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Kayla notices my discomfort and gives me a small smile. “Thanks for this. I really appreciate it.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. She knows what I did, what I tried to do, so why isn’t she kicking my ass for it?
The silence between us is awkward, and the tension is building up.
Suddenly, Kayla steps closer to me, her eyes intense as she stares straight into my soul. “I need you,” she whispers, her voice barely above a whisper.
My heart races as I look into her eyes, feeling the heat between us growing stronger by the second. I know what she’s asking for, and I want it too. But I can’t let my desire get in the way. This isn’t what she needs. Isn’t what any of us need.
I take a step back, trying to shake the thoughts from my head. “Kayla, we need to focus on getting out of here. We can’t let our emotions cloud our judgement.”
Her face falls, disappointment written all over it. But I know it’s for the best, even as hurting her makes me feel like an absolute dick. We can’t risk anything that might slow us down or jeopardise our escape.
Besides, if the others came in here and found me railing her after she’s just nearly drowned, they’d kick my ass.
“Shower. Warm up. I’ll grab you a towel and some spare clothes,” I tell her before leaving her under the hot spray. I grab a change of clothes for myself from my locker and quickly get changed, hoping a little distance will break the tension between us.
A loud sob stops me in my tracks, and I drop my wet things to the floor as I race back to the shower room.
Kayla is curled up on her side, sobbing in the corner of the room, a plume of steam surrounding her.
“Fuck, Kayla. I’m here.” It doesn’t matter that I just got dry and changed into my only set of spare clothes, I race across the wet tiles to get to her, falling to my knees to pull her into my embrace.
I cradle her to my chest and let her fall apart as the hot water beats down on the both of us.
“S-sorry,” she hiccups eventually. She’s trembling in my grip despite the warm water, and a wave of fierce protection comes over me.
“Don’t apologise. You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s me who should be apologising,” I tell her.
“I-I c-c-can’t s-stop,” she sobs.
“Trust me a minute okay?”
I know she must be in a bad state because she nods, even as she continues to judder and shake. I place her back down on the tiles, on her knees this time, and kneel up myself. I peel my soaked shirt from my skin and fling it into the corner, then I slide my sweatpants down my thighs.
God, I hope no-one walks in right now, they’ll fucking kill me.
“W-w-what are y-you d-d-o-ing?” she stammers, staring at me with wide eyes as I fist my cock and pump it roughly a half dozen times.
“Put your mouth on me, Kayla,” I instruct.
“W-what?”
“You heard me.”
She’s drawing in ragged breath after breath, but she’s not exhaling and I can see that I’m losing her. I steel myself and my voice.
“You heard me, slut. Get your fucking mouth on me right now. I won’t tell you again.”
It works. She blinks at me in shock, exhales deeply and bends at the waist to take my dick into her mouth. But again she hesitates.
“Snow—”
“Shut the fuck up, and take that dick like a good girl.”
She inhales, pupils blowing, and fuck if she doesn’t take my breath away, staring up at me with wide innocent eyes like that. I have to remind myself this isn’t about me taking what I want, but giving her what she needs.
She takes me in her mouth and holds me there, adjusting to the feel, weight and taste of me.
