Chapter 8: The Aftermath
The hot water sluiced over them, washing away the last traces of the night, the scent of lavender soap merging with the lingering musk of sex on their skin. Jack leaned back against the cool, slick tiles of the shower wall, his arms around Lois as she rested her head on his chest. The steady beat of his heart under her ear was a familiar, comforting rhythm.
“Well,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “That was a night.”
Lois tilted her head back, water beading on her lashes. “It was, wasn’t it?” Her smile was soft, but her eyes held a sharp, calculating light he knew well. It was the look she got when rearranging the store’s inventory or planning a surprise trip. A look of strategy.
She pushed herself up, her hands flat on his chest, and kissed him. It was deep and searching, her tongue sweeping into his mouth as if tasting for any residual doubt. When she broke away, she was breathing harder. “You were incredible. The way you took me at the end… God, Jack.”
“You started it,” he said, a grin tugging at his lips. “Licking Darlene off me like that. I nearly came right then.”
“I know.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “I wanted to. I wanted to taste her on you. I wanted to know what it was like for you.” Her hands slid down his chest, over his stomach, her fingers tracing the line of hair that led downward. “And I liked it.”
Her hand closed around his cock, which was already thickening under her touch. The hot water cascaded over her shoulders, streaming between her breasts. She guided him, turning them both until his back was against the wall again. Then she rose up on her toes, her body aligning with his, and sank down onto him in one fluid, breathtaking motion.
“Fuck,” Jack gasped, his head thudding back against the tile. The water made the slide easier, impossibly slick, her cunt a hot, tight fist around him.
She began to move, a slow, rocking grind of her hips that was pure torture. Her eyes were locked on his, dark and unblinking. The steam thickened around them, fogging the glass doors, enclosing them in a private, swirling world.
“I’ve been thinking,” she breathed, her voice husky with effort and desire. Her nails dug into his shoulders for leverage as she picked up the pace, her thighs working, her body slapping against his with a wet rhythm that echoed in the tiled enclosure.
“About what?” he managed to grunt, his hands gripping her hips, helping her piston up and down on his shaft.
“About next week.” Her words came in sharp bursts, punctuated by her movements. “I want… to watch you… fuck Darlene again.”
Jack’s rhythm faltered. He stared at her, trying to read her face through the steam and the pleasure. “What?”
“I’m serious.” She leaned in, her lips against his ear, her voice a raw, hot whisper. “I want to see it. I want to see you buried in that pretty little accountant. I want to watch your ass flex as you pump into her. I want to hear the sounds she makes.”
Her words were a lightning strike, a direct line to his groin. His cock swelled even larger inside her, and a guttural groan was torn from his throat. He drove up into her, meeting her thrust for thrust, the water splashing around them.
“Jesus, Lois,” he panted.
“Tell me you want to,” she demanded, her gaze fierce. “Tell me you want to fuck her while I watch.”
“Yes,” he hissed, the admission freeing something in him. “God, yes, I do.”
A triumphant, wicked smile spread across her face. “Good.” She changed her angle, riding him harder, deeper, taking him to the hilt with every stroke. “Because I’m going to be right there. And when you’re done with her… when you’ve filled her up…” She moaned, her own orgasm building, her internal muscles fluttering around him. “You’re going to come over to me… and you’re going to tell me all about it… while you’re fucking me with her juices still on your cock.”
The image was too much. It was filthy, explicit, and it shattered the last of his control. With a roar that was swallowed by the shower’s spray, he came, his release pumping into her in hot, pulsing jets. His body shuddered, his legs buckling, held upright only by the wall and her fierce embrace.
Lois cried out, her own climax crashing over her, her body milking him through the last waves of his own. She collapsed against him, spent and breathing in ragged, open-mouthed gasps.
They stood like that for a long time, under the streaming water, clinging to each other as the steam began to slowly clear. Jack’s mind, usually a whirlwind of analysis and second-guessing, was quiet. There was only the heat, the water, and the weight of his wife in his arms.
Finally, Lois pushed her wet hair back from her face and looked at him, her expression now soft, sated, and utterly content. She reached up and turned off the water.
The sudden silence was profound.
She stepped out onto the plush bath mat, grabbing a large, fluffy towel. She handed it to him, then began to dry herself with another.
“So,” she said, her voice casual, as if they’d just discussed what to have for dinner. “Next Friday, then? I’ll call Darlene in the morning.”