Chapter 15: Joshua drops his towel and shoves Vanja against the shower wall, water cascading over them as he grips her ass and lifts her effortlessly. 'Open those pretty legs for me,' he growls before burying his face between her thighs, his tongue lashing her swollen clit with ruthless precision as her moans bounce off the ceramic tiles.
The bus pulled into the Sabener Strasse facility just as a grey dawn bled into the sky. The silence inside was a physical thing, thick and heavy, broken only by the hiss of the air brakes and the creak of seats as players stirred. Vanja moved first, a flurry of motion, grabbing her bag and practically fleeing down the steps without a backward glance. The cold morning air hit her like a slap, a welcome shock after the suffocating heat of the bus. She could still feel the phantom imprint of Joshua’s cum drying on her cheek, the ache between her legs a persistent reminder of both men. Aleksandar avoided her eyes entirely, his shoulders hunched as he hurried towards the player’s entrance.
Joshua watched them go, a slow, satisfied smirk playing on his lips. He took his time, stretching his arms above his head as if he’d just woken from a peaceful sleep.
The next few hours were a blur of forced normalcy. Vanja buried herself in paperwork, the dry administrative tasks a welcome anchor. Training was a distant roar from the pitches, a sound that usually thrilled her but now felt like an accusation. She caught glimpses of Joshua through the windows – sharp, focused, commanding, the perfect professional. There was no trace of the brutal, possessive animal from the back of the bus. It made her skin crawl.
When the final whistle blew, she retreated to the staff wing of the showers, seeking the solitude of the small, individual stalls. The water was scalding, needling her skin, and she scrubbed until her flesh was pink, trying to wash away the memory of his touch, his taste, his mark. But the steam only seemed to amplify it, filling her lungs with the ghost of him.
The curtain ripped back with a violent rustle of plastic rings.
Joshua stood there, already shirtless, his torso glistening with a fine sheen of sweat and steam. His track pants were slung low on his hips. His eyes, dark and intent, pinned her in place.
“Out,” he said, his voice flat.
“Joshua, this is the staff—”
“I said out.” He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. The command was absolute.
Her heart hammered against her ribs. The voices of other players echoed from the main shower room, a cacophony of laughter and boisterous chatter about drills and last night’s game. They were so close. Just beyond the tiled wall.
He stepped into the stall, forcing her back against the cold, wet tiles. The curtain fell shut, enclosing them in a private, steam-filled hell. Water plastered his hair to his forehead and sluiced over the hard planes of his chest and abdomen. He crowded her, his body a wall of heat against the chill of the tiles.
“You’ve been avoiding me all day,” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. His hands went to her hips, his thumbs pressing into the delicate bones.
“I had work,” she managed, her voice trembling.
“Liar.” His fingers dug in, possessive and cruel. “You’re thinking about him. About Pavlo.” He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Did you like it? Watching him come inside you? Watching my cum drip out of you onto his cock?”
“Stop it.”
“Why? It’s the truth.” His hand slid from her hip, over her wet stomach, down through the dark blonde curls between her legs. He found her clit, already swollen and sensitive, and pressed down with a relentless circular motion. She gasped, her head thudding back against the tile. “See? Your body doesn’t lie. It remembers. It wants.”
He dropped to his knees in the streaming water. The sight was so shocking, so profoundly submissive and yet so utterly dominant, that she could only stare. The great Joshua Kimmich, on his knees for her. His hands hooked behind her thighs, yanking her forward, forcing her legs apart. The water beat down on his head and shoulders, running in rivulets down his face.
He didn’t say a word. He just buried his face between her legs.
His tongue was a flat, hot brand against her entire sex. He licked her from bottom to top, a long, slow, devastating stroke that made her knees buckle. He held her up, his grip firm on her ass. Then he focused, his mouth latching onto her clit with predatory precision. He sucked, hard, his tongue flicking rapidly over the hypersensitive nub.
