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Every stroke, every moan, every thought of Angelica brings me closer to release. My other hand grabs the shower gel off the side of the tub and I lather my chest, her perfume cascading down my body.
“Angelica,” I say again, my voice ragged with desire. “I’m going to come.”
The words tumble from my lips like a confession as my release starts to build.
“Angel,” I groan.
My grip tightens on my erection as I erupt, waves of pleasure crashing over me like the ebb and flow of the tide. My throat convulses, my balls tighten.
But even as I climax, the guilt crushing me is still there, a constant weight. I come down from my high and feel hollow, stripped clean of the pleasure I just experienced. There’s no relief in my release, only a longing to be with Angelica again, to truly give myself to her and not leave.
With a shudder, I let go of my erection, feeling the weight of the moment disperse like the last droplets of water leaving my body. When it’s over, I lean against the shower wall, gasping for air, the cold tiles biting into my back. I don’t know how long I stand like that, but I finally force myself to find the strength to step out and dry off.
ChapterTwenty
Angelica
My heart races as I hear the sound of the shower going, and I feel a strange mix of guilt and arousal. I knocked tentatively before letting myself back into our shared hotel room, but when there was no answer, I let myself in. The sound of the shower immediately explained why Lycus didn’t hear me knocking.
I don’t need a shower, having had that lovely bath at the club, but I could do with using the bathroom before catching a couple of hours sleep. Our flight out isn’t until later and Lycus kindly arranged a late checkout for us with the hotel front desk.
He’s so thoughtful in that respect. A smile tugs at my lips likening Lycus’ actions to Sir’s. No wonder I had such an amazing night; Sir reminded me of Lycus in a lot of ways.
My heart pangs at the realisation and I turn my attention back to the bathroom.
I don’t intend to spy or peek. I just planned to knock on the door and ask if he was nearly done. But as I get close, I accidentally steal a glance through the slightly open door, inadvertently catching a glimpse of Lycus in the shower.
His head is thrown back, eyes closed, a look of bliss on his face. It takes a moment for my eyes to register why. His left hand is lathering suds across his chest and his right…his right hand is pumping…
“Angelica,” he groans.
Oh fuck. Heat licks down my spine, making me tingle all over. I freeze in my spot, unable to look away. The sound of the water masking his actions only heightens the arousal coursing through me. I watch as Lycus completes his release, a satisfied sigh escaping him as he turns off the water.
By the time I can find my voice, Lycus has opened the door and I’m left with a wall of steam and naked, wet Lycus. I swallow hard, trying to gather my wits about me.
“Hey,” he greets me, a sly grin creeping onto his face. “I didn’t expect to see you back so soon.”
“I... I need to use the bathroom,” I stutter, my heart thumping in my chest. I can feel the heat of my blush across my cheeks.
“Oh,” Lycus replies, his voice low and seductive. He steps toward me, the drops of water from his body glistening in the dimly lit room. My eyes are drawn to the stiffness still visible between his legs, and I swear my mouth starts to water.
Get a grip Angelica! You’ve had a night of sex with a stranger and you’re still panting after Lycus like a bitch in heat.
My cheeks heat.
Lycus studies me for a moment, his thoughts hidden behind his intense gaze. Finally, he nods, a slow smirk crossing his lips as he reaches for a towel and begins to slowly dry off, making no effort to cover up his nakedness. “I’ll get out of your way then.”
“Please.”
He doesn’t actually move though, and I have to press against him to get through the doorway into the bathroom. I inhale as I squeeze past and frown. He doesn’t smell like Lycus at all.
“Did you use my shower gel?” I ask, my tone coming out sharper than I intended.
“Yeah, sorry,” he replies, sounding sheepish. “I grabbed it by mistake and it seemed wasteful to wash twice.”
I glare at him as I pass him on my way through. He doesn’t even flinch.
“You could have asked first,” I mutter, trying to be polite, but at this moment it’s hard to keep it together. I mean, he’s fucking standing there naked and dripping wet, and he expects me to act like everything is okay? I am not okay. Nothing about this situation, last night, this entire fucking trip, is okay.
