I picked the shower gel that smelled like roses and squeezed a generous amount into my hand. I’d worked up a serious lather to scrub the dirt off my legs and feet when I heard a sound outside the curtain. It seemed to be coming from way too close to not be inside the bathroom, but I was certain I’d locked the door. I froze in place. “Who’s there?” I said softly.
The door shut. Oh my god! What happened to the damn lock!
I crossed my soapy hands over my breasts. Everything was slippery and covered in bubbles, the showerhead placed well behind me and not in a position to rinse my body off prematurely. Earlier it had been a good thing, now not so much.
“Is someone there?” I asked. I should have grabbed the curtain and checked around the edge of it, but I couldn’t move. The idea that I was standing in the shower naked while a man was on the other side of the thin curtain was both frightening and sensual at the same time. There was only one person it could be. But he wouldn’t do that … break into a locked bathroom when I was naked in it. Would he?
“You said you wanted to talk.” His voice was deep and not loud, but it wrapped itself around me like chains and held me captive. I should have run. I should have been angry and offended. But I didn’t and I wasn’t and the words wouldn’t come anyway.
“I’m … I’m in the shower.” I squeezed my eyes shut, embarrassed that this was the best I could come up with. I should have been yelling at him to get the hell out.
“I can see that. But I have to run an errand in the morning after chores, so I figured you’d want to talk now rather than wait around another day.”
I nodded rapidly, his reasoning making perfect sense … except for the fact that I was naked in the shower and it was the middle of the night. “Okay.” I hesitated, my hands still over my chest. “But no looking.”
“Fine. Even though I’ve already seen you completely naked and then some.”
I heard movement and backed into the water a little. The soap I’d put on the back of my neck was running down to travel between my butt cheeks. The slipping of the bubbles past my sensitive parts and Mack being on the other side of the curtain gave everything an erotic feel. Even my own hands on my breasts felt sexually charged.
I stepped forward and peeked out of the curtain. He was shirtless and bootless, wearing unbuttoned low-riding jeans and leaning against the counter. I swallowed hard, trying to focus on my response instead of his thick chest, six-pack abs, broad muscled shoulders, and adorable face. “What’s that supposed to mean … and then some?”
He shrugged, giving me a lazy, sexy smile. “And then some means you were naked, I was naked, and we were both doing things to each other’s naked bodies that leaves nothing more to the imagination. I know how you feel inside.” His lips curved up even more, and I swear I remembered in that moment what his tongue felt like between my legs.
I threw the curtain closed to hide my burning face, and covered my chest with my hands again. “Wow.” It was the best I could do. No other words would come to mind. My ears were ringing and my legs were feeling weak enough that I worried I might fall. I held onto the soap holder with one hand just to be sure I wouldn’t.
“I’m sorry … is that too forward for you?” he asked. He was obviously perfectly cool with everything, not showing any emotion other than slight amusement in his tone.
“Maybe,” I admitted. Definitely. Holy shit, how is he turning me into a virgin ninny-boob by just standing there in jeans and flirting a little? What is my damn problem? Is he really flirting?
“I don’t see why it should be too forward, since you claim we’re married. Married people do things like we did all the time.”
Now we were getting on more solid ground. Arguing I can do, especially when I have the evidence to back me up. “We are married, I’ll have you know, and yes, that’s true, married people do those things. But when we did those things we weren’t yet married, so technically it was never consummated. And right now, I’m engaged to be married to someone else so…” I wanted to finish that sentence with a threat, with a demand for propriety, but the words wouldn’t pass my lips. They would have been lies and I’d already told enough lies for one day.
“So … what? You’re engaged, so I should leave?”
“Yes,” I said, lifting my chin. It was easier when he said the words and I just had to agree. Chicken shit.
“And I shouldn’t get any closer to the shower, right?” His voice wasn’t coming from the sink area anymore. Without hearing his footsteps, I knew he was standing just on the other side of the curtain from me. My nipples ached with the knowledge that he was just an arm’s length away from touching me.
“No,” I said in a half-whisper. “You shouldn’t get any closer.”
“And I shouldn’t take my clothes off and get in there with you, I suppose.”
“Not under any circumstances,” I said, breathing heavily, proud that my words were finally serving me again, but ashamed to admit that I was hoping he’d ignore them. I was a bad person. Everything my mother’s boyfriend had predicted for me was coming true. Liar. Slut.
He didn’t respond. I waited several seconds for his next teasing comment, but it didn’t come.
“Mack? Are you still there?”
The curtain flew back, and I screamed in shock.
“Ahh! Oh my … holy shit!” I crossed my arms over my body in several different formations, doing everything I could to shield myself. “What are you doing, you maniac?!”
He was standing there in the middle of the bathroom completely naked, his cock like a missile pointing right at me.
He grinned big. “I’m getting in the shower with my alleged wife.” He stepped in next to me, crowding me into the heavy stream of water.
“You…!” The water was bubbling out of my mouth, making me sound like a crazy mermaid. I brushed it away while I tried to argue. “You can’t come in here! I’m naked!”
“Yes, you are,” he said, closing the curtain behind him. Then he turned to me and put a hand on my waist.
