Page 192 of Sexting the Pakhan

I open the door. Steam hits me first, warm and thick, and then I see her through the glass. Head tipped back under the water, hair slick to her shoulders, skin flushed from heat. She turns when the door shuts, sees me, and for one second I just stare.

Her body is all the things I’ve spent years remembering badly. Full breasts. Soft stomach. thick thighs. The kind of beauty men like me are not supposed to reach for because once we do, we stop wanting anything else.

“You said shower,” she says.

My eyes move over her once, slowly. “I lied.”

Her mouth twitches despite herself. “That’s comforting.”

I strip without answering. The movement pulls at the wound, but I barely feel it over the fact that she’s watching me now too.Not shy. Not exactly. Just direct in the way women are when they already know what a man looks like hard and desperate.

When I step in, she shifts back to make room.

The shower is small.

We are not.

Her breasts brush my chest before either of us says anything, and that’s enough. My hand goes to the back of her neck, and I kiss her.

She kisses me back harder than I expect, as if she was waiting to punish me with it.

Water runs over both of us. Her hands slide up my chest, over my shoulders, into my hair. Mine go down her back, over the curve of her ass, and I drag her against me until she gasps.

“Careful,” she says against my mouth.

“With what?”

“Your leg.”

“I’m not thinking with my leg.”

That makes her laugh, and the sound does something filthy to me.

She reaches down between us and wraps her hand around my cock. The shock of it nearly folds me in half.

“Zoya.”

“What?” she asks, stroking me once, slow and wet under the water. “You want to be practical now?”

“No.”

“Good.”

She gets on her toes to kiss me again and keeps pumping my cock with that same slow, deliberate grip until I’m breathing hard into her mouth. I palm one breast, then the other, heavy and slick under the stream, and when I drag my thumb over her nipple she makes that small helpless sound again.

I bury my face against her neck for a second, then lower my mouth to her breast. She braces one hand against the tile behind her, fingers slipping in the water. I suck her nipple into my mouth and feel her whole body tighten. Her hand jerks on my cock. I do it again, harder, tongue and teeth just enough to make her arch.

“Fuck,” she whispers.

I switch to the other breast, greedy now, burying my face between them because I want her everywhere at once and I have already waited too long for every part of her. Her fingers dig into my shoulders. Her knee lifts against my hip.

I slide my hand between her thighs.

She’s already wet again.

My fingers find her pussy easily, slick even under the stream, and when I push two into her she drops her head back against the tile with a broken moan.

“That’s what I wanted,” she says.