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His deep chuckle wrapped around me, pooling low.

“Then let’s change that. Deeper, Graciella. Fuck yourself like it’s my cock stretchin’ you. God, you’re so fucking gorgeous. It’s hard not to come just lookin’ at you like this.”

He squeezed his base, clearly holding back, veins in his forearm straining.

My inner walls clenched at his words, pleasure building. The wet sounds of my fingers plunging in and out mixed with his grunts and the slap of his hand.

“Josh,” I whimpered, every part of my skin on fire. Head swirling with a lusty fog as thick as the steam rolling off the shower. “I’m gonna c⁠—”

“No. I want more from you. I want to watch you squirm, so you better slow those fucking fingers,” he commanded, his own hand easing off, edging us both. His dominance sent shivers through me.

Maybe I didn’t mind a man telling me what to do.

“Fuck you, Monroe,” I said, but slowed my pace, teasing my clit. The ache was building to a desperate throb.

“Always such a brat.” He chuckled, and a droplet rolled off the tip of his pec, landing on his taut abs before gliding down the channeled groove leading to his cock.

Fuck did I want to be that droplet.

“Eyes up here, Trouble.” My gaze snapped from where he’d done another languid pull, up to the sinful smirk spread out on his face. His eyes were so heated and dark that they reminded me of the ocean. “Atta’ girl. You’re so good for me, huh? Tell me you’re my good girl.”

“I’m your good girl.”

The words slipped out as if I were possessed.

Wanting to satisfy him. Needing to.

“That’s right, Graciella. You’re all mine, even if I can’t touch you,” he drawled, voice heavy with lust.

My clit ached for his touch, and my chest pressed forward, like there was an invisible string pulling me toward him.

“Kneel and take your shirt off,” he ordered, voice strained.

I dropped to my knees on the bath mat in front of him, the fabric soft against my skin, yanking my shirt off to expose my bra. Fingers still buried deep, I rubbed frantically now, chasing release.

“So bossy,” I teased, inner thoughts screaming for more of his commands, his touch—his everything.

“You like it.” He groaned, jerking faster, water splashing as his hips thrust into his fist. “Come for me. Let me hear you.”

My orgasm hit hard, crashing through me, pussy pulsing around my fingers, his name falling from my tongue. The scent of my release was heady and raw.

Monroe shoved the shower door open.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he groaned as spurts of cum landed on my chest, sticky and warm.

It was possessive and filthy.

And I fucking loved it.

Panting, he reached out and pulled me into the shower. Water plastered my bra and panties to my body.

He kissed my forehead, lips lingering, warm and reassuring. “You okay?” he asked, grabbing a washcloth and gently wiping his cum from my skin.

I nodded, coming down from my lust-filled high and straight into a spiral. “Yeah, but Monroe, we shouldn’t have don⁠—”

A kiss to my lips cut me off.

“We’ll figure this out, Graciella.” He stepped out of the shower, toweled off, and grabbed his clothes. “See you downstairs on the Draft floor soon.”