Water, Water...

The mist of a too-long shower hung heavy in the bathroom, but Joanna didn\'t care. If there was one haven from stress, work, drama, her combustible soclifelife--this was it. She cocked her head in thought, then smirked a silly smirk and reached for the shampoo a. H. Her hair was clean, yes. But one could never have too much a good thing.

James was coming home soon, and she knew he\'d have something special planned for their versversary. I sincerely hope that he likes the smell of this shampoo, then, Joanna thought bemusedly. The shower radio--a good investment, that--blared music, music she knew well and sang along to loudly. So loudly, in fact, that she failed completely to hear the bathroom door click open.

It\'s easy to imagine, then, the sudden surprise that gripped her when the shower curtain was pushed aside to reveal him. The unwelcome rush of cold air prickled at Joanna\'s skin, and she was painfully conscious of the feel of her tightening nipples. An involuntary shudder ran through her, both from the rush of cold air--and from the man standing in front of her.

He was naked. Unclothed, in the nude, wearing his birthday suit--naked. It was stunning, how such a silly thing could make her swoon like a teenager. But it was difficult not to lick her lips at the flat planes of his stomach, his broad shoulders, wide jaw, strong calves, and his thighs, and--oh!--would her eyes wander but a bit higher!

The shock of such an unexpected intrusion had Joanna slack-jawed and unmoving, the shampoo trickling down between her breasts, forgotten. Her brain had shifted all its gears, from successful businesswoman of the new millenium getting ready for a serious date--to that of a woman overridden with such desire that she was finding it difficult to breathe. How did he do this so consistently to her?

He didn\'t say anything, perhaps sensing that she would not have the presence of mind to answer. Instead, he gave her the most devilish grin she had ever seen and stepped into the shower. The curtain swooshed closed behind him, and suddenly na fna found herself pressed between his chest and the hard tile of the wall, crushed beneath a ed ked kiss.

Something primal kicked Joanna\'s mind into gear, and her hands went instinctively around his neck, fingers intertwined, as she always had them. He pulled away from her long enough to bark a laugh at this; his hands reached to grip her wrists, holding them roughly against the wall, and still his mouth plundered hers again, merciless.

Joanna swore she felt her eyes roll back into her head from sheer desire. Robbed of her hands, she arched her back and pressed her breasts into him instead, ground her hips against his erection, until he was responding with as many moans as he elicited from her. He dropped his head lower to her neck, fingers still bruising her wrists, and kissed the perfect curvature of her collarbone, darting his tongue out and grazing his teeth upon the skin.

His left hand dropped to cup her breast. He drew excruciating sensual circles with the pad of his thumb, head still buried in her neck, and she took the opportunity to entangle her fingers in his hair, encouraging. The water pounded hard as his back, thousands of hot needles, and flushed his body with heat.

And now, lower fell his right hand, tracing the curve of her belly and thighs, pressing behind her knee-then caressing back up her inner thigh, to reach between her legs. She gripped his hair a little harder then he grazed that sensitive spot, bit her lip when he drew circle around it, cried uninhibited when he gently pushed a finger inside her and stroked--oh, God!--that spot.

The water sputtered, strengthened.

Joanna arched against him and wrapped a leg about his waist. She kissed him fiercely between pants of breaths, ran her hand up and down his back. She was close now, he knew. His finger slipped out and she exhaled a hiss of disapproval, her fingers pressing roughly into his back, scratching him and making the hot water sting hotter. He ignored her silent protests and put both his hands on her bottom instead, lifting her up and thrusting inside her in one easy stroke.

The showerhead had a high whine now that echoed infuriatingly in his head as he fucked her. Hard, rough-hitting those white tiles with force that would leave bruises later. Marks Joanna would complain about and hide, but one that she would love to remember. She had crossed her legs around him now, and her arms were tight around his shoulders, and he moved perfectly in her, slick from the foggy room, with sweat and with lust, his arms shaking and straining from the effort, knowing he couldn\'t hold much longer.

She squeezed her eyes shut and screamed and tensed, finally, with the waves of orgasm, and her hands clawed for purchase on his back and her body squeezed around him. The feel was too much. He grunted and pressed her tightly against the wall, pushing out breath and emotion and thought, and leaving only room for his own shuddering orgasm.

His knees buckled; Joanna fell with him to the white floor of the shower. They stayed, then. They lay there, limbs entangled and eyes fluttering open and shut, breath coming heavy, flushed and exhausted, long after the water ceased to stain them in fiery heat.