Chapter 3: The Shower Surprise
The sheets were cool where their bodies weren't touching. Josh traced the line of Demi’s spine with a single fingertip, from the delicate knobs at her neck down to the dip just above her ass. She shivered, pressing back into him. The sun had climbed higher, painting stripes of hot gold across the rumpled bed.
“We smell like sex and cheap champagne,” she murmured, her voice muffled by the pillow.
“It’s a good smell,” he said, burying his nose in the messy knot of her hair.
“It’s a gross smell.” She twisted, rolling onto her back to look at him. Her breasts shifted with the movement, and the sight still sent a jolt through him.“Shower?”
He knew it was more than a question about cleanliness. It was an invitation into a new intimacy, a shared, vulnerable space.A test, perhaps. “Yeah.”
The bathroom was tiny, the air still thick with the steam from her earlier solo rinse. They moved around each other with a quiet, deliberate courtesy, bumping hips, exchanging small smiles. He adjusted the water, testing the temperature until it was hot enough to prickle his skin.
She stepped in first, a gasp escaping her as the spray hit her. He followed, closing the fogged glass door behind them, sealing them in a warm, echoing cave. The water sluiced over them, plastering her blonde hair to her skull, running in rivulets between her breasts, over the flat plane of her stomach.For a moment, they just stood there, letting the heat work into their muscles. Then her hands were on him, slippery with soap, sliding over his shoulders, his chest, his abdomen.Her touch was methodical, claiming. When her fingers wrapped around his cock, already hardening under her attention, he let his head fall back against the tile with a thud.
“My turn,” he said, his voice rough.
He took the bar of soap, working up a lather in his hands.He started with her shoulders, massaging the tension away, then moved down her arms. He soaped her breasts, his thumbs circling her nipples until they tightened into hard peaks. She leaned into his touch, her eyes closed, water beading on her lashes.
He knelt on the hard porcelain, the water beating down on his back. He washed her legs, her feet, his hands moving with a reverence that felt new, even after everything they’d just done. Then his hands slid up the inside of her thighs, parting them.He looked up, meeting her gaze. Her blue eyes were dark, heavy-lidded.
“Josh,” she whispered, a warning or a plea.He didn’t use the soap here. He just leaned forward and pressed his mouth to her, his tongue finding her clit through the wet, soft curls.Her knees buckled. A hand slapped against the shower wall for balance.“Oh, fuck,” she breathed.
He ate her with a focused hunger, licking and sucking, delving inside her with his tongue. The taste of her, clean and musky underneath the soap, was intoxicating. Her thighs trembled around his head.Her hips began to rock against his mouth, seeking a rhythm. Her moans, sharp and breathy, bounced off the tiled walls, louder than the drumming water.
He felt her gathering, tightening. He slid two fingers inside her, curling them, and her whole body went rigid. A choked scream tore from her throat as she came, her orgasm shaking through her in violent waves. He worked her through it, gentling his touch until she was panting, limp, her hands gripping his hair.He stood, his own need a painful throb. She was still shuddering with aftershocks when he turned her around, his hands on her hips. The tile was cold against her front, a stark contrast to the hot water and the heat of his body pressed against her back.“Lift your leg,” he murmured into her ear.She obeyed, bending one knee. He hooked his arm under her thigh, hiking it up, opening her to him. With his other hand, he guided himself, the broad head of his cock nudging against her wet entrance. He pushed in, a slow, inexorable invasion that made them both groan. She was so tight, still fluttering from her climax, and so impossibly deep from this angle.
He set a brutal pace from the start. There was no patience left, only a driving, desperate need to claim and be claimed. Each thrust was a full-body collision, his pelvis slamming against her ass, the sound wet and obscene. The shower stall seemed to amplify every noise: their ragged breaths, the slap of skin, her high, broken whimpers.
“You feel that?” he gritted out, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hip.“That’s me. All of me.”
“Yes,” she hissed, pushing back against him.“Fuck, yes. Harder.”
He obliged, pistoning into her with a force that drove her up onto her toes. The water poured over them, slicking his thrusts, making every movement seamless, ruthless. He reached around, his hand finding her clit again, rubbing rough, quick circles.
“I’m gonna come,” she warned, her voice strained. “Josh, I’m gonna—”
He felt her clench around him, a vice-like spasm that milked his cock. Her second orgasm ripped through her silently, her mouth open in a soundless scream as her body convulsed.It was too much. The visual of her pinned beneath him, the feel of her pulsing around him, the raw, animalistic truth of it shattered his control.
He pulled out just as the first jet of his release hit her lower back, white stripes against her flushed skin. He kept stroking himself, shooting thick ropes of cum across her ass, watching it mix with the water and streak down the backs of her thighs in milky runnels.Spent, he slumped against her, his forehead pressed to her shoulder blade. They stayed like that for a long minute, supported by the wall and each other, breathing in the steam.
He turned her around gently, pulling her under the water to rinse her clean. She wrapped her arms around his waist, her face against his chest. The frantic energy had burned away, leaving something quieter, more profound.He turned off the water.The sudden silence was deafening. They toweled each other dry with a quiet tenderness, a contrast to the frenzied coupling minutes before.
Back in her room, pulling on clothes—his jeans, one of his own t-shirts she claimed—the world began to seep back in.His phone, discarded on the floor, buzzed insistently. He ignored it.She sat on the edge of the bed, combing her fingers through her wet hair. “So. Maya’s debrief is going to be… thorough.”
He sat beside her, his knee brushing hers. “We could just not answer.”
“She’ll come here.” Demi looked at him, a flicker of the old anxiety in her eyes.“People will know. Everything changes.”
Josh took her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. The calluses on his palms caught against her soft skin. “It already changed.” He brought their joined hands to his lips, kissing her knuckles. “Let them know.”
A pounding on the front door made them both jump.A voice, loud and familiar, pierced the quiet.“Demi!Josh! I know you’re in there!I brought bagels and a forensic curiosity!”
Maya.
Demi looked at their linked hands, then up at Josh. A slow, real smile spread across her face—not her party smile, but one he’d only seen glimpses of before. It was a little scared, a lot defiant, and entirely his.“Well,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Showtime.”