The hot water feels like heaven as it streams down my back, but an even better feeling is my face between Demi's legs. With one of the smallest showers known to man, we had to be inventive. Her one leg is propped up on the bench, her back is flat against the wall with one hand fisted in my hair.

“Don't stop,” she cries out right when I flatten my tongue and suck her clit into my mouth.

My scalp burns from her pulls on my hair, but that only spurs me on to make this experience that much more groundbreaking. Taking one hand off her thigh, I push a finger in and out of her in a quick motion.

“Ohh,” she moans.

I look up from between her legs to find her eyes closed. Hopefully all that shit her mother is putting her through is long forgotten.

My tongue twirls her clit around in my mouth, and I plunge a second finger inside of her.

Her body rises and then falls from surprise and her hand moves off my hair, reaching and grasping for anything to hang on to. She finds a soap dish, her knuckles white from gripping it so tight, and I smile up over her mound at her.

Now is not the time to make this semi-climatic so I focus back on my goal, swinging her leg over my shoulder so both my hands are free, I slither my free hand up her ribcage until it finds her tit. Rolling her nipple between my thumb and forefinger is her undoing. She hits the tile wall, grinding into my mouth and hand, moans and groans tumbling from her lips.

“Dax,” she sighs, her breathing rushed and hiccupped.

Not about to move my mouth, I keep doing what I'm doing so I don’t mess with her orgasm. One minute later, the soap dish she was gripping falls to my feet and she clings to the showerhead.

“You're so fucking good.” All the tension evaporates from her stiff body.

I slow my motions to let the waves of her climax retreat, then I lower her leg to the ground, raise up and cup her cheeks and let her taste herself on my tongue. She kisses me back, her fingers weaving through my blond hair as I pull her body flush with mine.

Moments later, I draw back, resting my forehead on hers. “Payment accepted?”

She giggles, her green eyes lighting up. “Yeah. Payment definitely cleared.”

An hour later, we're getting dressed. “You wanna head to the hockey game?” Demi throws on her sweater, covering up the body I just devoured for the past hour.

“Who's playing?” I ask, bending down to put my socks on.

We haven't really been doing anything outside the bedroom and I'm a little nervous that an outing together could set us back to square one. She always seems annoyed by my humor unless—she's about to get laid—she might very well push me off a mountaintop if I gave her the chance.

“Canada and I don't remember who, but it might be fun. Competing at the end of the Classics kind of sucks, you know?”

I couldn't be in more agreement. The waiting and still training while our four other friends are done and soaking up the sights blows.

“Kind of wish I'd planned to stay back a few days,” I say, straightening my shirt.

She buttons her jeans and then sits down in front of the mirror, putting on her makeup.

I guess she's going whether I go or not. I don’t know why that bothers me. It shouldn’t.

“You still could.” She closes one eye to put liner on.

“Not really, I have to get home.”

She turns in her seat, pushing and pulling a mascara wand in and out of the tube. My dick twitches for what reason I don't know. I just blew a load.

“Is your family not coming?” she asks.

I put my shirt on, and button my pants. “No. They like to watch from home.”

Simple, right? She studies me for a minute and I try to keep my face as straight as I can. Like it's no big deal.

“Oh. I wish my mom had stayed home.”

Grabbing my jacket, I swing my arms through the sleeves. “Ah, she loves you.”

She finishes putting on her mascara, stands and goes to the dresser. Fishing out a pair of socks, she sits back down, pulling her legs to her chest. I smile at her toenails that are painted into little American flags.

“I meant to tell you, nice toes.”

A soft blush creeps up her neck. “Thanks. They'll be ruined by the end of the Classics, but I do love them.” She wiggles them before covering the masterpieces with her socks.

I pull up the information for the game on my phone. “Canada versus Sweden.”

She looks up to me for a second, puzzled.

“The hockey game.”

She shakes her head and smiles. “Sorry, my mind kind of drifted there for a second.”

Grabbing her boots, she steps into them and then pulls her coat from the hanger. “You game?”

I nod. What else am I gonna do tonight?

“As long as we don't sit by Skylar and Beckett, I'm cool.”

She shoots me that puzzled look once more. “Let's go then.”

I open her door and hold my hand out for her to go first.

“Such a gentleman.”

“Don't get too used to it.”

She giggles and falls into step with me. “I’d never expect anything from you, Dax, don’t worry.”

Her words hit me, right in the fucking gut. I take a break from putting my gloves on to cover my stomach with one hand. What the hell was that?