Chapter 2: Steamy Shower Sex
The deep, post-coital silence of the bedroom was broken only by the rustle of sheets as Sebastian shifted, his skin cooling where their sweat had dried. He nuzzled the back of her neck, his arm a heavy, comforting weight across her waist.
“I’m sticky,” Alexis murmured, her voice thick with sleep.
“I know.” He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Shower?”
She nodded, a slow, languid movement. He slid out of bed first, his naked form a pale shadow in the dark room, and offered her his hand. She took it, letting him pull her up. They moved through the familiar darkness of their home, not bothering with lights, guided by memory and the faint glow from under the doorframes.
The master bathroom was a sanctuary of marble and warm, hidden lighting. Sebastian reached in and turned the shower on full, a cascade of water instantly beginning to steam and hiss. The room quickly filled with a thick, humid cloud, carrying the scent of sandalwood and the simple, clean soap they both used.
He led her into the large, glass-enclosed space. The hot water was a shock, a blissful punishment on their sensitized skin. It sluiced over their heads and shoulders, washing away the evidence of their earlier passion. Sebastian reached for the shampoo, working a rich lather between his palms before massaging it into her scalp. His fingers were strong, knowing exactly where the tension gathered at the base of her skull. She leaned into his touch, her eyes closed, a soft sigh escaping her lips.
But the tenderness was a prelude. His hands, still slick with lather, slid from her hair down the slope of her back, over the curves of her ass. He turned her gently, firmly, until she was facing the fogged-up glass. The cool surface was a stark contrast to the steam heat enveloping them.
“Stay,” he murmured, his voice a low command against the drumming water.
He pressed his body against her back, his erection already hard and urgent against the cleft of her ass. His hands roamed her wet skin, possessive and rough. One hand slid between her legs from behind, his fingers parting her folds, finding her still swollen and sensitive from before. She gasped, her forehead resting against the cool glass, her breath creating a small, clear circle in the fog.
“You’re so fucking wet for me,” he growled into her ear, his voice raw with renewed desire. “Still. After all that.”
He worked a finger inside her, then two, stretching her, his thumb circling her clit with a relentless, practiced pressure. Her hips bucked against his hand, a wordless plea. The pleasure was sharp, almost too much, a direct line from his touch to the core of her.
Then his hands moved to her ass, gripping her cheeks, spreading them apart. The air, thick with steam, touched her most intimate skin. He leaned down, and his tongue, hot and wetter than the shower, traced a slow, deliberate path over her tight backdoor.
“Seb…” she breathed, her body jolting at the intimate violation.
“Shhh,” he soothed, his breath a warm ghost against her. “Just feel it.”
His tongue was insistent, probing, licking and circling that forbidden knot of nerve endings until she was trembling, her knees weak, her moans lost in the sound of the water. It was filthy and exquisite, and it sent shockwaves of pure, undiluted lust through her entire body. She was panting, pushing back against his mouth, completely surrendered to the sensation.
He straightened up, his cock sliding through her slickness from behind, the head nudging against her entrance. He gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh.
“You want this?” he asked, his voice strained.
“Yes,” she choked out. “God, yes. Fuck me, Sebastian.”
He drove into her in one long, brutal thrust, filling her completely. The force of it slammed her chest against the cold tile, her breasts flattening against the hard surface. A sharp cry was torn from her throat.
He didn’t pause. He set a punishing rhythm from the start, each thrust a deep, claiming piston of his hips. The water cascaded over them, mingling with the sweat beading on his back. The sound of their bodies slapping together was loud and wet, echoing off the marble walls.
“Look at you,” he grunted, his voice guttural. “Look at how you take me.” He reached around, his hand finding her breast, pinching her nipple hard, sending a fresh bolt of lightning through her.
She was mindless with pleasure, her world reduced to the feeling of him pounding into her, the cold tile on her front, the steam heat on her back. She met his thrusts, arching her back, offering herself to him completely.
“Come for me, Lexi,” he commanded, his pace becoming frantic, desperate. “I want to feel you come around my cock.”
