“You know you want to.”
She stared up at him. What she wanted to do was peel off her sodden jeans, her water-filled sneakers, her saturated shirt and beat him over the head with them.
She spoke carefully, the way one would to an obtuse child.
“Are. You. Insane?”
She prided herself that she had kept her temper in check. She was the employee, he was a guest of her boss. But fercrissakes!
He laughed. The look of outrage that danced across her face was amusing as could be, and framing her face in his hands, he kissed the tip of her nose, then took her mouth again.
Nothing seemed to shut her up faster than that.
The steam built up in the shower, the hot water cascading over his bare shoulders, the overspray splashing into her face. She blinked, blinked again.
Geeze. He kissed her and her fucking brain shut off.
She hated that. She hated that her fucking cunt was throbbing. She hated that one of her biggest fantasies, ever, was sex in the shower.
It had, at least up to this point in her life, about the same chance of happening as her flying to the moon with her own two arms. It had seemed so unattainable that it had made it onto her damned bucket list, fer chrissakes!
And yet she knew.
She knew without a doubt that he would unbutton her denim shirt, peel it down her arms, just as she had fantasized.
And so he did.
Unlike the mystery lover in her fantasy, he didn’t ask. No, no, he just did it. And she? She just let him.
Somehow that made it all the hotter. He just….took.
“You’re insufferable. Rude. I…I…” she sputtered as he tugged the sleeve over her left wrist.
“Put your hands behind your back.”
Gods knew why, but she fucking did it. She was so complacent! Damning herself, she stood there while he wrapped the wet shirt around her wrists.
She did nothing but moan when he pulled her closer to his chest, as his hands reached up, and without unfastening her bra, he jerked it up, baring her tits.
He bent to take one in his mouth, sucking and biting.
She moaned, arching against him.
“Greedy slut,” he said against her nipple before biting uncomfortably hard.
He pushed her away, and down to her knees.
“Suck,” he commanded, his cock bobbing under the hot spray. It was a magnificent cock, not too long, not too much girth. It was, in her estimation, pretty close to a perfect cock. His even had prominent veins, rather than being smooth-shafted, and his balls hung heavily beneath his shaft.
Obediently she opened her mouth, preparing to give him the “boyfriend blowjob”, a little lick ‘n tease around the bulbous head, and a stab of her tongue into the hole at the tip.
Despite her plan, in seconds, her mouth was crammed full of cock. He pressed his hand to the back of her head, and his thickness to the back of her throat.
She couldn’t push away, not with her hands tied behind her, tied with her own damned shirt! She couldn’t push away, not braced on her knees on the slick tub bottom. She coughed, gagged, tried to toss her head.
Surely in a moment she would die, she thought, then gasped for air as his cock slid out. His finger tapped her chin, and squinting up through the spray, she looked at him.
“Lesson one. You take what I give you, and enjoy it.”
“Now, open your mouth again.”
She would open her mouth, alright, she thought angrily. She was ready this time, to give him a piece of her mind, but once again, her open mouth was swiftly filled with him. This time he rocked his hips, fucking in and out of her lips. She gagged as he hit the back of her throat, then took a sharp short sweet breath when he withdrew.
His hand cupped her chin firmly this time.
“Tell me, my little fiery slut, tell me you want my cum.”
She looked up at him. No way she was going to just sit here like a…a trained puppy and beg. No, she’d put her own spin on this, the cocky bastard deserved it!
Despite the water cascading over her, forcing her to blink, she responded in her most haughty tone.
“I have enough to clean without your cum getting everywhere. So just let me swallow it so there will be one less thing for me to tidy up.”
His hand left her chin and stroked his cock. She was mesmerized by the slip and slide of his hand on his own sex. She’d never seen a man jack off before.
He was rougher, pumping quickly with firm fingers, that what she would have felt comfortable trying. After all, she thought a cock was tender flesh, meant to be handled carefully. She would never have tried to pull and tug as hard on him, on any man, as he was treating his own hardness.
He groaned and she opened her mouth, eager at last for a taste of his essence.
He pushed aside the shower curtain, and shot broad strokes of cum onto the bathroom floor.
“Clean up, clean up,” he chanted. “With your tongue, of course.”
“You did that on purpose” she fumed. “Made a mess all over the floor….”
He cut short her diatribe by pulling her to her feet by her hair. Kissing her roughly while squeezing one plump tit, he laughed against her mouth before pulling away. The spray of the shower soaked them both, and tendrils of hair, hanging in thick wet ropes plastered her face.
“That’s okay,” he said, amused. “I’ve got a maid….”