Damien pov
I twisted the shower handle to scalding. Steam billowed up instantly, thick and hot, fogging the glass. I stripped out of the tuxedo in rough, impatient movements—jacket, shirt, belt, pants, boxers—all hitting the marble floor in a careless heap. My cock sprang free, heavy and flushed dark, the tip glistening, veins standing out in stark relief. I stepped under the punishing spray without waiting for it to warm fully; the burn against my skin was almost welcome.
One hand slapped against the slate tile wall for balance. The other wrapped around my shaft—tight, almost punishing. I gave one long, slow stroke from root to tip, spreading the slickness leaking from the slit, and a ragged groan tore out of me.
"Aria…"
Her name tasted like sin on my tongue.