“Oh god,” Vanja whimpered, her hands flying to his wet hair, not to push him away, but to anchor herself. Pleasure, sharp and electric, jolted through her. The sound of the water, the echoing voices of his teammates just feet away—it was all drowned out by the roaring in her ears and the wet, obscene sounds his mouth made against her.
He devoured her. His tongue plunged inside her, fucking her with it, tasting the remnants of himself and Aleksandar. He groaned against her, the vibration shooting through her core. He was relentless, his technique a brutal, expert assault designed for one thing: to make her come, hard and fast, against his mouth. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her ass, spreading her wider for his ravishing tongue.
“Joshua… someone will hear…” she pleaded, her voice a broken thread.
He pulled back for a second, his face glistening with her arousal and the shower spray. His eyes burned up at her. “Let them hear,” he growled, his voice rough. “Let them all hear what you sound like when you come on my tongue.” He dove back in, his hunger fiercer now. He sucked her clit into his mouth, nibbling gently with his teeth before sucking again, harder, and she saw stars.
Her orgasm built with terrifying speed, a tidal wave of sensation she couldn’t fight. Her hips bucked against his face, her fingers tightening in his hair, pulling hard. A high, keening sound was torn from her throat, lost in the steam and the water’s spray. She came with a violent shudder, her cunt clenching around nothing, her whole body seizing as the pleasure ripped through her.
As the waves subsided, he gentled his mouth, licking her through the sensitive aftershocks until she was pushing weakly at his shoulders. He rose slowly, water dripping from his chin, his eyes locked on hers. He was fully hard, his erection straining against his wet track pants.
He framed her face with his hands, his thumbs stroking her jawline. The gesture was unexpectedly tender, a stark contrast to the animalistic way he’d just used his mouth on her.
“I love you,” he said, the words clear and stark, cutting through the steam. “You are everything to me.”
The declaration was so raw, so utterly unexpected, that it stole the air from her lungs. It wasn’t a sweet nothing. It was a confession, a claim, a terrifying truth. It explained the brutality, the possession, the insane jealousy. It was all rooted in this.
Tears welled in her eyes, mixing with the shower spray. She didn’t know if it was fear or hope or a devastating combination of both. She reached for him, her hands sliding up his slick, hard chest, and pulled his mouth down to hers.
The kiss was deep, hungry, and tasted of her own essence. It was an answer. It was a surrender. It was a beginning, and she knew, with a chilling certainty, that it was also a trap from which she would never, ever escape.
The kiss in the steam was a covenant sealed in the taste of her own pleasure. He pulled away, his breathing ragged, water dripping from his nose onto her cheek. "My office. Tonight. After everyone leaves." It wasn't a request. It was a decree, and she simply nodded, the fight she’d once possessed utterly extinguished.
The rest of the day passed in a haze of tactical diagrams and performance metrics. She sat across from him in a staff meeting, her legs pressed tightly together, the phantom sensation of his tongue a constant, throbbing memory. He was all cool professionalism, pointing to graphs with a laser pointer, his voice calm and authoritative. His eyes, however, held hers for a beat too long, a dark promise flashing within them that made her stomach clench. Aleksandar, sitting a few chairs down, kept his gaze fixed firmly on his notebook, his pen digging into the paper.
That night, the Sabener Strasse facility was a tomb of shadows and silence. Vanja pushed open the heavy door to the main strategy room, the click of the latch echoing in the vast space. The only light came from the moon filtering through the large windows, illuminating the giant, polished conference table. Joshua stood before a dormant screen, a silhouette against the blueish glow.
"Lock it," he said, without turning around.
Her hand trembled as she turned the lock. The sound was final. He finally turned, his face in shadow, but his intention was a palpable force in the room. He walked towards her, his steps slow and deliberate on the plush carpet. He didn't touch her at first, just circled her, a predator assessing his claim.
"On the table," he commanded, his voice low and rough.
She hesitated, her eyes darting towards the door. "Joshua..."
"Now." The single word brooked no argument.
