Shine Not Burn(68)

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.