AllFreeNovel
Share Us
When I stopped masturbating to deal with his deepening thrusts, he forced my hand back to my clit and moved it over my flesh. My body felt numb and yet overstimulated, ready to explode. The harder he fucked my ass, the closer I came to orgasm. Now and again, he would hurt my nipples to make my ass clench, then, God, I was bucking back against him, finger-fucking my pussy, twitching my hips. When I squeezed around his shaft, he growled, driving deeper as I braced my forehead against the tile.
“Don’t hold back from me,” he said, fucking me so hard and deep that I was his and only his. “I want to feel you come. Come for me.”
Pain made me orgasmic, and the pain he gave was gorgeous, so I went off, gasping, shivering in ecstasy, my ass stuffed by this man who knew how to make me obey, even if he didn’t know anything else about me.
He groaned and stiffened, banging into me while he held me in place by my hips. The release felt cathartic, even if I felt dirtier than I had when I originally got in the shower. The water ran over us, baptizing our depravity.
He made a sound and pulled out of me, leaving me empty. I stood where I was, braced against the wall while he jerked open the curtain to throw away the condom. Was he angry? Was he getting out of the shower?
No.
“It’s official.” He returned and fixed me with a look. “I can’t resist fucking you. Are you ready to get out?”
I blinked at him. “I was going to wash my hair.”
“You’re in no condition to wash your fucking hair,” he said, taking in my slumping body.
“Just go away. Leave me alone.”
I couldn’t say why I had to repel him every time he gave me pleasure. Or maybe that was why I had to repel him—because he gave me pleasure. I didn’t want to fall for him, because my life didn’t have room for a man, especially one of his…size.
When I reached for the shampoo, he pushed my fingers away and took the bottle himself. We jockeyed for space as he clicked open the cap. It reminded me of the conditioner, and anal, not to mention the forceful blowjob, andoh my God, what was that about?
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He grinned. “Washing your hair, you dirty slut.”
“My hair’s thick,” I said, feeling lost. “It takes a lot of shampoo.”
“I know how to wash hair.”
His fingers slid into my blonde locks, rough but careful, massaging my scalp. Lots of shampoo, lots of lather, the steam and his body looming behind me, fleeting touches of spent cock, solid limbs, maleness… I expected him to push my face under the water again for his amusement, but he didn’t. No, he was gentle, taking his time, being careful to rinse all the lather when he was done. He opened the conditioner next, with a fitting smirk. I felt hornified and anxious, while he seemed utterly under control.
When he finished with my hair, he washed the rest of my body, including my tender asshole, then chased me from the shower, presumably to wash himself. I stood in front of the mirror, trying to make sense of what he did to me, why I felt disappointed that he wouldn’t let me wash him. I understood that large forces acted on one another, generally in the farthest reaches of space, but these intimate, personal cravings seemed suffocatingly close. One shower curtain away.
He turned off the water and his force was next to me again, helping me towel off, fondling my damp hair. I put on my glasses, which had finally unfogged.
“Once you’re dressed, we should get something to eat,” he said. “Our flight leaves at six.”
“What flight?”
“The flight to New York,” he said, giving my ass a tap. “Or were you planning to stay on this island forever?”
He turned away, like that was settled. It definitely wasn’t. “Devin?” I said.
“Yeah?”
“I don’t think I can get back on a plane.”
He stopped in the middle of his own drying duties, meeting my gaze. “You have to get back on a plane. What about the science project, New York, your new job?”
I moved past him. I had to get out of the bathroom, had to gulp some fresh air. I went to the balcony and flung open the door. Low buildings, trees, and water, so much water.
He came to stand behind me, a presence I could feel. “You’re a math person, aren’t you? You were in one near-crash. What are the chances you’ll be in another one a day later?”
“Chance is bullshit,” I said, turning on him. “Astrophysicists deal in infinite possibilities.”
“I’m as nervous as you.” He put his hands on my shoulders, forcing me to hold his gaze. “But you have to understand, what happened yesterday was a fluke, an accident. In all my years of flying—”