Swallowing hard, she turned and leaned forward, bending over the cool, smooth surface of the expensive walnut. Her palms flattened against the wood, her blouse riding up. He yanked her skirt up and her underwear down to her knees in one sharp, efficient motion. The cool air hit her exposed skin, raising goosebumps. She heard the rasp of his zipper, the rustle of his trousers falling.
He spat into his hand, the sound crude and purposeful. He slicked his hard cock, already thick and veined, with a few rough strokes. The head nudged against her, blunt and demanding. He didn't enter her slowly. He drove into her with a single, brutal thrust that slammed her hips against the table's edge, forcing a choked cry from her lips.
"Fuck," he grunted, his hands clamping on her hips, holding her in place as he buried himself to the hilt. "This tight little cunt. It’s always so fucking ready for me."
He set a punishing rhythm immediately, each deep, powerful thrust sliding her forward on the polished wood. The table squeaked with their movement. Her cheek was pressed against the cold surface, her vision blurring. The room filled with the wet, slapping sounds of their bodies meeting, of his cock pistoning in and out of her slickness. It was raw, animalistic, a claiming devoid of any tenderness.
"See that?" he snarled, his breath hot against her neck. He didn't slow his pace, his hips hammering into her. "The door."
Vanja forced her eyes open, tilting her head. There, in the slightly ajar doorway, stood Aleksandar. His face was pale, his eyes wide and fixed on the point where Joshua's body disappeared into hers. One of his hands was shoved into the pocket of his hoodie, but the frantic, telltale movement of his arm betrayed what he was doing.
"He's watching," Joshua breathed, a dark thrill in his voice. He pistoned into her harder, deeper, making her gasp. "Watching me fuck my property on the board's precious table. Watching your greedy pussy take every inch."
Aleks didn't move. He didn't look away. His hand worked faster in his pocket, his own arousal a silent spectator to the violation.
"This," Joshua growled, punctuating the word with a particularly vicious thrust that made Vanja see stars, "is how I seal deals." He slammed into her again, the table legs groaning. "This is how I own you." Another brutal plunge. "Every. Single. Part."
Vanja came then, a sharp, convulsing orgasm ripped from her by the sheer force of his thrusts and the shameful thrill of being watched. Her inner muscles clamped down on his invading length, milking him desperately. Joshua groaned, a guttural, possessive sound. He drove into her one last time, grinding deep, and she felt the hot, pulsing release of his cum flooding her insides.
He stayed there for a long moment, buried inside her, his weight heavy on her back. His breathing was ragged in her ear. Slowly, he pulled out, the wet, sucking sound obscenely loud in the quiet room. He turned his head, his gaze locking with Aleksandar's across the darkness.
then he kisses vanja gently and whispers something.
"Next time, Pavlo," Joshua said, his voice hoarse but clear, tucking his softening cock back into his trousers. "You won't just watch."
He left her there, bent over the table, his cum already beginning to leak down her thighs. Aleksandar stared for one more horrified, hungry second before vanishing into the hall, the door clicking shut behind him. Vanja didn't move. She just breathed, the cold wood against her cheek, the scent of their sex clinging to the air in the boardroom. The trap had sprung. She was well and truly caught.
