She shrugs, and I see a hint of tension in her brow. It’s not quite worry—she just doesn’t know what’s coming next.
“Should I go get a condom?” she asks.
“It depends,” I say. I grab her hair and force her head down so she’s bending at the waist, and her slick, soapy arse is pressed against the length of my cock. She fumbles for the handle of the open door, holding on with both hands. The mirror across from us displays us perfectly, though it’s slowly getting fogged up.
“Depends on what?” she asks, but I can tell she already knows what I have planned.
I slide my fingers between the cheeks of her arse, up and down, probing at her cunt and then further up. “This okay?” I whisper, tracing my fingers around in circles.
She nods but doesn’t say anything. I slowly push a finger in, then take it back out, making sure it gets extra slick and soapy before it goes back in. She clenches around me, and I have to breathe in deep, making sure I don’t lose it before my cock even has a chance to slip inside.
I squeeze a dollop of the body wash in my hand, my eyes meeting hers in the mirror as our features gradually fog over. I rub it along my length and then with one hand holding her hips and the other at the base of my cock, I push myself in the tightest space imaginable.
She gasps but pushes back into me to let me know I should keep going. I take it as easy as I can, my movements slow and deliberate.
“This still okay?” I murmur, hoping she’s at least getting some thrill out of it, even if it doesn’t match mine. Before she has a chance to answer, I let go of her hip and my hand slides between her legs. It’s hard to tell if she is wet from the shower or from her own arousal. I like to pretend it’s all for me.
She immediately relaxes into my fingers, her feet taking a wide stance on the slick tiles. The muscles along the length of her back smooth out, and her head hangs down limply as she gives herself to me.
“Look at yourself,” I whisper to her gruffly. I want her to look at her reflection, at us, at the juxtaposition of our bodies. The darkness and the light. “Look at me.”
She carefully raises her head, and I meet her warm eyes, holding them in place. I push in and out, and her arse is so goddamn tight that I don’t have much time—I’m lost to her slick grip, the full milky skin of her cheeks. I’m lost to her.
Thankfully I can multitask. My fingers work faster as I pump harder, with as much control as I can muster. I can’t seem to get enough air in my lungs, and the lights are starting to flicker, even though it’s all in my own head as I try not to break eye contact with her in the mirror.
I know she’s close to coming when her face begins to contort, her jaw open and locked, her eyes fluttering, fighting to keep staring at the foggy version of me when all they want to do is close. She comes hard, shaking so violently she almost falls to her knees, and I manage to keep her upright, all her weight on my hand, my arm straining while my fingers extract every last drop of pleasure from her swollen clit.
I don’t look away. Not once. I’m going back to Scotland alone, and I need every single memory of her ingrained in my mind.
I come fast. Abrupt. It catches me off-guard, and my cries echo in the washroom and I pour into her. It feels so bloody good, I can barely stand. When I manage to open my eyes again, Kayla’s blurry reflection is staring back at me in the mirror.
“You’re a dirty boy,” she says. “A lucky boy,” she adds. “Anal already?”
I can’t help the dazed grin on my face. I shrug before slowly pulling out of her. “I’m not missing an opportunity with you around. I wasn’t kidding when I said I was spending every spare minute from now until Sunday with you.”
“Too bad you can’t come to my office in a few hours,” she says. “Maybe go down on me under my desk.”