He keeps kissing my jaw, my neck, my shoulder, like he's got all the time in the world to ruin me—and he does. His fingers glide slick and slow between my legs, circling and pressing until I’m shaking under him, barely able to breathe. Every time I whimper, hepraisesme. Quietly. Lazily. Like I’m doing this forhispleasure.
“Look at you,” he murmurs against my throat, voice all rough. “Falling apart just from my hands. My pretty little husband…”
I shudder. My hands are gripping the bench now, knuckles white, legs spread so wide I’m going to pull something. The steam makes everything worse—hotter, heavier—like I’m suffocating on him. I feel slippery,feral, like I could come just from this. From the slow way his thumb rolls against my rim. From the obscene rhythm of his other hand. From the way his mouth moves against my skin like a fucking curse.
“Cap,” I gasp. “Please—please, I—”
He doesn’t let me finish. He shifts just enough to press deeper, fingers curling until he finds thatspotinside me, and my visionblacks outat the edges. My whole bodyjerks.
“Right there, huh?” he breathes, low and proud.
I nod frantically, back arching, and he does it again, until I’m gone. Until I’m moaning like a fucking pornstar and leaking all over his hand, my thighs shaking, my brain melted to steam. It’stoo much, and notenough, and I can’t stop begging, whispering broken things likethank youandyoursandmorelike I’ve lost every last ounce of pride I had left.
Then Iscream—or Itryto—but it comes out as this helpless, guttural sob when I finally come all over his hand, my body snapping taut like a live wire.
He laughs smug as hell.“Good boy,” he whispers.
I can barely stay on the damn bench, slick with sweat and slicker between my thighs, and Damian is still going. He keeps his fingers buried deep and starts rubbing slow, devastating circles against that spot inside me that makes my brain go blank. My head tips back, a whine scraping out of my throat as my entire body jerks under him. I’m ruined.Gone. Words don’t work anymore. Only sounds. High, desperate, filthy little moans that I couldn’t stop even if I tried.
And he eats them up. “Take me to a couple’s massage again, pup…” Damian growls near my ear, every word dripping with threat and filth. “See what happens.”
I sob. My thighs squeeze around his wrist, but I don’t stop him. Every part of me is too busyclenchingandthrobbingand spiraling apart, and his fingers—fuck, his fingers—just keep teasing that spot like he’s trying to ruin it for anyone else forever. I’m already overstimmed. Already wrecked. But he wants more.
I claw at his back, trying to pull him closer, but my fingers just slip over his skin. He’s sweating too—steam curling around both of us like smoke. I pant against his throat, voice cracking with every word. “Cap—please—I’m—I’m gonna—”
“You’re gonnawhat, baby?” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of my ear while his fingers stroke me deeper, slower. “Come again? Just from my fingers like agood little husband?”
Ihowl.
The knock comes like a thunderclap—sharp, polite, and horrifying. “Excuse me,” a voice calls from the other side, muffled through the thick wood. “You should consider taking a break. We don’t recommend staying in the sauna longer than twenty minutes.”
My whole body seizes. Isqueak—yes,squeak, like a panicked little animal—and my face goes up in flames. I want to scream that we’rebusy, that we’re fine, that everything’snormal, but all that comes out is a pathetic whimper as Damian's fingersdon’t stop. Not even for a second.
If anything, hepresses deeper.
I slap a hand over my mouth, mortified, but Damian justsmirksagainst my neck andlicksa drop of sweat trailing down my throat. His tongue is hot, slow and obscene—like he’s savoring it. “Don’t be rude, pup,” he murmurs, fingers curling right against that spot that’s already pulsing. “They’re just doing their job.”
I whine behind my hand, but he doesn’t let up. His palm grinds against me while his other hand strokes low and deep, relentless and cruel in the best possible way. My body’s jerking again. My vision’sgoing. Everything’s too much. My muscles lock, every nerve screaming for release, and then—I snap andbite down on Damian’s shoulder—hard—trying to muffle the scream as I comeagain, back arched off the bench, hand slipping off my mouth as the sound tears loose anyway. It’s guttural. Raw. Fucking feral.
Damian groans like ithurt, but I feel his cock twitch against my thigh.
Sick bastard.
He presses a slow kiss to my cheek, lips warm and lingering, like he's not the reason I’m shaking like a fucking leaf. His fingers slip out just as slow, and I flinch from the aftershock, whining softly into his neck. I’m soaked—inside, outside, head spinning—and then he’s wiping me down with a towel like we’re just… cooling off. Normal. Civilized. Except my insides are jelly and my knees aren’t working.
He doesn’t give me time to recover. He grabs my wrist and hauls me off the bench. The door swings open behind us, steam curling around our ankles as we step into the cooler hallway—and I canbreatheagain. My lungs fill, the air fresh and crisp andnotmade of sin and sweat.
But my legs are fuckinguseless.I stumble, nearly face-planting into the hallway floor, and Damian catches me with an arm around my waist, smug and solid and not even winded.
“You know,” he drawls, voice like warm whiskey against the back of my ear, “for a very fast hockey player…” He pauses, just long enough to let me flinch. “…your legs give out real quick when I touch you, pup.”
I groan loud and pitiful and don’t even try to defend myself. My face is already red to the roots, my body is wrecked, and I think I left my spine back in the sauna somewhere. “Asshole,” I mutter.
Damian’s grin is downright vile—lazy, smug, the kind that says he knows exactly what he did to me and isn’t even close to sorry for it.
Back in the suite, I’m doing my best impression of someone who hasn’t just been thoroughly wrecked in sauna. Every step feels like a challenge. I’m halfway across the room, muttering curses under my breath, when a knock echoes from the door.
Damian raises an eyebrow.