He remained inside her for a long moment, his weight a solid, suffocating presence. The only sound was their ragged breathing and the faint, wet sound of him softening within her. Then, with a slow, deliberate withdrawal, he pulled out. The cold air hit her exposed, used flesh, and she shuddered.He didn't speak. His hands, which had been so brutal, moved to her hips with a startling gentleness. He pulled her underwear up, his knuckles brushing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. He smoothed her skirt down over her ass, the fabric a rough whisper against her sensitized skin."Arms," he said, his voice low and hoarse.She obeyed, her limbs moving like they belonged to someone else. He guided her arms into the sleeves of her blouse, buttoning it with a focused, meticulous care that felt more intimate than the fucking had. Each button closing was a quiet click of finality.He took her hand, his fingers lacing with hers. He led her from the boardroom, past the dormant screens and silent chairs. Her legs felt unsteady, but his grip was firm. They walked through the empty, echoing halls, their footsteps the only sound.Aleksandar was still there, leaning against the wall by the main entrance. His face was ashen, his eyes wide and hollow. He watched Joshua, the predator, leading his claimed prize away. He watched Joshua’s hand, possessive around Vanja’s.Joshua didn’t even glance at him. He pushed the glass door open and guided Vanja out into the cool night air of the parking lot. He opened the passenger door of his black Mercedes, a silent command. She slid in, the leather seat cold through her thin clothes.The engine purred to life, a low, vibrating hum. Joshua pulled out of the spot, the headlights cutting two bright paths through the darkness. Vanja stared out the window at the retreating facility. She saw Aleksandar’s silhouette, still frozen in the doorway, watching them go.She pulled her phone from her purse. The screen glowed in the dark car. Her fingers moved over the glass, numb and automatic.She typed a single message to Aleksandar.*He knows you were watching on the bus.*She hit send. Then she leaned her head against the cold window and closed her eyes, the image of Joshua on his knees in the shower flashing behind her lids. The car accelerated, carrying her deeper into the night.
The Mercedes sliced through the Munich night, a silent, expensive predator. Joshua’s hand rested on her thigh, his thumb tracing slow, possessive circles. The city lights blurred into streaks of gold and white. Vanja watched them, feeling the ghost of his cum cooling on her skin, the phantom ache of his possession deep inside her. Her phone, tucked in her lap, remained dark. Aleksandar had not replied.
He drove her to his apartment, a minimalist fortress of glass and steel overlooking the English Garden. He didn’t speak. He simply led her inside, his grip on her hand unyielding. The door clicked shut, a sound of finality. He backed her against it, his body pinning hers, his mouth descending on hers in a kiss that was less about passion than reaffirmation. He was marking his territory again. “My bed,” he murmured against her lips. “Now.”
He took her with a focused, brutal efficiency that left her breathless and raw. Afterwards, he fell asleep instantly, one arm thrown heavily across her waist, an anchor in the dark. Vanja lay staring at the ceiling, the weight of him a constant reminder. Her phone, on the nightstand, finally lit up with a single, silent vibration. A message from Aleksandar. Are you okay?
Three days passed in a strange, suspended reality. Joshua was everywhere—at her side during meetings, his hand a constant, low pressure on the small of her back, his eyes tracking her across rooms. The team noticed. The subtle shifts in power dynamics were a language they all understood. Aleksandar kept his distance, his gaze skittering away from hers, his posture tense whenever Joshua was near.
It was in the vast, empty hush of the club’s recovery pool that he finally found her alone. The water was a turquoise expanse, steam rising in gentle curls towards the vaulted ceiling. Vanja was floating on her back, eyes closed, trying to let the buoyancy silence the noise in her head. The soft splash of someone entering the water barely registered.
“Vanja.”
She startled, her feet finding the bottom. Aleksandar stood waist-deep a few feet away, water beading on his chest. The steam curled around his shoulders. He looked exhausted, shadows bruising the skin beneath his eyes.
“He knows,” she said, her voice echoing faintly in the tiled space. It wasn’t a question.
“Yeah.” Aleks ran a wet hand through his hair. “He made that pretty fucking clear in the boardroom.” He took a step closer. The air between them crackled, thick with everything unsaid—the bus, the shower, Joshua’s voice in the dark. You are always welcome. “Why did you text me?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered, the truth of it sharp and uncomfortable. “A warning. Maybe a cry for help.”
“Help?” He let out a short, bitter laugh. “What kind of help can I give you, Vanja? He owns you. He made sure I watched him prove it.” His jaw tightened. “He fucking enjoyed it.”
“I know.” She moved without thinking, closing the distance between them until the ripples from her body lapped against his chest. The water was warm, but his skin felt hotter. “He enjoys all of it. The fear. The control. The way my body betrays me for him.” She placed a hand on his sternum, feeling the frantic beat of his heart. “The way it betrays me for you.”
