Chapter 4: The Walk of Shame (That Isn't)
The insistent buzzing from Tim’s discarded jeans had finally stopped, swallowed by the thick scent of sex and vanilla that hung in Maddy’s bedroom. He lay trapped beneath her sleeping warmth, the sticky residue cooling on his thigh, the weight of his neglected life pressing down harder than Maddy ever could. He needed air. He needed to move.
Gently, carefully, he slid out from under her. Maddy murmured, a soft sound of protest, her hand flailing momentarily before settling back onto the warm sheets he’d vacated. Tim stood, muscles protesting, the room tilting slightly. The buzzing hadn't stopped; it echoed inside his own skull now. Lily's call. The deadline. The pitch falling apart. He grabbed his jeans, the phone screen flashing with three missed calls and a voicemail icon that felt accusatory.
"Shower?" Maddy’s voice, thick with sleep, drifted from the bed. She propped herself up on one elbow, the sheet pooling around her waist, her breasts swaying slightly, nipples peaked in the cool air. The possessiveness of her gaze was back, sharpening as she took in his distracted expression. "You look tense. Water's hot."
He managed a grunt, shoving the phone back into his pocket. Escape. Steam. Obliteration. "Yeah. Shower sounds good." He didn't look back as he padded towards the en suite.
Maddy’s shower was a sleek, glass-walled cubicle dominated by a wide rainfall head. Tim cranked the taps, the pipes groaning before a deluge of near-scalding water erupted. Steam billowed instantly, clouding the glass, filling the small space with thick, wet heat. He stepped under the torrent, letting the water pound his shoulders, sluicing away sweat and the lingering stickiness between his legs. He closed his eyes, trying to force the jumble of anxieties down the drain with the soapy runoff. Edit sequence B. Client feedback. Lily’s science project. Reschedule the call. Maddy’s insistent heat…
The glass door slid open with a soft hiss. Steam swirled around Maddy’s naked form as she stepped in, her skin gleaming, water instantly plastering her long blonde hair to her shoulders and back. She moved like a predator through the mist, her green eyes locked on him, ignoring the spray. Without a word, she pressed her slick body flush against his, the heat of her skin amplified by the steaming water. Her hands slid down his chest, over his stomach, fingers curling around his flaccid cock.
"Still thinking about work?" she murmured, her lips brushing the water-slick skin of his collarbone. Her fingers began to work him, firm and knowing. Not gentle. Purposeful. Squeezing the base, sliding up the shaft with a twisting motion, thumb pressing into the sensitive spot just below the head. "Or your kid?"
The bluntness jarred him. "Maddy—"
"Shhh." She silenced him with a wet kiss, her tongue pushing past his lips. She tasted like sleep and something faintly minty. Her hand moved faster, twisting, pulling, demanding a response his body couldn’t refuse despite the chaos in his head. He felt himself thickening, hardening under her insistent touch, the blood rushing south, pulled by the sheer force of her will and the slick friction of her fingers. He groaned against her mouth, a sound lost in the drumming water and the steam.
She pulled back just enough to look down, watching her hand pump his cock, now fully erect, jutting up between them, water streaming over the swollen head. "There he is," she breathed, a triumphant smile playing on her lips. "Morning wood’s gone, so I made you afternoon wood. Better." Before he could react, she turned, pressed her hands flat against the slick tile wall beside him, and arched her back, presenting the perfect curve of her ass. She reached back, guiding his rigid cock to her entrance, already glistening with more than just water.
"Fuck me, Tim," she commanded, her voice low and rough. "Hard. Right now. Against the wall."
The primal demand cut through his mental fog. He needed this. The oblivion. The sheer physical overwhelm. He gripped her hips, fingers digging into the wet flesh, and with one powerful thrust, buried himself to the hilt inside her. She cried out, a sharp, guttural sound that echoed off the tiles, her head dropping between her shoulders. He felt her inner muscles clamp down instantly, a hot, wet vise welcoming the brutal invasion.
"Yes! Fuck! Just like that!" she gasped, pushing back against him.
He pulled back, almost out, savoring the drag, the cling of her tight walls, then slammed home again. And again. The rhythm was punishing, driven by a desperate need to silence everything but the sensation. Water cascaded over them, plastering his hair to his forehead, running in rivulets down her back and over the cheeks of her ass where his hips met them with sharp, wet slaps. Steam filled his lungs, thick and suffocating.
