low, guttural groans that vibrate through his chest into mine. They are filthy and beautiful.
Incoherent words tumble out of my mouth, broken and pleading, but he keeps that slow pace. The pleasure builds in layers—slowly becoming sharper, hotter, coiling tighter and tighter in my belly until I’m whimpering with every stroke, hips rocking back eagerly to meet him, chasing more.
Nothing exists outside this—outside him inside me, slow and deep and relentless.
I come first. A sudden shattering of my sanity. The walls of my sex clamp down hard around his cock as pleasure rips through me in long, shuddering waves. My body shakes violently as the orgasm drags on and on, every thrust prolonging it until I’m gasping.
He follows right after—hips stuttering, and a low, guttural groan tearing from his throat as he buries himself deep and comes hard.
Hot, thick spurts fill me, until I’m overflowing with slick warmth.
His arms tighten around me, holding me flush against him as he shudders through it, breathing ragged against my neck.
We stay like that—locked together, trembling, water still pouring over us—until the last tremor fades.
My legs are limp, boneless against the tile, heart hammering.
Alarm bells are flashing in my head. This is not how I thought it would be.
I’m walking unarmed into dangerous territory filled with snakes and dragons.