I slapped it away. “Don’t touch me or I’ll scream!” I could have pushed the curtain to the side and stepped out. I could have kicked him or thrown soap into his eyes. There were any number of other ways I could have escaped his grasp, but I didn’t do any of them. I just stood there with the water running over my head, face, and shoulders as he moved in closer, hoping he would touch me again. It was wrong, wrong, wrong to be here with him and be wanting this, but denying it was ridiculous. Emotions this strong are impossible to deny.
“Screaming could be fun. If you really, really want me to stop touching you, I will. I swear it.” He put his other hand on my other hip, his fingers digging in and encouraging me towards him. “But if you want me to keep touching you, all you have to do is say please, and it’ll be done. I’ll touch you all night. All you have to do is ask.” He didn’t smile. He was making me a promise, that much was clear.
We were close enough that his erection was poking me in the stomach. He shifted to make it rest sideways against my stomach and pulled me even closer.
I was too stunned to speak. Some of the soap was still on my skin, and his hands had gathered some of it. His fingers were sliding up my back and down to my ass, massaging my skin with heavy, commanding strokes. A hot wetness come from inside me to lubricate my folds, almost like a release, as if from the moment I’d laid eyes on him today, the passion had been waiting to be unleashed.
“We really shouldn’t be doing this,” I said in a hoarse whisper, staring at the hair that was growing damp around his face and curling at the ends.
“Why?” he asked, bending his head down to lick my ear. With just that simple touch, goosebumps came up again, all down that side of my body.
“Because…,” I said into his chest, my hands leaving their protective positions and dropping to rest on his upper arms, “…I’m engaged.” To a man I don’t care enough about, apparently. I’m a terrible person.
He yanked me up against him ro
ughly, his cock pressing against my abdomen. “No, you’re not,” he growled into my neck. “You’re married. To me. We came first, not him.”
His biceps flexed heavily under my fingers. They were bigger than I remembered. Thicker. “There’s nothing wrong with sleeping with your husband,” he insisted.
I moaned, unable to stop the sound from coming out. He was offering me forgiveness even though it wasn’t his to give, and I was letting it influence me anyway.
His lips went from my ear to my mouth, leaving a trail of kisses on the way. I moved my mouth towards his eagerly, hungrily, more than ready and willing to feel his lips on mine. But just as they were about to meet, he pulled away. We were touching at the waist, but his torso was leaning back now, leaving my breasts alone and heavy, the nipples aching to be sucked and rolled between his fingers.
He just stood there staring down at me.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I’m waiting for you to say the word.”
My nostrils flared and my chin came out mutinously. “No.” I pushed on his chest, but he didn’t move.
“No, what?”
“I’m not going to beg you. This is wrong.”
He grabbed me by the back of the head with one hand and forced my lips to his, opening his mouth and sending his thick tongue in to invade mine. My arms flew up to wrap around his neck as I pushed my hips into his. I sighed against his mouth. So much for resistance.
The soap on my breasts made moving against him so easy, so wet and slippery. All I had to do now was angle my lower body up somehow and I’d find that sweet relief that I knew only he could deliver. Memories of his heavy body on mine assailed my mind, making me admit that nothing had ever been as good since that night in Las Vegas.
“Say it,” he growled against my lips.
“No,” I growled back. “I won’t.” It was wrong, what we were doing. I wasn’t going to make it worse by begging. In the back of my mind I was thinking if I didn’t beg, I could blame all of this on the passion, on the confusion that muddled my brain any time Mack was in the same space as me. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t be blamed. I was just a sorry little slut who couldn’t control her libido.
He grabbed one of my thighs and lifted it up, hiking it over his hip. He guided his cock down to my folds, and I nearly wept with joy when it made contact. He slid the head up and down, moving it across and around my entrance, giving small pulses forward as a tease when he reached the center.
“Just one word, that’s all I need,” he said. His voice was so calm and assured. It was maddening in its business-like tone. He had nothing but control, and yet I was barely holding on. The only thing I could do was refuse to beg, but otherwise, I was all-in. Lifeplan be damned.
He put his other hand on my lower back and pulled me towards him while holding himself out and ready with the other hand. The tip slid in with zero resistance, completely covered in my slippery wetness that the shower hadn’t managed to wash away.
“Oh my god,” I said, holding onto his shoulders, looking down at where we were joined. “What’s happening?”
“I’m going to come inside you now,” he said.
I looked up to see a fierce expression bearing down on me. His nostrils were flared wide and his jaw clenched. His blue eyes were stormy with passion, his hair drenched and hanging down over his forehead. I was swept away in all of it - the dark mood, the challenge, the commanding presence of this man who’d invaded my shower, my private places, seizing what he wanted and demanding that I cave in. One simple word. That’s all it would take.
“No,” I said.
But we both knew I didn’t mean it.
His cock went in slowly, slowly. I thought he was going to stop, a vague memory of our last encounter telling me that was how he did his thing … but he didn’t stop. He kept going, filling me until there was nothing left.