His hands roamed her slick body, sliding over her waist, up to cup her breasts. They were heavy and full, the nipples hard pebbles against his palms. He squeezed, rolled them roughly, pinched the stiff peaks, eliciting sharp gasps and moans that blended with the roar of the water. He leaned forward, pressing his chest against her wet back, his mouth finding the juncture of her neck and shoulder. He bit down, not gently, marking her as his hands kneaded her tits.
"Harder!" she demanded, throwing the word over her shoulder. "Fucking own me! Use that cock! Make me feel it tomorrow!"
He obeyed, pistoning into her with brutal efficiency. Each deep thrust jolted her body against the tiles, each withdrawal drew a wet, sucking sound. He could feel her tightening around him, the fluttering tremors signaling her approaching climax. The angle was deep, hitting spots that made her whimper, her fingers scrabbling for purchase on the slick wall.
"Gonna come," she panted, her voice tight. "Gonna come on your fat cock! Do it! Make me!"
He was close, the relentless pace, the searing heat of her, the tight grip, the sounds, the steam, the demand – it was too much. He felt the coil in his balls tighten unbearably. He slammed into her, grinding deep, burying himself as far as he could go, holding her hips immobile against him. "Come on, baby," he growled against her wet skin, his voice raw. "Squeeze my cock. Milk it. Come for me!"
Her whole body went rigid. A high, keening wail tore from her throat as her cunt clenched violently around his shaft, rhythmic spasms rippling through her inner muscles, milking him. The intense pulsing triggered his own release. With a harsh groan, he drove impossibly deeper and erupted, hot jets of cum pumping deep inside her clutching heat. He held himself there, shuddering, feeling her inner walls continue to pulse and flutter around his spurting cock, drawing out every last drop, the water washing over them both, diluting nothing.
They stayed locked together, breathing ragged, steam swirling. Tim rested his forehead against the wet tile next to hers, the pounding water the only sound for a moment besides their gasps. His mind was blissfully, terrifyingly blank. Empty. Sated and hollow at the same time.
Maddy slowly straightened, pushing back against him for one last moment before he softened and slipped out. She turned, a satisfied, almost lazy smile on her face, and reached for the soap. "See?" she said, lathering her hands and beginning to smooth them over his chest, her touch now languid, proprietary. "Told you water fixes everything." Her eyes met his, holding that unnerving intensity. "Where was your head at before, Tim? Hmm?" Her soapy hand slid lower, trailing down his stomach, brushing over his spent cock. "Because it better be right here now."
Maddy’s soapy hand lingered possessively low on his abdomen, the threat in her tone as palpable as the steam clinging to his skin. Tim met her unnerving green gaze, the heat in them far more intense than the water pounding his back. His mind flickered back to the bedroom, the sticky aftermath, the buzzing phone, Lily’s expectant face in his memory – a chaotic jumble instantly vaporized by the sheer physical demand radiating from the young woman currently tracing patterns above his spent cock. "Right here," he managed, his voice rough, the words tasting like surrender. He couldn't fight this pull, this obliterating heat.
"Good answer," she murmured, her smile sharp. Her hand slid lower, fingers wrapping firmly around his softening length, not asking, taking. She began to stroke him slowly, deliberately, the soap making her grip slick and demanding, ignoring the water cascading over her wrist. "Shame to let all this hot water go to waste." Her thumb pressed hard just beneath the head, a jolt of sensation shooting through him despite his exhaustion. "Think you've got one more in you, big guy? For me?" Her other hand slid around his hip, fingers probing, finding his ass, squeezing possessively.
He groaned, a sound that started as protest but twisted into something else as her skilled fingers worked him, coaxing blood back into weary flesh. The friction, the pressure, the sheer audacity of her demand after the brutal fucking against the tiles – it was overwhelming. He felt himself responding, thickening against his will, a traitorous twitch beneath her relentless touch. "Christ, Maddy... you're fucking insatiable," he breathed, leaning his head back against the cool tile, closing his eyes against the steam and her intense stare.
