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He nodded, then dropped a kiss on my mouth and cradled my face. “If you could know how I felt when I saw your face. Fuck, that was awful.”
“For me, too,” I said, swallowing back the remembered pain. Although he had explained the gist of why he’d been there, the shock was still fresh.
He gripped my chin. “I would never do that to you. Never,” he vowed, then slammed his mouth down on mine, pulling all my thoughts away from the painful scene in the club and on the hard body rubbing against mine.
All too soon, we were a tangle of arms, pulling, rubbing, stroking all over each other’s bodies, desperate for each other.
“I need to fuck you, Emmy, right fucking now,” Ivan gritted out as he slid his fingers between my legs, thrusting two inside as his thumb aggressively stroked my clit.
My head fell back as I groaned. “Yes, please, yes…” I encouraged.
He paused, frowning. “Are you sure?”
“Yes!” I nearly screamed.
He grabbed me under my thighs and backed me against the wall of the shower. My legs immediately wrapped around his waist as he reached down to line the big head of his cock with the wet opening of my pussy.
I gripped his shoulders. “What about—?”
He looked me in the eye. “No, nothing between us. Ever,” he said harshly and thrust his hips forward, burying himself completely inside of me. I gasped at the heavy fullness, the twinge of pain at his entry. This was only the second time I’d had sex and my body made me fully aware of that fact.
“You okay?” he asked, reaching down and rapidly stroking my clit, obviously reading the pain on my face. He leaned down and put his mouth around my stiff nipple, sucking deeply, then biting lightly. The aggressive actions of his mouth combined with his rough, knowing touch between my legs had me squirming restlessly against him. I tightened my legs around his waist, urging his hips to move faster.
“Fuck yes, Emmy, keep fucking moving like that,” he groaned in my ear, his voice barely audible above the sounds of our wet skin slapping together.
“Oh my god…please…please,” I begged, but had no idea what I was asking for. More? Harder? Faster? Yes, yes, yes.
It wasn’t long before he slid his hands under my ass and his hips started thrusting with an almost manic rhythm, as if he was trying to shove himself as deeply inside of me as possible.
I was so close, the wet friction of his body against my clit keeping me on a razor’s edge. As if sensing how close I was, his mouth dropped to the juncture of my neck and shoulder and he sank his teeth into the sensitive skin. The burst of pleasure pain catapulted me into climax as my body tightened around him in an almost unbearable euphoria.
Ivan shouted out a groan of ecstasy as I continued to bear down on him. “Jesus Christ…Fuck, Emmy, you feel…fuck,” he said insensibly, slamming his hips against me with such force I thought he’d put me through the shower wall. After a short series of savage thrusts, his cock jerked, filling me with his cum as he shuddered against me.
He buried his head against my shoulder, panting heavily as he tried to regain his breathing. His arms were like twin vices, clamping me against him as if an army might come and try to rip me from his arms.
I felt the tell-tale signs that we were running out of hot water, but our bodies were glued together and the thought of separating from him caused a physical ache. Unfortunately, Ivan had a faster reaction to the cooling water.
“Fuck,” he grunted, removing my legs from around his waist. “We haven’t even showered yet,” he grumbled, reaching for the soap and rubbing it briskly down my body. I stared at him dumbly as he efficiently soaped me up and thrust me under the lukewarm water. When he started to put the soap in my hair, I snapped out of my daze and grabbed his wrist.
“Are you crazy?” I asked, reaching for my own shampoo bottle, which he plucked out of my hand.
He shrugged. “Soap is soap.”
I shook my head, feeling my body melt as his fingers massaged my scalp. “That is absolutely not true. Using soap in my hair would leave it a tangled, dried out mess.”
He repeated the process with my conditioner, after I handed it to him with clear instructions to only put it on the ends of my hair. He stared at me as if my routine was ridiculously over complicated but still complied.
“I kind of liked the idea of you smelling like me,” he murmured, turning my hair toward the water’s spray. When my hair was conditioner free, he quickly ran the soap over his body and hair in several hasty, efficient moves, then swiftly rinsed himself as I stared at him, digesting his softly spoken, but surprisingly sentimental words.
“My skin will smell like you,” I said, stepping toward him and landing a soft kiss on his mouth.
He shot me a mischievous smile, so foreign looking on his face, and turned off the water. “Now that I think of it, I have other ways to make you smell like me. Much more enjoyable than using my soap.”
I rolled my eyes but found this light-hearted version of Ivan enchanting. We dried off using the same towel, which was pretty wet by the time Ivan got it. “I really need to buy you a bunch of stuff for your bathroom. Shampoo, two towels, maybe some shower gel.”
He shrugged again. “I’ve never needed anything more than this.”
There was something sad about the spartan way he lived. I knew he was raised wealthy, based on things Katya mentioned about her childhood, but there was something about Ivan that made it feel like he was always in survival mode. I wanted to ask more about him, his childhood, his life while he was missing, but figured we’d had enough trauma for one day.
