Page 85 of The Sadist and the Brat

“I’ll keep that in mind. How’s the temperature?”

“It’s good.” She stepped into the jets, taking care to avoid the rainhead. She was reluctant to get her hair wet, not knowing what kind of shampoo he had. His hair was long and thick and always looked nice, and that was a good sign, but previous experiences in dudes’ showers had made her wary. “Do you have shampoo and conditioner?”

“In the niche behind you.”

She picked up one of the bottles from the tidy little shelf built into the glass-tiled wall, noting the brand with surprise. She popped the cap and took a sniff. It smelled like him. “Is it okay if I wash my hair?”

“Sure. Take this first.”

“Oh.” She took the bottle of water he held out. It was chilled, and she realized he must have a mini fridge hidden away somewhere. She twisted off the cap, suddenly parched. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, and stripped off his shirt.

She choked on the water, spitting it out, and goggled. The shower enclosure was starting to fog up, rendering him slightly blurry, but she could see enough. “What are you doing?”

“Getting naked,” he replied, and reached for his belt buckle. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“What?” she asked, distracted by the sight of his bare chest. He was furrier than she thought he’d be, and thicker, and the tattoo on his right forearm went all the way up his arm, over his shoulder, down the right side of his torso before disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans. “What?”

“I said, isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Uh-huh.” Her gaze was glued to his hands which were slowly, methodically, popping the buttons on his fly, one by one.Dear God, he’s not wearing underwear.“Yeah.”

“Do you still want to fuck?” he asked and shoved his pants down and off.

“Hang on,” she said, and chugged the water. When the bottle was empty, she lowered it and gasped, “What was the question again?”

“I said,” he drawled, “do you still want to fuck?”

She tore her eyes away from his penis to look at his face. He was laughing, probably at her, but she didn’t care. She dropped her gaze back down, straining to see detail through the foggy glass. No, she didn’t care at all. “I really do.”

“Good,” he said, and stepped into the shower with her.

The enclosure was so big she didn’t have to move out of the way for him to get in, which was good because her feet seemed to have been glued to the floor, and her eyes were glued to…all of him.

He was rolling on a condom, which compromised her view of his penis, but she’d seen that before. The rest of him, on the other hand, had been a mystery until just a moment ago, and she was far from done looking. “Can you just stand there for a minute?”

He opened the shower door, tossed the condom wrapper at the trash can, and shut it again. “Why?”

“I haven’t seen you naked before,” she said, trying to see all of him at once. Shoulders, pecs, arms—dear God, the arms—abs, waist, legs.“I want to take it in.”

“I feel so objectified,” he said, and dragged her under the rainhead. “So cheap.”

She sputtered, swiping her now thoroughly wet hair out of her eyes. “That’s a joke, right?”

“Yes, Sadie,” he said, clearly amused, and plucked the bottle of shampoo she still held out of her hand. “That’s a joke.”

“I keep forgetting you have a sense of humor,” she said, grabbing his arms when his hands slipped around her waist and pushed her backwards.

He backed her up until her back hit the tile, cool against her heated skin. She blinked the water out of her eyes.

“I get that a lot,” he said, then hitched her off her feet, angled her hips, and shoved his cock into her.

Chapter Thirteen

She gasped in shock and pain—her pussy was really sore—and wrapped her arms reflexively around his neck. “Shit, Jack. Give a girl some warning.”

He grunted, sliding his hands from her waist to her ass. “I did. I said, ‘do you wanna fuck’.”

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