I take my time in the shower, thinking about making myself beautiful for Adrian. I shave my legs, my armpits, and my bikini area. I wash my hair twice and condition it thoroughly. The whole time I sing “Grace Kelly” song by Mika. The one I'd used to try to make Adrian crazy back at his place. I sing it at my the top of my lungs. It's an invitation, and eventually, he takes me up on it. He pulls back the shower curtain with a smile on his face. “Did you say something about bending over?” he asks.
“You were listening!”
“I always listen malyshka.” He shucks his clothes and steps into the shower with me.
“Are you going to bend me over and fuck me in the shower?” I ask hopefully, my hands sliding over his pects.
“Oh, I am definitely going to bend you over and fuck you in the shower,” he promises, stepping close with dark intent. “I’m going to do all kinds of dirty things to you.”
I lose my breath. “Like what?”
“Turn around,” he orders.
I turn and face the wall, placing my hands on the tile like I’m under arrest.
He hooks his forearm under one of my knees, lifting it up and out to the side, so I’m standing on one leg, spread open for him. “I’ve needed to plow you in this position ever since you gave me a little show in my bathroom. Remember that?”
“I remember.” I smile to myself.
“Is this what you wanted, then, dietka?” He positions himself at my entrance.
“Yes,” I admit, turning to look over my shoulder at him. He’s so handsome–so strong and sturdy. It’s grounding just to be around him. To have his attention shining on me. Every indignity I’ve suffered since I met him has been worth it. I wouldn’t trade even a minute of it. Maybe that’s the maso in me talking, but I don’t care.
I feel right when I’m with Adrian. Not so off-balance. So wobbly.
He makes me feel…centered.
If I got to keep you, Kateryna, I would build you an art studio.
I want to ask him what his plan is now. I sense something’s changed in him. But I’m afraid of the answer. Afraid to lose this burgeoning hope in my chest. This fantasy that we might have a future. That he’ll take me to Chicago and introduce me to his sister. Build me that art studio.
It’s foolish, but I don’t want to let it go.
Not yet.
Adrian pushes into me, bracing his free arm against the wall next to mine as he snaps his hips in and up. Already our bodies know each other. The rhythm comes easily. My body receptive to his, needy for his aggressive touch. The hot water in the shower has filled the room with steam, and I get dizzy from the heat building in my core.
I reach between my legs and grip the base of his cock, making a ring of my fingers for it to slide through as he arcs in and out of me.
His breath hitches, turns growly. He drills into me harder. Faster. “You’re so hot, Kateryna. So sexy. I want to give you every orgasm you ever desired.”
That simple expression is all it takes.
My intimate muscles spasm around his cock, catching and releasing as I come.
Adrian curses in Russian and pounds harder. I cry out in pleasure as lights dance before my eyes. I’m dizzy and off-balance, but it doesn’t matter.
Adrian has me, and I know with all certainty he won’t let me go.
He shouts, his movements growing jerky until he plunges deep, his dick pulsing as his hot cum fills me. I come again in the most satisfying climax of my life.
Adrian holds me up as we pant together then switches the water to cool until I regain my balance. I shut it off completely and step out, rushing to beat him to the towel. Laughing when he snatches it out of my hands and holds it open for me.
“Next you’ll be holding doors for me,” he teases, dropping a kiss on my forehead as he bundles me like pierogi in the towel.
A knock sounds on the door. “Stay here, malyshka,” he tells me, wrapping another towel around his waist before he exits the bathroom. I hear him open the door and speak to the hotel employee bringing our food.
I only briefly wonder what would happen if I came out. Is Adrian no longer afraid of me asking for help? Does he know I wouldn’t run from him now?
I wait until I hear the door close then come out and beeline–still naked–for the food.
Adrian’s smile is indulgent as he steps into a fresh pair of boxer briefs. I envy him for having clean clothes to wear. “Keep running around naked, dietka, and you’re going to get yourself fucked again.”
I pull the silver covers off the plates. “Ooh. Darn. That would be a real hardship.” I look over, biting my pinkie. “You’re so bad at it and everything.” The food looks so good I almost weep. I pick up a sandwich half and eat standing up, unable to even figure out how or where to sit first.