He sweeps me into a fierce kiss that I respond to with every pulse raging through me. I pull at his hair, so lost in him, so lost in the pounding of the water on our bodies as his mouth plunders mine.

I’m nothing but a curl of steam that’s dissipating moment by carnal moment, formless and desperate. He parts my lips with his tongue, entering me so slowly and seductively that I go weak, clutching at him. My blood is hot, crashing through me, destroying me.

Dizzy for him, helpless for him…

He fists a bunch of my hair, then pulls me back from his lips. My mouth is burning, throbbing for more.

“Tell me why you followed me here, Red,” he whispers roughly.

“You already know.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

At his demanding tone, I feel my pussy go humid. My clit beats for his touch. Water drenches my bra and panties, leaving next to nothing between him and me.

I look into his deep, dark eyes. “I came back here because I want…”

The words burn away in my throat. Even now, I’m shy, not used to asking for something I want so badly.

He slowly runs his fingertips up my waist, and I squirm as my pussy begs for him to move downward instead, to touch me there, then fuck me senseless.

“What do you want?” he asks.

I bite my lip when he gets to my bra. His hungry gaze is on my full breasts, and I look down to see the thin, white cotton plastered to my pink, peaked nipples. Nothing is left to the imagination, and the sight arouses me even more.

“I want,” I finally say, “you to fuck me.”

“When?”

He’s teasing me.

“Now,” I say. “Fuck me now.”

His smirk is arrogant. “I’m inclined to make you wait a little. To make you beg for it.”

He drags his thumb around my nipple, and I press my nails into his brawny arms.

Then out of nowhere he swings me until my back is to the wall, and I vaguely see water from the open shower door spraying over my clothes that litter the floor. Owen hasn’t noticed the mess. Or maybe he’s too damned busy to care.

Maybe he likes the disorganization I constantly bring into his perfectly orderly world…

He expertly undoes the back clasp of my bra, then throws it in back of him, out of the shower. He’s adding to the damp clutter on the floor. As he slides his palms over my heavy breasts, I moan. He kneads them, and I raise my arms over my head, luxuriating in the thrills that are electrifying every part of me.

“Shit,” he murmurs. “Do you know how fucking hot you are with these tits? I think my dirty little girl really does know, and she came back here because she knew I can’t get my mind off them. She knew I wanted to fuck her.”

“Yes.”

His fondling is making me insane. I want him to play with me like this—almost rough, definitely ready, slow and steady—but there’s a sharp need that’s growing in my core, and it’s not going to stay quiet for long. It’s building into a low inner cry, threatening to become a scream if he doesn’t fill me up with his cock soon.

As the breadth of his body shields me, water pelts off of his skin. He coasts a hand down my stomach, over my belly. When he dips his fingers into my soaked panties, I rise to my tiptoes on a wave of passion. At the same time he presses his mouth to mine, then strokes his tongue inside. I kiss him back, long and slow as he glides his finger between my slick folds. I move my legs apart, silently asking him to keep rubbing me like this.

And he does, lazily ravishing my mouth with his tongue, maddeningly stroking my pussy with his expert finger. I start to slide down the wall, but his muscular arm catches me.

He breaks the kiss, his breathing strained as he looks down at me. His gaze is on fire as he begins to work my clit, drawing his finger around it, then pressing just above it to a sensitive spot I never knew I had. The pressure brings a languid, fervent moan out of me.

A plea.

A needful invitation to hurry up before I explode.

Desire is fluttering around inside of me now like static—a hint of a coming orgasm, a waning, then a surge that almost gets me over the top once again but not quite…

“What do you want now?” he asks while still rubbing me with his fingers.

“Anything.”

“There’s something you came back here for, and it isn’t just anything. Tell me again.”

He reminds me by easing the tip of his finger into my opening, and I suck in a breath.

“Is that what you want?” he asks. “Tell me if I’m right.”

“Almost right. But more. I want more than that.” Shivers are starting to consume me. The static gathers in my belly, erotic energy that’s growing into something that’ll be huge, wet, rapturous.

I think he likes hearing me nearly plead for him to fuck me. Through my half-closed eyes, I see the volatile heat in his gaze. He wants me as much as I want him, and in this moment, I know he’d do anything to have me.

But he’s in no hurry. Net yet.

He pulls off my panties, then throws them out of the shower. I think he also likes creating that mess outside, almost as if getting everything dirty is foreplay in itself: rules being broken, a rebellion that only he understands.

Now I’m absolutely bared to him, and he presses his naked, wet, glistening hard body to mine. I bite my lip, feeling every muscle in his chest against me, his belly, his thighs. His semi-erect cock prods my pussy, and I groan for him as he pushes his length up against me but not into me.

