120
The shower hissed and sighed around them, its steam thickening the air until everything outside the glass walls felt distant, unimportant. Yalda’s skin tingled under the hot water, her body already humming from the way Ioannis touched her.
He stood behind her, water cascading down the contours of his body, his hands slick with soap as they moved across her shoulders, down the curve of her spine.
Her breath hitched as his fingers spread over her hips, squeezing gently, his mouth brushing over the wet skin of her shoulder. She could feel the strength in his grip, the hunger in his touch as he pulled her closer, her back flushed against his hard chest.
“I’ve been wanting to do this since the minute we walked in here,” he murmured into her ear, his voice low, gravelly, and full of intent.
Yalda didn’t answer with words, she tilted her head back, letting it rest against his shoulder, giving him full access to her throat. He took it with a groan, lips trailing open-mouthed kisses down her neck, nipping softly as his hands slid forward to cup her breasts, lathering them with soap and need.
He rolled her nipples between his fingers, slow at first, then rougher as her soft moans echoed off the tiled walls. Her legs quivered slightly as he teased her, his hands moving lower, lower, slipping between her thighs.
She gasped as his fingers found her core, the hot water adding to the slickness already there. He stroked her with the expertise of a man who knew exactly what made her unravel. Two fingers slid inside her, curling, pressing against that spot that made her eyes flutter shut. His thumb circled her clit, and her hips bucked against his hand.
“Tell me what you want, agapi mou,” he whispered.
“I want you,” she breathed, voice shaking. “Now.”
He didn’t make her wait. One strong arm circled her waist, bending her slightly forward. She braced her palms against the warm tile wall, heart pounding, every nerve raw and alert.
Then he slid into her in one slow, deep thrust.
Yalda let out a sharp cry, the stretch of him overwhelming and perfect. Ioannis groaned behind her, hips jerking forward as he buried himself to the hilt. He stayed still for a moment, letting her adjust, his hands gripping her hips so tightly she could feel the imprint of his fingers.
Then he began to move.
Each thrust was powerful and deliberate, her body slapping softly against his with every movement. The sound of water, breath, skin, it all fiilled the air.
He fucked her from behind with deep, rhythmic strokes, hitting places that made her toes curl and her jaw go slack. She reached between her legs, desperate for more, and he batted her hand away with a growl.
“I’ve got you,” he said, and his fingers returned to her clit, rubbing quick circles in time with his thrusts.
She moaned louder now, back arching, her breasts bouncing with the force of his movements. He leaned forward, kissed her shoulder, her spine, her ear. “You’re mine like this. Every inch of you.”
“Ioannis—” she gasped, overwhelmed.
“You feel so fucking good, Yalda.”
Before she could answer, he pulled out and turned her around, lifting her effortlessly. Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively as he pushed her back against the tiled wall, thrusting into her again with a force that stole her breath.
He drove into her over and over, her hands tangled in his wet hair, her head thrown back, mouth open in silent cries. Her body shook as the pressure built, her orgasm rising fast and sharp. She clawed at his shoulders, tried to warn him, but he already knew.
“That’s it,” he groaned, “Come for me.”
And she did.
Her body tensed, clenched, then exploded around him, pleasure crashing through her in a blinding wave. He didn’t stop, he fucked her through it, his own release not far behind.
With a grunt, he buried himself deep one final time and spilled inside her, hips jerking as he came. His forehead pressed to hers, both of them trembling, panting, clinging.
Long moments passed before either of them spoke.
Still cradling her, Ioannis kissed her softly; nothing like the rough, wild way he’d taken her moments ago. This was gentle. Reverent.
He cleaned her slowly, washing her skin with the same hands that had just claimed her, then wrapped her in a towel and carried her to bed.
The sheets were warm and crisp, the room dimly lit. He pulled her close under the covers, spooning her from behind, his breath brushing the back of her neck.
Yalda lay still, her body was sore and boneless, but her mind slowly stirred with thoughts she didn’t want to face.
She was falling for him. That much was undeniable.
And it terrified her.
Ioannis was gentle, attentive, fiercely passionate. He made her feel desired in ways she had never imagined possible. When he touched her, she felt seen. Safe. Cherished.
But she couldn’t ignore the ache that pulsed in a corner of her chest, a ghost she couldn’t shake.
Alexander.
She didn’t know how or why, but she still loved him. She still wanted him.
If he walked into this room right now and opened his arms, she couldn’t say with any honesty that she’d stay where she was. She hated that truth. Hated herself a little for it.
It wasn’t fair to Ioannis. It wasn’t fair to herself.
She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to focus on the rhythm of Ioannis’s breathing, the steady beat of his heart against her back. This man, this incredible, generous man, was here. He wanted her. He was giving her everything.
And she wanted to give him everything in return.
But her heart was a battlefield, and the past wasn’t done with her yet. Still, she reached back and took his hand, threading her fingers through his.
She would hold onto this moment.
For now.
Because it was real. Even if part of her still belonged to someone else.
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