Page 78 of Massacre Monday
In the skinny gallery is a half bath with a toilet and sink only, and a washer and dryer area on the opposite side.
Then, through a sliding paneled door, lies a bedroom bigger than I would think possible for a bus. It holds a king-size bed outfitted with thick, cozy blankets and pillows. On the far wall is another door leading into a full bathroom, complete with a walk-in shower that contains a two-seater bench. With its system of chrome nozzles and sprayers, it looks complex.
“What is this?”
“Steam shower. Get in and let’s get warm.”
It doesn’t take me a second thought to peel off my wet dress and jump in, hoping it heats quickly. Ryan strips and steps in with me, then adjusts the water and sprayers until the entire room fills with heated clouds of goodness.
“Turn around and let me wash your hair.”
My back presses to his front, and he douses my locks with a handheld showerhead. Leaning over me, he grabs a bottle of my shampoo. “Is that?—”
“Yeah. I bought the same stuff you use. Same everything.” He nods toward the sink area just outside the foggy glass door.
Again, I’m stunned into silence, especially when the pads of his fingers work my scalp with the utmost care, massaging the suds in deep, then rinsing them with a steady spray of steamy water. Every flex of his muscles as he does makes my belly flip, tingles erupting all over my skin, even though I’m overheating.
With delicate movements, he lifts my arms and washes my body with my brand of cleanser. His large hands use smooth kneading motions until I fall into a trace. In the small space, he spins me to face him, his cock slotting between my thighs. Whenhe gets to my armpits, a giggle bubbles past my lips. He squats to lift each of my legs while I balance my palms on his firm shoulders.
Something changes as he kneels in front of me. The clouds of billowy steam rising around us give me some clarity. My heart softens as I watch him and let my fingers drag through his hair slowly, gathering up the black, wet strands. The deep bass of his growl makes my insides heat as much as my skin, and I reach over his head and grab his shampoo, then work it in just as he did mine.
He stays like that, crouching before me, and I draw a sharp breath when his tongue delves out to lick my pussy. I almost can’t concentrate when he does it again, especially when he throws one of my thighs over his back and parts me with a finger. As I rinse his hair, his crystal-clear eyes scan my face and he breaks the suction on my clit to ask, “You too sore?”
I can only shake my head in response.
“Good.” Teeth tug on my sensitive tissue as he continues to hold my gaze.
Whimpering a moan, I say, “You know, when you’re like this, I think I could forgive anything.”
I feel his smile on my core, then rub myself against his chin, his nose, his mouth, riding his face and using him where I need him most. His torso shakes gently as he strokes himself. Grunts from his pleasure float over my skin.
“Y-you’re so good at this,” I say breathlessly, leaning back on the wall.
As tingles rise to impossible levels, scattering throughout my entire body, I surge with the rush of euphoria. Eyes rolling back, hands splaying out on the glass, my scream echoes off the tiles. With a hungry groan, Ryan stands abruptly and shoves his thick cock inside of me as I’m still clenching from bliss.
“Fuck, yes!” He explodes right along with me, gathering me up in his arms until my legs encircle his waist. The fullness of him stretches me to an uncomfortable ache, but soothing comfort replaces it every time my inner muscles pulse in rhythmic patterns.
He presses his lips against mine and quietly humps me with tiny movements of his hips. I’m sore, but in a good way. A way I never knew about before tonight.
Fumbling behind me, he shuts off the water and carries me to the sink, plopping me on the edge. “Let me get a towel.”
Just as delicately as he washed me, he’s even more gentle drying me, but as he does, he shakes his head rapidly, spraying me and the mirror. I hold up my hands to stop the incoming barrage, but it goes through the spread of my fingers. We both laugh, and I shove him back from me, slip off the counter, and grab the soft terry cloth.
“I don’t have clothes here,” I say, wandering into the bedroom.
He finishes drying himself and follows me. “Sure you do.” Opening a drawer in the dresser reveals it’s stocked with fancy lingerie, and practical ones, too. I gasp, checking out the rest of it all. It’smystuff, but a new copy.
“Is this why you spied on me? To fillour placewith similar things?”
“I wasn’tspying. I was learning. There’s a difference.”
I quirk an eyebrow. “What’s that?”
“Spying implies nefarious means. That the information gained is to harm the other or use it in some threatening manner.”
As I slide on a new pair of panties and a tank top for sleep, I ask, “So then, what’s the other?”
He steps into black boxer briefs and taps the end of my nose before flopping onto the bed. “I just wanted to learn everythingabout my girl. Study her. Know what she likes and doesn’t. Understand how I could be the best man for the job.”