"Like you're complaining?" she retorted, her laugh low and throaty. She pumped him faster now, her grip tightening, the soap creating a slick, obscene slide. "Feels like you're more than half-way there already." She leaned in, biting his earlobe, her breath hot and damp. "Want you inside me again. Now. While you're still hard from this." Her free hand reached between her own legs, fingers disappearing, her gasp sharp against his ear. "Fuck, I'm soaked. Still dripping you into me from before. Want you to feel how wet you make me. Again."
The raw, filthy confession, combined with the visual of her touching herself just inches away, the feel of her hand milking his cock back to rigid fullness, obliterated the last shreds of his resistance. Need, dark and urgent, surged through him, burning away thought. He grabbed her hip, fingers digging in, spinning her roughly to face the wall again. "Hands on the tile," he growled, his voice unrecognizable, thick with renewed desire.
She obeyed instantly, bracing herself, arching her back, presenting herself. He didn't hesitate. He guided his throbbing cock, now fully hard and aching, to her glistening entrance, slick with her own arousal and the remnants of soap and water. With one brutal thrust, no finesse, just raw need, he sheathed himself to the hilt inside her tight, clutching heat. Her cry was a strangled scream, echoing off the tiles, swallowed by the roar of the shower. Her inner muscles clamped down, a scorching, wet vice around his invading length.
"Fuck! Yes! Like that! Harder, daddy! Fucking ruin me!" Her voice was a ragged command, muffled against her arm where she’d buried her face against the tile. He obliged, setting a punishing pace immediately. Short, savage thrusts, pulling back just enough to feel the exquisite drag, then slamming home with a force that drove her forward, her breasts flattening against the wet glass. The sound was obscene: the relentless slap of wet skin on skin, the guttural groans torn from his chest, her high-pitched cries, the constant rush of water.
He gripped her hips like handles, anchoring himself, pistoning into her with desperate abandon. His knuckles were white. Her cunt was molten silk, gripping him, sucking him deeper with every plunge. He leaned over her, pressing his sweat-and-water-slicked chest against her back, his mouth finding the tender skin of her shoulder, biting, sucking, marking her anew. His hand snaked around, fingers finding her swollen clit, already hard and desperate. He rubbed it in rough, tight circles, matching the brutal rhythm of his thrusts.
She shattered instantly. A raw, animalistic scream ripped from her throat as her body convulsed, her inner walls clenching in violent, rhythmic spasms around his pounding cock. "OhgodohgodFUCKYES! TIM!" Her legs trembled violently, almost buckling. The intense pressure, the way her cunt milked him, pulled his own climax from him with terrifying force. He buried himself impossibly deep, grinding against her ass as he erupted, hot jets of cum pumping into her pulsing depths, his roar mingling with her fading cries. He held himself there, shuddering, every muscle locked, feeling her continued tremors, the water sluicing over their joined, trembling forms.
Slowly, the world swam back. The roar of the water. The steam. The ache in his hips. The pounding of his heart against his ribs. He softened inside her, slipping free with a final, wet sound. He staggered back a step, bracing himself against the opposite wall, sucking in deep, ragged breaths, water streaming down his face. Maddy slowly turned, leaning heavily against the glass door, her chest heaving, eyes glazed, a look of sated triumph mixed with utter exhaustion on her flushed face.
She pushed wet hair from her forehead, giving him a slow, lazy smile that didn't reach her still-bright eyes. "Told you," she breathed, her voice a husky rasp. "Knew you had one more." She reached out, trailing a finger down his chest. "Water definitely fixes everything." Before he could form a coherent thought, before the dread, the crushing weight of the world outside this glass box could fully resettle, her gaze sharpened. "Now... where were we?"
The muffled, insistent buzzing of his phone echoed from the bedroom again. Louder this time. Angrier. Tim flinched, the sound a physical blow shattering the post-coital haze. He turned off the water. The sudden silence was deafening, broken only by the dripping faucet and that relentless electronic hum. Maddy’s triumphant smile froze, then twisted into something colder, sharper. She stepped out of the shower, dripping, and grabbed a towel with deliberate slowness, her eyes never leaving his. "Ignore it," she stated, her voice flat, a command laced with steel. She wrapped the towel around herself, but made no move to leave. She stood there, blocking the door, water beading on her skin, her expression daring him to choose. The phone buzzed again. And again. The sound seemed to vibrate in his bones. Her eyes narrowed. "It can wait."