Page 4 of There is No Devil

The music echoes off the stone walls, bouncing around the space, melding with the thick steam of the shower.

Terrible Thing – AG

Spotify → geni.us/no-devil-spotify

Apple Music → geni.us/no-devil-apple

“Why do you need music for everything?” Cole asks me.

“Because it makes everything better,” I say, stepping into the pounding spray.

Cole stands outside the glass, his eyes roaming over my wet body.

He has no shame in watching me. He does it openly, all the time. Not bothering to hide his pleasure.

It’s flattering.

I’m an exotic creature to him. Everything I do is interesting.

Cole’s gaze makes me more aware of what I’m doing. How I tilt my head back under the spray, exposing my throat. How the soap suds slide down between my breasts. How my skin flushes in the heat.

I shower slowly, sensually. Running my palms over my own curves. Rotating in place so he can admire me from every angle.

When Cole watches me, his eyes come alive in his face. He leans back against the wall, arms folded over his chest, the clean-cut muscle of his arms visible through the thin material of his shirt.

Every turn of my body sends a twitch down the tight line of his jaw. His eyes crawl up my thighs, my ass, over his own artwork running from my hip to my ribs, even over the ugly scars marking both my arms: he likes it all.

I lift the showerhead down from the wall so I can direct the flow exactly where I want it. I let it rain down on my face, eyes closed, mouth open so the droplets pound on my tongue. I run the water across my breasts, in slow strokes in time to the music.

Sitting down on the shower bench, I spray the water on the soles of my feet, squirming a little at how it tickles. Then I run the water all the way up my leg, first one, then the other.

Cole stands motionless, watching me. His endless fascination creates a voyeuristic energy that spurs me on to stranger and stranger behaviors.

Leaning back against the cool stone wall, I spread my knees apart, opening my pussy to his view. Now he steps forward, eyes darker than an oil spill, lips pale.

I point the shower spray directly at my pussy. It’s almost too hot to bear, so I splash the water lightly against my exposed lips until I’m used to it, until I can direct the pressure right at my clit.

My head falls back against the wall, eyes closed.

I’m not watching Cole watching me anymore.

I’m feeling it.

The water caresses me, sliding in and out of my folds, running everywhere. It’s warm and powerful. The closer I bring the showerhead, the more intense the sensation becomes.

“That’s right …” Cole murmurs. “Good girl. Don’t stop.”

The flush rises up my body, filling my breasts, crawling up my neck.

The heat is almost too much. I want to turn it down.

Sensing this, Cole steps inside the shower. He drops to his knees in front of me, closing his hand over mine on the showerhead, locking my fingers in place. He points the spray right where he wants it and holds it there as the heat and pressure rises.

His trousers are drenched, as well as his expensive Italian loafers. Cole barely notices. For all his perfectionism, Cole is a pleasure-seeker just like me. He wants what he wants, and he’s willing to pay for it.

Right now he wants to make me cum, and he doesn’t give a fuck what clothes he ruins.

“You’ve done this before,” he growls.

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