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“Yes. To both,” I added.
“Clean towels are in the closet,” he said, waving toward the bathroom. “Call me if you need anything,” he added, giving my hip a little squeeze.
With that, I made my way into the bathroom that I found almost sterile it was so clean. And maybe that was the case. He kept it so clean in case of emergencies or when he had to treat wounds from friends and family crashing on his couch.
Bathrooms were hard to show personality with, but he at least had a couple more personal items in the drawers.
Aftershave.
An oddly wide array of different toothpastes.
Three types of floss.
Unscented lotion.
I scrubbed my makeup off with one of his washcloths, cringing at how it stained the material after, wondering if it would come out, then climbed in his shower, oddly aware of him being close by while I was naked in his shower, flipping open his bottle of body wash and taking a long sniff of it.
I’d barely managed to start washing up when the need started to build through my system once again.
I guess when you went so long without, and once you got some, it was amazing, you became the sluttiest version of yourself.
“Hey, Salvatore?” I called, the pulse of desire making me need to press my thighs together as I heard his footsteps coming toward the bathroom.
“What’s up?” he asked, moving inside, and closing the door behind him.
“I need help,” I admitted, feeling the flush on my cheeks at how brazen I was being.
I’d never really been super sexually confident. I liked the task. I was as enthusiastic as I felt comfortable being with any given partner. But I’d never really been one to initiate. And definitely never as boldly as I was doing right then.
“Help with what?” he asked, brows drawing together.
Lifting my hand, I grabbed the edge of the shower curtain, slowly sliding it back, revealing myself to him.
And if I ever had a moment of doubt about doing so, it all melted away as his head slammed back against the bathroom door and a rough, “Fuck,” escaped him.
I stood there, watching his hungry gaze slide over me for a long moment before asking, “Are you going to help me or not?”
Even over the water running and splashing off the shower floor, I could hear the little growling noise that moved through him as he reached up behind his neck and pulled off his shirt as he kicked out of his shoes.
His pants and boxer briefs were off next, but he took a second to grab a condom for his already straining cock, bringing it with him as he moved into the shower stall, backing me against the wall, and claiming my lips.
I melted into him for a moment, into the intimacy, the rush of sexual power I felt right then.
It wasn’t long, though, before my body was screaming for touch, for release, for more.
My hands moved out, running down the slope of his back to sink into his ass, pulling him closer to me as my thigh lifted, sliding up the side of his hip, opening myself up to him.
Salvatore’s teeth snagged my lower lip, pulling to the point of pain as his cock settled against my cleft—a thick, hard promise—and my hips started to rock against him, building just enough friction to start driving me up.
His hands started to roam then, too, sliding down my sides, then back up to close over my breasts, rolling my nipples into buds as I continued to rock against him, feeling that pressure build inside until it was so acute it was almost painful.
“Fuck,” Salvatore hissed, his hips rocking against me. “I need to be inside you,” he growled as my writhing got faster.
Reaching between us, he made short work of protecting us before he was grabbing my ass with both hands, yanking me up until I had no choice but to wrap my legs around his waist, pinning them there as best I could with his slippery skin.
My back slammed against the shower wall before his cock surged inside of me.
Hard.