His words, the raw filth of them, were the final trigger. Her orgasm ripped through her, violent and consuming, her inner muscles clenching around him in a series of relentless spasms. She screamed, a raw, shattered sound that was swallowed by the steam.
Feeling her climax, he lost his own control. With a final, deep roar, he buried himself to the hilt and poured into her, his own release a hot, pulsing flood inside her. His body shuddered against hers, his grip on her hips the only thing holding them both upright.
They stayed like that for a long moment, braced against the wall, the water slowly cooling around them. His forehead was pressed between her shoulder blades, his breath coming in ragged gasps against her skin.
Slowly, carefully, he pulled out and turned her around, gathering her into his arms. He held her as the water rinsed them both clean, his hands stroking her back in slow, soothing circles. The frantic energy was gone, replaced by a deep, satiated calm.
He reached out and turned off the water. The sudden silence was profound, broken only by their slowing breaths and the drip-drip from the showerhead.
He grabbed a large, fluffy towel and wrapped it around her, then one for himself. He dried her with a tender focus, patting her skin gently, as if she were something precious and fragile.
“Okay?” he asked, his voice soft now, back to the man she knew.
She looked up at him, her eyes clear and full of a love so fierce it almost hurt. “Always.”
He smiled, that slow, easy smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Good.” He kissed her forehead. “Now, let’s actually try to get some sleep.”
But as he led her back toward the bed, his hand resting possessively on the small of her back, she knew the night held more. The hunger between them was a constant, low-burning fire, and it was far from extinguished.
The hunger between them was a constant, low-burning fire, and it was far from extinguished. Back in the cool darkness of their bedroom, the damp towels formed a heap on the floor. Sebastian’s hands were already on her again, his mouth finding hers in the dim light, tasting of toothpaste and their shared shower.
He walked her backward until her knees hit the edge of the mattress. “I’m not done with you,” he murmured against her lips, his voice a low thrum that vibrated through her entire body.
She fell back onto the sheets, pulling him down with her. His weight was a familiar anchor, his erection already pressing insistently against her thigh. The scent of clean skin and sandalwood soap clung to them, a sharp contrast to the animal need coiling in the room.
His lips traveled down her neck, over her collarbone, his tongue flicking a nipple until it hardened into a tight peak. She arched into his mouth, her fingers tangling in his still-damp hair. “You’re insatiable.”
“For you?” He lifted his head, his eyes dark pools of intent. “Always.” His hand slid down her stomach, his fingers combing through the wet curls between her legs. He found her clit, swollen and hypersensitive from the shower, and circled it with a relentless, knowing pressure.
She cried out, her hips bucking off the bed. The pleasure was so sharp it bordered on pain, a direct and overwhelming current. “Seb, please.”
“Please what?” He didn’t let up, watching her face contort with each slow, deliberate circle of his thumb.
“I need you inside me.” The words were a ragged plea.
He shifted, positioning himself between her legs, the head of his cock nudging at her entrance. But then he stilled, his gaze locked on hers. “I want to try something else.”
A flicker of uncertainty crossed her features. “What?”
His voice was low, a conspiratorial whisper. “I want to fuck this perfect, tight little ass of yours.” He squeezed her cheek for emphasis. “I’ve wanted to for so long, Lexi.”
Her breath hitched. They’d talked about it, joked about it in the lazy afterglow of other nights, but never taken that step. The memory of his tongue there, in the shower, sent a fresh, illicit thrill through her. It had felt so dirty, so good.
“I don’t know,” she breathed, her heart hammering against her ribs.
“I’ll go so slow,” he promised, his thumb stroking her inner thigh. “We’ll stop the second you say. But god, the thought of being inside you there… it makes me harder than I’ve ever been.” He guided her hand to his cock, and she felt the thick, rigid length of him, a vein pulsing against her palm.
The trust between them was a tangible thing, built over years. She saw the raw need in his eyes, but also the unwavering care. She took a shaky breath and gave a single, tentative nod. “Okay.”
“Yeah?” A slow, wicked smile spread across his face. “My good girl.”
