“Hey, that's a sexist term,” he whispers, still grinning at me, enjoying the way I'm starting to twist and struggle in his grip. “I take offense to that,” he tells me, cupping my ass and lifting me up, letting go of my arms as he presses me into the wall with his body. “Now you're going to have make up for your bloody bigotry.”
“Are you going to kiss me or not?” I'm completely breathless, my words almost lost in the spray of water as it splashes against the gray-green tiles and the glass. My arms settle around Royal's neck, but I don't have to put any real effort into keeping myself propped up; he's got it covered. I trace the corded muscles in his back, his shoulders, down his arms and over the rounded curves of his biceps.
“Not until you apologize,” he says, clearly enjoying the advantage he has over me.
“In your dreams. You're the one that should apologize for giving me blue balls.”
Royal laughs, pressing his body even harder into mine, making me gasp, my legs squeezing tight around his waist as I wait desperately for him to fuck me.
“Look at that, the right proper little mayor's daughter talking like a fucking outlaw. Don't tell me I've managed to corrupt you already.”
“The only thing you've managed to do is irritate me,” I say as my fingers come up and play in Royal's wet hair, slide along the sides of his jaw, the pads of my thumbs scraping over his lower lip. When he leans in towards me, brushing his stubbled cheek against mine, I groan.
“Hmm,” he purrs, clearly relishing his position, his cock pressed tight against me, his hands kneading the soft flesh of my ass. “I like seeing you flustered, Pint-Size. It's sexy as hell. Throw that cage off, let go a little. I want to see you get wild.”
“And you absolutely will if you make me late for work,” I tell him, arching my back and pressing my breasts into Royal's body. Seemingly of its own accord, his body starts to move back, sliding against mine, the rigid length of his shaft teasing my folds, pushing against my clit.
“Who says you're allowed to go to work today?” he asks, finally, finally dropping his mouth to mine, searing me through with heat and dominating the conversation between us with his tongue. I wiggle my hips against him, eating up the sounds he makes in his throat, little growls and grunts that are too animalistic to be forced.
I coerce Royal with my hips, my breasts, try to get him to move where I want him to, fill me up and take me hard against the wall of the shower, but he doesn't take the bait. He kisses the hell out of me and then pulls back again, making me want to scream.
“Call in sick,” Royal tells me, “or it's no deal.”
“Are you serious?” I ask, but even though he's smiling, I think he really is. “I can't call in.”
“When's the last time you skipped out on work, Pint-Size?”
“I could ask you the same question,” I shoot back, his dick still pushed painfully up against me, my body wet and ready and desperate. I dig my nails into Royal's shoulders. “Either … do me or put me down.”
“Do you?” he asks with another laugh, but he doesn't let go. He adjusts his grip, holding me with one hand and guiding himself to my opening with the other. “We need to work on your sexual vocabulary, love.” I gasp as the head of his cock finds the molten heat between my thighs, pushing in just enough to tease.
“Shag me then,” I say, and that does it. Royal laughs at me at the same time he fills me up, sliding in inch by painful inch. “Jesus Christ, fuck me,” I whimper, and he grins.
“There's my girl.” Royal jerks me into him, his hands back on my ass, squeezing me tight as he moves inside of me. I'm so wet, even the shower can't wash away all the lubrication, giving us this easy slide of bodies, our eyes locked, wet hair falling into our faces.
Instead of our usual wild coupling, this happens slowly, my hands clasped behind Royal's neck, my breasts heavy and aching between us, the tips of my nipples scraping against his hard muscles. His shaft fills me completely, stretching me to the edge of what I can take, pleasure rippling through my body with each simple movement. We're at just right the angle that both my clit and my G-spot are being stimulated simultaneously, sounds slipping from my lips of their own accord.
When the water starts to go cold, Royal pauses, still looking down at me.
“Still want to go to work?” he asks me, but he's done that brain scramble thing to me again, and I'm finding it really hard to think. Royal smiles like he already knows the answer to that question, pulling out of me and setting me on my feet before he flicks off the water and grabs a towel, tossing it over my head and drying me off with his big hands. “Call in,” he says, producing his cell from the counter when I'm reasonably dry, the fluffy black towel wrapped around my shoulders. “Spend the day with me.”