I ground into him awkwardly, trying to get as close to him as I could. The shower was too small and there was nothing to hang onto. I grabbed for the curtain when he pulled out and came back inside, and managed to yank the whole thing down on top of our shoulders.
He shoved the plastic off to the side and kept going, not letting the water or the mayhem even cause a stutter in his rhythm. And the whole time he was plunging into me, he never looked away; he stared into my eyes like he was driving home a point. And I felt that point he was making with every thrust. He was taking possession of me, laughing in the face of whatever plan I’d made before coming here. He was calling the shots, not me.
He picked up the speed of his rhythm, our wet bodies making slapping sounds when they came together. I didn’t care. The act was even more erotic knowing we were making a mess and being loud about it.
As I felt the heat building between my legs and coming out from my core, I suddenly felt the need to protest. No one had ever made me feel this way and it was wrong. It had to be wrong. It made my other experiences with other men seem boring and faked. He was going to ruin everything.
“We need to stop. We shouldn’t…”
With every thrust, he gave me his response. “You. Are. My. Wife.” The last word came out as a growl.
I clung to him, no longer caring whether it was right or wrong. All I wanted was for the feeling to keep on going forever. I’d worry about the consequences later.
He stopped suddenly when he was fully buried inside me and leaned over. Shutting off the water, he bit my neck at the same time.
“Ow!” I squeaked. “What are you doing?”
“Get out of the shower,” he said, pulling out of me in one smooth, quick stroke.
I immediately felt empty and abandoned. “What?” My brain was going in about five different directions, completely confused as to what he was doing.
He got out of the shower, his hard-on completely engorged. “Out. Put your hands on the counter and bend over.”
My eyes bugged out a little, but I didn’t argue; I was beyond any of that foolishness. I stepped out, gingerly avoiding the curtain, and did what he said. I turned my back to him, the cool air making me shiver. My nipples turned rock hard as he stepped up behind me and I bent at the waist.
“What are you doing?” I whispered, looking down at the sink. It was a silly question. We both knew what he was doing. I was playing the innocent victim and he the marauding conquerer. It worked to assuage the guilt.
“Shhhhh. Just stand there, and when you’re ready to say please, we’ll finish. Until then, be quiet while I touch you.” His big hands came around and slid across the sides of my breasts, taking them fully into his palms and squeezing them once he reached the front. My nipples were in between his fingers, and he pinched them together while squeezing my breasts over and over. A low moan escaped my throat and I closed my eyes, lost in the sensations that zipped out of my chest to other places on my body, making me wetter than ever. My insides throbbed with the need to feel him in there, stroking, sliding.
His erection was between my cheeks. I pushed into him, hoping he’d finish what he started. One hand came away from my breast to angle his cock down. It was between my legs now, and as he leaned over to pinch my nipples again, it slid in between my thighs toward the counter. It was close enough to tease but not close enough to give me any satisfaction whatsoever. It was maddening.
“You’re torturing me,” I said, leaning my head back against him as he dropped his lips to my neck and sucked. He bit and then he kissed. He licked and sucked again as he squeezed my breasts. I put my hands on the wall on either side of the mirror, giving him better access.
“The torture can stop anytime you want it to. Just say please.”
I shook my head languidly, refusing once again. “Never.” I sounded and felt drunk.
He dropped a hand and then the head of his cock was angling up to massage my entrance. “Never say never, babe. Never do that.”
“Never,” I whispered, stuck in some wonderland where he was almost filling me again. I already know what it was goin
g to feel like and I couldn’t wait to experience it again.
He pushed down on my upper back between my shoulder blades, forcing me to bend over farther. I went down gladly, opening my legs wider and offering my ass up for the taking. He came to me then, rubbing the tip around my folds, getting it wet and slippery.
“You feel so good,” he said. “And your ass. My god, I love your ass.” He squeezed one of my cheeks and slapped it. The sting felt way better than it should have.
“It’s too big,” I said, dropping my head, pushing back a little, silently begging him to come inside. This waiting was killing me.
“Let’s see about that.” He grabbed me by my hips and pushed himself inside my slippery entrance, pulling me back against him to sheath himself completely with my heat. “Oh, god, yeah.” He squeezed my hips. “That ass. Mmm!” He smacked my cheek once more before grabbing my hips again and forcing me forward and back. His arms flexed and extended, moving my lower body to slide back and forth over his full length. “Oh, no, babe.” He pumped his arms faster, pushing his hips forward and back with the rhythm. “This ass is perrrrfect exactly how it is.”
His balls were hitting my clit, making me whimper with unfulfilled need. I pulled my hand away to touch myself and he stopped moving. Grabbing me by the wrist he hissed, “No. You keep your hands where I can see them.” He forced my hand to the edge of the sink and pushed it down, not letting go until I wrapped my fingers around the edge of the counter.
He went back to pumping himself into me, squeezing my hips in his iron grip and forcing me to stay right where he wanted me. I was at his mercy, halfway to pleased and most of the way to frustrated, all the while loving the way he was taking command and making me do things I was pretending I didn’t want to do.
“Touch me,” I demanded.
He slammed into me harder, our bodies slapping louder with the impact. “Beg me,” he challenged.