Water poured off her back in shimmering trails. She was all curve and sweat and power.
Kael thrust up into her without hesitation.
Sharp. Deep. Relentless.
His grip on her waist turned bruising.
She pushed back to meet every stroke, panting now, high and broken.
"Harder," she gasped, voice thick and desperate. "Fuck me harder, Kael—I want to feel it tomorrow."
He slammed into her—hard, deep, wet—his thighs cracking against her ass with every thrust.
The rhythm went savage.
Her cries sharpened, pitched higher, each one a desperate gasp tossed into the echoing heat of the bathroom.
Then she moved again—sudden, instinctive.
She slid forward, water pouring off her hips, and clambered onto the edge of the tub, bare thighs gleaming, skin flushed and dripping.
Her legs spread wide, feet braced on slick porcelain, and she looked back at him over her shoulder.
Hair wild.
Eyes glowing.
"On your knees."
Kael obeyed.
