“Good to know,” I chirped, trying not to show any annoyance at his answer. I reached for my loofa poof and dumped way too much liquid soap into its center as I took my frustration out on the bottle. In a peevish mood now, I said, “Are you sure you still want to shower with me? Perhaps you’d rather shower with some natural beauty or a chick with her makeup tattooed on?”
Vaska spoke from the other side of the curtain. “You are a stunning woman with or without makeup, but with makeup you show your personality. Those gorgeous red lips that make me just want to smear your lipstick with my cock. And the way the thick fake eyelashes and black cat-eye eyeliner make your eyes look big and bold. I swear, I can see your indigo eyes from across a crowded room. I really love how you don’t wear a lot of blush on your cheeks. It challenges me to say things to bring a little pink there.”
My hand had stilled on my belly, the suds sliding down my thighs then the drain as I stood there frozen in shock. That was possibly one of the most genuinely honest compliments I had ever received. While every woman wanted to think they looked beautiful without makeup, we used makeup for a reason. For me especially, it was almost an art form, a form of self-expression. And the fact that this man had picked up on that floored me.
The curtain was abruptly pulled aside. There was a momentary blast of cold air before Vaska stepped naked into the shower with me. Reaching around to my front, he pulled me into his embrace, his hard cock pressing against my lower back. His hands caressed my belly then moved up to cup my breasts. He kissed my neck before whispering into my ear, “U tebya derzkiy rot. Mne ne terpitsya zastavit’ zamolchat’ tvoy rot svoim chlenom.”
I had to grab on to the metal wire shelf around the showerhead to keep my knees from buckling. There should be a law against a man this handsome speaking in Russian. It was such a deep, rough-sounding language filled with growling R’s and rolling L’s. Fuck French. Russian was the language of love. No wait, not love, it was too raw-sounding to be the language of love—it was the language of fucking.
“What did you just say?” I breathed as my head lolled to the side, giving him more access to my neck and earlobe.
He pinched both of my nipples before shifting his hand over my throat to caress my bottom lip with his fingertips. “I said you have a sassy mouth.” He then pushed his thumb between my lips. Without thinking, I swirled my tongue around it, tasting his skin. He then continued in a low, seductive purr, “I cannot wait to silence it with my cock.”
Oh. My. God.
He turned me around and fisted my wet hair, pulling my head back. His mouth crashed down on mine. My fingers splayed over his wet chest, feeling every sculpted muscle as he took complete possession of my mouth. He bit my lower lip, then asked, “Tell me now, krasotka. Do you want me to be gentle or rough?”
Damn him. No. He couldn’t do this to me. I needed him to stay in the role of insensitive, arrogant player. I needed that to remind me I was nothing more than a current fuck for him. I couldn’t have him asking sensitive questions like this. I knew he was only asking because of what had happened at the bar, but that he was sensitive enough to wonder would drive me over the edge. It would have me foolishly thinking he gave a damn about me and that was a one-way road to certain heartbreak.
I answered the only way I could, with the only thing I wanted, or at the very least should want, from him. “Rough.”
His cock twitched between our bodies. “Are you sure, baby? Once I start, I won’t stop.”
It was all kinds of wrong that that statement sent a bolt of arousal straight between my legs.
I tried to nod, but his grip on my hair prevented it. “I’m sure.”
He ran his open mouth over the edge of my jaw. “Remember, you asked for this.”
My abdomen muscles clenched in sick anticipation.
He painfully pulled on my hair before commanding, “U tebya na kolenyakh. On your knees.”
He gripped my upper arm as I slowly lowered to my knees. The scalding water pounded against my back as I braced my hands on the tops of his heavily muscled thighs. From any angle his cock was enormous, but from this angle it was terrifyingly enormous. It was just so long and thick… and long. As I stared at its length, I saw a tattoo at its base. It looked to be a few words in Cyrillic, but they were faded and his dark curly hair covered them. Before I could ask, he tugged on my hair again. “Open your mouth.”
I licked my lips. “You’re not going to shove it in too hard, are you?”
He looked down at me from his towering height. He raised one eyebrow. “What do you think, krasotka?”
Fuck.
I opened my mouth and tipped my head forward, taking the bulbous head between my lips. It filled my whole mouth, and I panicked. I tried to pull back, but his fist in my hair prevented it. Breathing heavily through my nose, I swirled my tongue around the head as he pushed in another inch. Then yet another inch. My nails dug into his thighs as I struggled to accept his thick girth. My lips felt stretched thin around the shaft.
“That’s it, baby, swallow my cock,” he coaxed as he stared down at me with those dark intense eyes.
He pulled back slightly, then pressed in again. I reached between my legs with my right hand and rubbed my clit as I took him in deeper, the idea of him choking me with his cock arousing me to the point of pain. He pushed in again, this time hitting the back of my throat. I gagged. He pulled free for a second, but then used his grip on my hair to force my mouth back onto his shaft. With the pressure of his hand, I bobbed my head up and down, each time taking his shaft a little further down my throat.
“Fuck, baby. Yes. God, yes,” he growled.
My throat was slowly relaxing, allowing him deeper. Soon, he was full-on fucking my mouth. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t take him all the way to the base, but I was close. Something I was strangely proud of. As he increased his pace, I pushed two fingers into my pussy, matching his punishing rhythm. It wasn’t long before I came. I smashed my thighs together as I rode out wave after wave of pleasure as he continued to abuse my throat.
His cock twitched and seemed to get even harder. He let out a guttural roar before thick streams of come shot into my mouth. Taken by surprise, I choked at first. I pulled free.
“Eyes on me,” he ordered, slightly out of breath. “Open your mouth. I want to see my come on your tongue.”
I obeyed, tilting my head back and pushing my tongue past my lips so he could see the thick semen coating it.
His gaze glistened with desire. “Good girl. Now swallow it.”
I swallowed.
“Lick your lips.”
I licked my lips.
He leaned down and wrapped his hands around my upper arms. He drew me to my feet. Without saying a word, he retrieved the loofa poof from its hook and added more liquid soap. Seeing his tanned and scarred hands covered in soft white soap bubbles as he clutched a pink poof was incredibly erotic. In slow sweeping circles, he ran the loofa over my skin. The slight scratch of the poof followed by the silky bubbles fired up all my senses. With his bare hand he collected some bubbles and rubbed between my legs. A groan escaped my lips.
He turned me around to face the tiled wall. His hands ran up my arms to wrap around my wrists. He stretched my arms high over my head.
“Keep your arms right there. If you move them, you’ll be punished.”