Filth in the shower

He didn’t wait for her to lead the way.

One strong arm hooked around her waist, lifting her off her feet like she weighed nothing. Elena’s back hit his chest as he carried her down the hallway, her bare feet dangling, skirt still bunched around her hips. She could feel his cock—already half-hard again—pressing against her ass with every step.

The bedroom door banged open under his shoulder.

City lights spilled through the sheer curtains, painting everything in silver and shadow. He dropped her onto the king-sized bed, the mattress bouncing under her weight. She landed on her back, blouse half-unbuttoned, breasts heaving, thighs slick and shining.

He stood at the foot of the bed, shrugging off his coat. Eyes never leaving her.

“Strip,” he said. Voice low, dangerous. “Everything but the heels.”

Elena’s fingers shook as she obeyed. Buttons popped free one by one until her blouse slid off her shoulders. Bra next—black lace that he’d already ruined earlier with rough hands. She arched to unhook it, letting it fall away, nipples tight and aching in the cool air.

Skirt unzipped and kicked aside.

Now just the heels. And his come drying on her inner thighs.

He undressed slower. Shirt peeled off to reveal a chest dusted with dark hair, abs cut sharp enough to cut glass. Belt unbuckled with deliberate menace. Slacks dropped. No underwear.

His cock jutted heavy and thick, veins pulsing, the head already wet.

He crawled onto the bed like a predator, knees forcing her thighs wider. One hand wrapped around her throat—not squeezing, just holding. Owning.

“Safe word?” he asked, thumb stroking her pulse point.

She swallowed against his palm. “Red.”

“Good girl.”

Then he flipped her onto her stomach in one brutal motion.

Ass up, face down in the pillows.

She heard the nightstand drawer yank open—how the fuck did he know where—then the click of a bottle cap. Cool lube drizzled down the crack of her ass, making her gasp.

One thick finger circled her tight hole, pressing in slow but relentless. She whimpered, pushing back instinctively.

“Relax,” he growled. “You’re taking my cock here tonight.”

Another finger joined the first, scissoring, stretching. The burn was intense, filthy, perfect. She moaned into the sheets, hips rocking, pussy clenching around nothing.

When he added a third finger, she was begging—slurred, desperate pleas for more.

He pulled out abruptly. Replaced fingers with the blunt head of his cock.

“Push back on me. Take it like the dirty little slut you are.”

She did.

Inch by agonizing inch, he sank into her ass. The stretch burned so good she saw stars, her whole body trembling as he bottomed out, balls pressed tight against her dripping pussy.

He gave her only a second to adjust before he started moving—slow, deep thrusts that turned harder, faster, until the headboard slammed against the wall in a relentless rhythm.

One hand fisted in her hair, yanking her head back. The other snaked under her to rub her clit in vicious circles.

“You love this, don’t you?” he snarled, hips pounding. “Love being stuffed full of stranger cock in both holes tonight. My come still leaking out of your cunt while I fuck your ass raw.”

“Yes—fuck—yes—” she sobbed, tears of overwhelming pleasure streaking her cheeks.

He reached blindly for something on the nightstand—her vibrator, the big wand she kept hidden. How the hell—

The buzz filled the room as he pressed it hard against her clit without warning.

She screamed.

Orgasm detonated instantly—violent, squirting, soaking the sheets beneath her as her ass clenched rhythmically around his cock.

He groaned like he was dying, thrusts turning savage as he chased his own release. Pulled out at the last second, flipped her over, and came hard across her tits and stomach—thick, hot ropes painting her skin while she was still shaking from aftershocks.

Spent, he collapsed beside her, chest heaving.

After a long moment, he dragged a finger through the mess on her breasts, bringing it to her lips.

She sucked it clean without hesitation, eyes locked on his.

He smirked, voice rough.

“Round two in the shower. I want to watch you finger that pretty pussy while I fuck your mouth.”

Elena’s spent body somehow found the energy to clench in anticipation.

She was already nodding.

The shower ran scalding hot, steam filling the bathroom until the mirrors fogged and the air felt thick enough to taste.

He had her pinned against the tiled wall, water sluicing over both of them, washing away sweat and come but doing nothing to cool the heat between them.

Elena was on her knees again, water streaming down her face, mouth stretched wide around his cock. He held her hair in a tight fist, guiding her rhythm—slow, deep thrusts that hit the back of her throat until she gagged, tears mixing with the shower spray.

“Look at you,” he rasped, voice rough with lust. “Choking on my dick like you were made for it.”

She moaned around him, the vibration making his hips jerk. One of her hands braced against his thigh; the other was buried between her own legs, fingers pumping frantically into her swollen pussy.

He pulled out suddenly, hauling her up by the arms and spinning her to face the wall. Bent her over, kicked her legs wider.

No warning.

He drove into her cunt in one brutal stroke, the angle perfect, hitting that spot inside that made her vision white out. Water pounded against her back as he fucked her hard and fast, one hand gripping her throat from behind, the other reaching around to pinch and twist her clit.

“Come,” he ordered, teeth scraping her shoulder. “Come all over my cock one last time before I fill you again.”

She shattered—screaming his name? No, she still didn’t know it. Just a broken cry as her body convulsed, pussy clamping down in rhythmic pulses that dragged him over the edge with her.

He thrust deep and stayed there, pumping her full once more, groaning low and filthy against her ear.

They stayed locked together under the spray until the water began to cool.

Eventually, he pulled out, turned her gently, and kissed her—slow this time. Almost tender. Tongues sliding lazy and satisfied.

He washed her after that. Thorough hands soaping her breasts, between her legs, down her thighs. She returned the favor, exploring the hard lines of his body until they were both clean and trembling again—but spent.

Towels. Bed.

They collapsed naked between the sheets, limbs tangled, city lights flickering across their skin.

His fingers traced idle patterns on her hip.

“Still don’t know your name,” she murmured, half-asleep.

“Don’t need it,” he whispered back, lips brushing her temple. “This was perfect exactly like it was.”

She smiled into his chest.

When she woke hours later, dawn creeping through the curtains, the bed was empty. Sheets cool beside her.

No note. No number.

Just the delicious ache between her thighs, faint bruises on her hips, and the memory of the wildest night of her life.

On the nightstand lay her lace panties—folded neatly, still carrying his scent.

She pressed them to her face, inhaled deeply, and smiled.