He moved with deliberate care, rearranging them until she was on her hands and knees, the position feeling both vulnerable and powerfully erotic. He kissed the small of her back, his hands soothing her trembling muscles. He reached for the bottle of lube they kept in the nightstand, the click of the cap loud in the quiet room.
The cool gel was a shock. He warmed it on his fingers first, then began to massage it into her, his touch achingly gentle. One slick finger pressed against the tight ring of muscle, circling, applying a steady, gradual pressure. She gasped, burying her face in the duvet.
“Breathe, baby,” he coaxed, his voice steady. “Just breathe through it for me.”
He worked his finger in, just to the first knuckle, and she clenched around the foreign intrusion. It was a strange, stretching fullness. He held still, letting her adjust, peppering her spine with soft kisses. “You’re taking me so well.”
When her body began to relax, he pushed deeper, sliding his finger all the way in. The sensation shifted from strange to intensely intimate. He moved it slowly, in and out, a mimicry of what was to come. A low, surprised moan escaped her lips.
“You like that?” he asked, his voice thick with awe.
“I… I think so.” It was a revelation. The feeling was different, deeper, a direct line to a core of her she didn’t know existed.
He added a second finger, stretching her more thoroughly now. The burn was there, but it was eclipsed by a building, coiling pleasure that started to radiate outward. She found herself pushing back against his hand, wanting more.
“Fuck, you’re ready,” he groaned, withdrawing his fingers. She heard the sound of him slicking himself up, the wet, slick sounds fueling the filthy, thrilling energy in the room.
He positioned himself behind her, the broad head of his cock pressing where his fingers had been. He placed a firm, steadying hand on the small of her back. “Ready?”
She nodded, her knuckles white where she gripped the sheets. “Do it.”
He pushed, just an inch, and the world exploded into a white-hot burst of pain and pressure. She cried out, a sharp, involuntary sound.
He froze instantly. “Okay? We stop.”
“No,” she gasped, the initial shock already receding, transforming into an overwhelming, stretching fullness. “Don’t stop. Just… go slow.”
He obeyed, pushing forward with infinitesimal slowness, a millimeter at a time. The burn was intense, a searing stretch that made her see stars. But beneath it, something else was awakening. A profound, deep pleasure that made her toes curl.
“Oh my god,” she whispered as he finally seated himself fully inside her, his hips flush against her ass. He was so deep, so impossibly deep. She felt utterly filled, utterly possessed.
He stayed like that, buried to the hilt, both of them panting. “Jesus, Lexi. You’re so fucking tight.” His voice was a strangled rasp.
Then he moved, a slow, tentative withdrawal followed by an even slower thrust. The friction was unbelievable. It wasn’t the frantic, pounding rhythm from before. This was something more primal, more consuming. Each deliberate stroke seemed to touch her soul.
“Harder,” she heard herself beg, the words torn from her. “Please, Sebastian, fuck me harder.”
A guttural sound ripped from his throat. He gripped her hips, his fingers biting into her flesh, and began to pound into her in earnest. The slapping sound of their bodies was lewd and perfect. The pain had vanished, replaced by a mounting, screaming pleasure that coiled tighter and tighter with every brutal, perfect thrust.
“You love this, don’t you?” he grunted, driving into her again and again. “You love my cock in your ass.”
“Yes!” she screamed, the admission freeing her. “Oh god, yes, I love it!”
Her orgasm built from that deep, secret place he was claiming, crashing over her without warning. It was longer, more seismic than any she had ever experienced, wracking her body with violent, endless convulsions. She screamed his name into the mattress, her vision blurring at the edges.
Feeling her climax around him, he lost all control. With a final, roaring thrust, he poured into her, his own release a hot, pulsing flood that seemed to go on forever. His body collapsed over hers, both of them spent and trembling.
For a long time, they just lay there, connected, his weight a welcome comfort. He finally shifted, pulling out with a soft, wet sound, and gathered her into his arms. He turned her onto her side, holding her close against his chest, his lips in her hair.
“Okay?” he whispered, his hand stroking her arm.
She turned her head, her eyes meeting his in the dark. A slow, sated, utterly wicked smile spread across her face. “When can we do that again?”