“Oh, yes, you can,” he said. “You can’t even imagine how much you can.” He took her hand and placed it on his fly, and he was so damned hard she felt another shiver dance over her body. She wanted this. This part of him, and all of him besides. She wanted his cock, and she wanted it inside her.
She reached for the button, but he’d already unfastened it, and she just had to manage the zipper in the wet fabric. It stuck, of course, but he had narrow hips and she simply shoved his pants down, his cock jutting forward.
“While you’re down there,” he said beneath the pounding water, “take me in your mouth.”
Sudden fear sliced through her, and she shook her head, trying to draw away. He caught her, pulling her up against him, moving her back against the tile, kissing her with such wicked intensity that her temporary panic melted away, and heat steamed through her body.
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he whispered in her ear, then sank his teeth onto her earlobe, and she wanted to arch up against him.
“I’m sorry . . .”
“Shhhh,” he quieted her. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. No rules, just what feels good. And what I want now is you. I’m going to fuck you, fuck you fast and hard, and you’re going to take it, aren’t you?” His voice was low, intense, and he was doing something with his hand. It took her a moment to realize he was sheathing himself with a condom; she had no idea where it had come from and she didn’t care. “You’re going to let me fuck you blind, and when you come you’re going to put your mouth on me and scream into my skin until you can’t scream anymore. And then I’m going to take you into the tiny bed in your room and we’ll do it all over again.”
She stared at him, the water splashing down over them, clinging to his long, long eyelashes, and she knew she’d do almost anything he wanted. Even . . . that. “Yes,” she said.
He slid an arm under her butt and hauled her up, pressing her against the wall, pulling her legs around him. She only had a moment to savor the feel of him against her, and then he pushed into her, hard, as he’d promised, and she started to come again.
“Not yet,” he growled in her ear. “Don’t come yet.”
“I don’t . . . know if I . . . can help it,” she gasped.
“You can.” He punctuated his words with a hard thrust that pushed her up against the wet, slippery wall. “You can do exactly what I tell you to do. You’re going to let me fuck you, and you’re going to fuck me back, and when I tell you to come then you will.”
She wanted to tell him it didn’t work that way, but she was past words. The pulse of him, the push of him, each time rocking her hard against the tile wall, was turning her brain to mush and her body into nothing but a mass of sensations. She could feel her climax struggling to break free, and she tried to think of something else, to prolong it, but all she could think of was him, inside her, that hard, veined part of him. She trembled on the edge as he thrust into her, again and again and again, their bodies slapping together, slapping against the wet tile, until she was panting, gasping for breath, suddenly afraid of where she was going, afraid of losing everything, of never coming back from this cataclysmic storm of desire.
He hauled her up tighter against him, going deeper than he had before, so deep she cried out with pleasure tinged with pain, her body beginning to spasm around his cock.
“Not yet,” he said. “Not yet.”
Her eyes had been closed in the darkened bathing room, but she opened them beneath the tumbling water, wanting to see his face as he took her. His eyes would be closed and he would be in some other universe, lost in the journey to completion.
But his eyes were open. Staring at her, so dark, so dark. “That’s right,” he whispered. “Look at me. Watch me as you fuck me. I’m not one of your polite academics, Angel. I’m something you’ve never seen before, and you need to know who you’re with.”
As if she could forget, she thought weakly, staring at him, into his eyes, shaking so hard she thought she would fall apart. She tightened her grip on his shoulders, and he moved closer still, his strong, wet body covering hers, and he was slamming into her, again and again and again.
“Put your mouth on my shoulder,” he whispered in a tight voice. She obeyed immediately, licking the water off his skin. “Bite,” he said, slamming her back against the tile, going rigid in her arms, and her pent-up release erupted, a scream started in the back of her throat, and mindless, blind, she sank her teeth into his shoulder, harder as each wave hit her, an endless trail of climaxes, each one stronger than the last, until she was sobbing, she could taste blood, and he was still thrusting inside her, slowing almost imperceptibly.
She let go of him, her head falling back with a gasp as she shuddered helplessly. He pulled her against him,
and she let her forehead rest against his shoulder as he held her, his hands surprisingly gentle as they stroked her back.
Which was beginning to hurt, she realized dazedly. Everything was beginning to hurt, though she cried out in distress when he pulled free from her and tried to set her on her feet.
She couldn’t stand. She sank to the wet floor in a little heap of exhaustion and overstimulation and closed her eyes. Would he leave her now? Walk out of the place in wet clothes? Or stark naked—she could see him being arrogant enough to do that. She didn’t like arrogant men. She couldn’t think of anyone but him.
He was standing over her. He’d removed the condom, and his cock was at eye level, still erect. She had just enough strength left to lift her head and look at him.
He was looking troubled, or so it seemed to her in her dazed state, but a moment later he’d leaned down and scooped her up in his arms, and his lazy smile warmed her bones. “Poor little angel,” he murmured. “I’ve worn you out.”
She realized the shower was off, their clothes in a wet heap in the middle of the floor. She dropped her head against him, so weary.
He carried her, both of them naked and dripping, through the third-floor hallway. She hadn’t closed her door completely, and he kicked it open, slamming it shut and locking it while he still held her. The next moment she was down in the concave single bed, the big fan blowing over her, making its customary racket, and the hot air stirred around them.
She was so sure he would leave her. But he slipped into bed beside her, pulling her back into his arms, his tenderness a polar opposite of the fierce sexual possession. She wanted to cling to him; she wanted to cry. She’d never felt like this before, even remotely. He’d leave, and she’d get over it. But right now he was here, and that was enough.
She could feel his mouth at her ear, just as she could feel his chest against her tender back, feel the hard bar of his cock against her butt. He kissed her, very softly. “This isn’t good,” he whispered. “This isn’t what I planned.”
“What isn’t?” she asked sleepily, snuggling against him.