With painful slowness, he kisses my lips, lingering until a swarm of lust buzzes through me. He kisses me behind my ear, and I hold back another turned-on squeal. He trails more kisses down my neck, my collarbone, my chest, and by the time he gets to my breast, I’m a mass of whirring turmoil, my hands in his hair again, imploring him to keep going.

He licks my nipple, then plays with the distended nub while his hands reach behind me to cup my bottom. Sucking off of my breast, he brings me forward, and I lift one of my legs to wrap it around him as his tip nudges my sex.

This is a game to him: See how far he can push his dirty little girl. Frustration rages through me, even as he turns me around so that my chest presses to the wall, my palms flat against it. My clit jerks in wild response. I can’t tell if it’s the hammering water that’s gotten me so wet or if that’s all me, but I’m ready.

So ready.

He drags his mouth down every inch of my back, taking his time, pushing and pushing me as if seeing how far I’ll go until I break. I claw against the wall as he arrives at my bottom, his teeth gently nipping my flesh at the curve of my ass as I flinch with every wicked kiss.

Then I feel him stand up. I feel his cock slide between my legs, and I haul in a tight breath. This is the most brutal tease of all.

Faintly, I remember the last time we had sex and how he was so disturbed in the end because he didn’t use a condom. Is he going to stop us cold to get one?

I’ll be damned if I won’t feel every bit of him inside me, and I open my legs wider, wiggling my rear against him, encouraging him to push inside me with that long, firm cock. With a mean laugh, he slides through my pussy folds but not fully into me.

“Are you trying to get me even harder?” he asks.

I’m dying at the feel of his cock right there, enveloped by my juiced lips. I wiggle some more, but he doesn’t give in to me.

“Can you get harder?” I breathe.

As if to show me he damned well can, he pulls me away from the wall and down to the floor until he’s on his back with me on top of him. The water pummels my back, heightening the urgency I’m beginning to feel inside.

Pounding, demanding, needing…

He palms my breasts, squeezing them. Then, with an intense gaze, he brings my tits down to his cock.

What is he doing?

My pulse clamors, echoing in my clit, as I let him slide his shaft into my cleavage. Then he shows me what he wants, moving me up and down, using my breasts to stroke him.

Dirty. Oh, this is dirtier than I ever imagined, and I love it.

I love the feel of him slipping through the insides of my sensitive tits, I love that I’m doing something I never dreamed of in all my hottest fantasies. I love that he’s getting harder and harder with every friction-wet rub.

I love that I’m doing that to him.

As my hair covers my face and brushes his belly every time he guides me to stroke down on him, a primal growl takes him over. Without knowing what to do next, I put my hands over his to squeeze my breasts together. He increases the pace.

He’s about to come—I can feel it.

“Fuck…” he says.

My pussy throbs harder, and I think I can even feel his cock pulsing against my tits, close to exploding. My own approaching orgasm responds, beating inside me, vibrating to get out.

He growls, and before I can finish him off with my breasts, he grabs me by the hips, pulling me up to him and sliding his cock into me.

Stunned, I inhale sharply. The sensation of him filling me up rocks me hard, and I sway on top of him before he grips my hips more firmly and leads me up and down his erection.

The water pounds and pounds me, seeming to get faster with every second. He works me on top of him with a rhythm that gets more feverish by the moment, driving into me, fucking me like I want to be fucked.

When he comes, it’s with a shredded series of grunts as he rams up and up into me with the force of his climax and the blasts of his cum. I only hold onto his arms, my head going fuzzy with my own fierce storm—raindrops hammering my skin with sharp pinpricks of heat, the erotic needles piercing me through and through until I’m nearly out of my mind.

He presses my clit, helping me to get off. “Come for me, you dirty little girl…”

The delightful pressure, the storm inside me, the way he talks to me—it’s all too much, and with a slap of thunderous force, I combust for him, then fall to his chest, panting, scratching, knowing it’s not over.

In succession, more climaxes shake me.

I don’t remember anything else, not until I finally breathe again. Not until I feel the water still pattering on my back, drowning me as I gasp for one more tight breath, then relax.

Owen holds me to him, playing with my hair in a gesture that touches me, makes me happier than I’ve ever been. Then it dawns on me that we did it without being under contract, that we actually had sex for fun, enjoyment, mutual pleasure. There was nothing transactional about it.

Is he thinking the same thing?

And then he whispers in my ear. “Go to my bed, Red.”

I hold my breath, wondering if I was wrong about him. If he actually wants me no matter what.

Wondering who’s going to clean up the mess after my month with him is up.