He stared down at her, his breath catching. His hands came up to her waist, his fingers pressing into the soft skin above her hip bones. “This is a really bad idea.”
“I know.” She rose onto her toes, her lips brushing his. It was a ghost of a kiss, a question.
He answered with a low groan, his mouth crashing down on hers. It wasn’t gentle. It was desperate and hungry, a release of days of pent-up tension, fear, and a shameful, gnawing want. His tongue plunged into her mouth, tasting of chlorine and a uniquely male heat that was entirely his own. Her hands slid up his slick, hard chest to tangle in the wet hair at the nape of his neck.
He walked her backwards, never breaking the kiss, until her back met the cool, tiled wall of the pool. The contrast of the cold tile against her shoulder blades and the scorching heat of his body was electrifying. His hands slid from her waist down to her ass, gripping her firmly through the thin fabric of her bikini bottoms. He lifted her effortlessly, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles at the small of his back.
The hard ridge of his erection pressed against the damp junction of her thighs, separated only by two layers of flimsy fabric. She ground down against him, a slow, deliberate rotation of her hips that made him curse into her mouth.
“Fuck, Vanja,” he gasped, tearing his lips from hers to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down her throat. His hands were under her bikini top now, cupping her breasts, his thumbs rubbing roughly over her nipples. “We can’t… not here.”
“Yes, here,” she breathed, arching into his touch. “Now.” She needed this. Needed the rebellion of it, the proof that some part of her was still hers to give. She fumbled between their bodies, her fingers finding the waistband of his swim trunks. She pushed them down just enough to free his cock, thick and heavy in her hand. He was already leaking, a pearl of pre-cum glistening at the tip.
She guided him to her entrance, her own bikini bottoms pushed roughly aside. The head of his cock nudged against her swollen folds. She was already wet, her body responding to his with a humiliating, eager readiness.
“Are you sure?” he whispered, his forehead pressed against hers, his breath coming in ragged pants. His whole body was trembling with the effort of holding back.
In answer, she sank down onto him, taking him inside her in one slow, inexorable slide. He filled her completely, a different shape, a different pressure than Joshua. It wasn’t about possession. It was about connection, a frantic, stolen moment of sanity.
He groaned, a deep, guttural sound that was swallowed by the steam. His hands tightened on her hips, holding her steady as he began to move. His thrusts were deep and measured at first, each one a deliberate stroke that rubbed against a spot inside her that made her see stars.
“Quieter,” he murmured against her ear, his voice strained. “We have to be quieter.”
She bit her lip, stifling the moans that threatened to escape. The only sounds were the soft lapping of water around their bodies and their harsh, synchronized breathing. The steam enveloped them, a protective, clandestine curtain. He increased his pace, his hips pumping faster, driving into her with a building urgency. The water sloshed around them, rhythmic waves breaking against the tiled wall.
Her climax built quickly, a tight, coiling pressure in her core that was different from the brutal, forced peaks Joshua wrung from her. This was warmer, deeper, a rising tide. She buried her face in his shoulder to muffle her cry as it broke, her inner muscles clenching around his thrusting length in fierce, pulsating waves.
Feeling her come undone around him shattered his control. His rhythm faltered, his thrusts becoming erratic, frantic. “Vanja… I’m gonna…” he choked out.
“Do it,” she breathed into his skin. “Come inside me.”
With a final, deep plunge, he stilled, his body rigid against hers. She felt the hot, pulsing release of his orgasm deep within her, a stark contrast to the cool water surrounding them. He held her there, pinned between his body and the wall, both of them panting, spent.
Slowly, carefully, he lowered her until her feet found the bottom. The water between her legs was clouded with their release. He rested his forehead against hers, their breath mingling in the humid air.
“He’ll kill us,” Aleksandar whispered, the words devoid of any real fear, filled only with a weary acceptance.
Vanja reached up and touched his cheek, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw. She didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say. The die was cast. The car had accelerated, and they were all just passengers now, hurtling toward whatever came next.