Page 109 of Revenge Puck

Tits and pussies out.

Had me race them to the shower, showing off, teased me mercilessly before letting me put my hands on their bodies.

But there’s nothing performative about Juliette Kennedy.

She is seductive and sexy in an entirely different way. Quiet, unguarded, unsure of the power she yields. And somehow that makes it ten times stronger…

I take her hand, guide her to the bathroom.

The space opens up like something out of an architectural digest magazine spread—floor-to-ceiling slabs of honed limestone, pale and seamless, veined in gray. The shower itself is framed in thick glass panels. The entire enclosure feels like a floating room, all of which has been washed spotless by the cleaning crew.

Matte gold fixtures punctuate the stone.

There’s a giant rainfall showerhead mounted high above, wide enough to drench two people at once. A second, adjustable head sits seven feet high on the wall, with a row of body sprays lining the tile below it.

Built-in stone bench. Cubby with my shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. Loofahs and razors.

It’s not a shower.

It’s an experience.

I start the water so it can warm, steam already curling toward the ceiling, then grab a stack of bright white towels and set them neatly on the teak bench beside the door.

Juliette has lowered her arms, baring her breasts, hands tentatively drifting to her jeans.

I don’t breathe.

She pushes them down. Steps out of them carefully. Hooks her fingers into the slender waistband of her tiny thong.

I watch spellbound as she pushes them over her hips.

Cannot peel my eyes off the blonde patch between her thighs.

“Oh,” I mutter. “Right. Me too.”

I kick my own pants off so fast I almost lose my balance, unable to keep up, frantically fumbling like a fucking loser to rid myself of clothes and get naked.

“Are you alright?” she asks sweetly.

“Totally fine,” I say, aggressively not fine, yanking my shirt over my head and tossing it to the tile floor. “Very enthusiastic.” As if my words weren’t evidence enough, my rock-hard erection should be.

We both pretend to ignore it as we step into the shower, beneath the spray, steam rising to envelope us.

It feels so fucking good…

The water hits my shoulders first, hot and steady, then splashes against her as she steps closer. She hums happily at the warmth, instinctively pressing into me, her palms flattening against my chest.

“See?” I murmur, sliding my hands around her waist. “No concussions yet.”

Juliette tilts her face up into the rainfall head.

Water streams down her hair, along her cheeks, over her shoulders. For a second, she stands there, eyes closed, smiling like this is the simplest pleasure in the world.

And for the time we’re in here, it will be.

I pull her gently under the spray with me, tucking her against my chest. The stone beneath our feet is warm, the steam thick enough to blur the edges of everything outside this glass box.

She rests her chin between my pecs. “This is kind of perfect.”