______
Warning ⚠️ : This Chapter contains sexual contents , please skip if you're under 18 years .
_____
Celine's breath caught at his words, the quiet challenge in them wrapping around her like the steam itself. She didn't look away this time. Instead, she let her gaze linger on his mouth, on the way his lips parted slightly, waiting.
She moved first—slow, deliberate, closing the small distance between them in the warm water. Her knees slid along his thighs as she shifted closer, water sloshing softly around them. Zhane's eyes darkened, pupils dilating as he watched her approach, but he didn't move. He let her come to him.
When their lips finally met, it was gentle at first—a tentative brush, testing. Then she pressed deeper, and everything ignited.
His mouth opened under hers, warm and hungry, tasting faintly of mint and the faint salt of his skin. Celine's hands found his shoulders, fingers digging into the firm muscle as she kissed him harder, tongues sliding together in a slow, sensual dance.
Zhane groaned low in his throat—a sound that vibrated straight through her—and his hands rose to cradle her face, thumbs stroking her cheeks as he angled her head to take the kiss deeper still.
The world narrowed to the heat of his mouth, the slick glide of tongues, the soft sounds they made—wet, needy kisses that grew louder, more desperate. She whimpered against his lips when he sucked gently on her bottom one, and he answered with a rougher pull, drawing her closer until their chests pressed together, skin sliding against skin under the water.
When they finally broke apart, both were breathing hard, foreheads resting together, droplets clinging to their lashes.
"I've wanted this for so long," he murmured, voice husky, raw.
Celine's heart stuttered. She nodded, unable to speak, then kissed him again—slower this time, savoring.
His hands moved down her back, tracing the curve of her spine, then lower, cupping her hips. He lifted her effortlessly in the water, guiding her until she straddled his lap, knees bracketing his hips. The heat between her thighs met the hard length of him, and she gasped softly into his mouth at the contact—velvet steel pressing against her folds.
Zhane's breath hitched. "Celine…"
She rocked her hips experimentally, sliding along his length, coating him in her wetness. The friction sent sparks up her spine, and she moaned—soft, breathy, the sound echoing off the tiles.
He groaned in response, hands tightening on her hips. "You feel so good already."
Slowly, deliberately, he guided her, lifting her just enough so the tip of him nudged her entrance. She felt him there—thick, hot, waiting—and her body clenched in anticipation.
"Look at me," he whispered.
She did. Their eyes locked as she sank down, taking him in inch by inch and gritting her teeth as she felt the pain of her hymen tearing.
The stretch was exquisite—slow, burning pleasure that made her gasp, lips parting on a trembling moan. Zhane's head fell back against the rim, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he felt her envelop him completely, tight and warm and perfect.
"Oh… fuck," he breathed, voice ragged.
Celine's hands braced on his shoulders, nails biting into skin as she adjusted to the fullness. She was trembling—pleasure so sharp it bordered on overwhelming. She could feel every ridge, every pulse of him inside her.
Then he moved.
A slow, deep roll of his hips, grinding up into her, and she cried out—low, keening, the sound dissolving into steam.
He set a languid rhythm, each thrust measured, deliberate, drawing out every sensation. Water sloshed around them with every motion, warm waves lapping at their skin, adding to the slick glide. Celine's head tipped back, exposing her throat, and Zhane leaned in to kiss and suck at the pulse point there, teeth grazing just enough to make her shudder.
"Zhane…" she moaned, voice breaking on his name. "Deeper…"
He obliged, pulling her down harder onto him, burying himself to the hilt. The angle hit something inside her that made stars burst behind her eyelids. She clenched around him, and he groaned, hips stuttering for a moment before he found the rhythm again—slow, deep, relentless.
The pleasure built like a slow tide—hot, heavy, coiling low in her belly. Every thrust sent ripples through her, her clit rubbing against his pelvis with each downward grind. She was so wet, so ready, the sounds of their bodies meeting wet and obscene beneath the water.
"You're perfect," he rasped against her neck, one hand sliding between them to find her clit, circling it with slow, firm strokes. "So fucking perfect for me."
Celine's moans grew louder, unrestrained—soft cries that turned into whimpers as the pressure mounted. She rocked faster now, chasing the edge, thighs trembling around him.
Zhane's breathing was ragged, control fraying. "Come for me, baby," he murmured, voice thick with need. "Let me feel you."
His words, combined with the steady pressure on her clit and the deep, rolling thrusts, shattered her.
She came with a broken cry, body tightening around him, pulsing hard. Zhane's hips jerked, a low, guttural moan tearing from his throat as he followed her over the edge—thrusting deep one last time, spilling inside her with hot, shuddering pulses.
They clung to each other in the aftermath, foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling in the steam-filled air. The water settled around them, warm and gentle now, as the last tremors faded.
Zhane kissed her softly—slow, lingering, full of everything they hadn't said yet.
"I'm not letting go," he whispered against her lips.
Celine smiled, heart full, and kissed him back.
"Good." Celine said, her smile suddenly turning mischievous against his lips, the aftershocks of their kiss still humming through her.
She pulled back just enough to look at him—water beading on his lashes, chest rising and falling, that quiet intensity in his eyes making her stomach flip.
Without a word, she slid lower in the tub, water sloshing gently around them. Zhane's breath caught as he realized what she intended.
"Celine…" His voice was rough, almost a warning, but his hands stayed loose at his sides, letting her lead.
She settled between his thighs, knees braced on the tub floor, water lapping at her waist. The steam made everything feel dreamlike, hazy. She looked up at him through her lashes, then slowly wrapped her fingers around the base of his cock—still hard, velvet-smooth, pulsing in her grip.
Zhane groaned low, head tipping back against the rim as she stroked him once, twice, feeling him thicken even more under her touch.
She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the tip, tasting the faint salt of him mixed with bathwater. Then she took him into her mouth—slow, deliberate, lips stretching around him as she slid down.
The sound he made was guttural, raw—half moan, half curse. His hand found her hair, not pushing, just threading through the wet strands like he needed to anchor himself.
Celine hollowed her cheeks, tongue swirling along the underside as she bobbed slowly, savoring the weight of him on her tongue, the way he throbbed every time she sucked harder. She looked up again, catching his gaze—dark, wrecked, completely undone by her.
"Fuck, baby," he rasped, hips twitching slightly. "You're gonna kill me."
She hummed around him, the vibration making him shudder, and she took him deeper, relaxing her throat until her nose brushed his skin. Zhane's fingers tightened in her hair, a low, broken moan spilling from his throat.
She worked him with slow, wet pulls—lips tight, tongue relentless—until his breathing turned ragged, hips rocking shallowly into her mouth.
When he came, it was sudden and intense. He groaned her name, body tensing as he pulsed hot and thick down her throat. Celine swallowed every drop, holding him until the last tremor faded, then slowly pulled back, lips swollen, eyes bright.
Zhane looked at her like she was the only thing in the world. He tugged her up gently, kissing her hard—tasting himself on her tongue, not caring, just needing her closer.
"My turn," he murmured against her mouth, voice still rough.
He shifted them so she was sitting on the edge of the tub, legs draped over the sides, water still warm around her hips. He knelt between her thighs, hands sliding up her calves, her knees, parting her gently.
His fingers found her clit—already swollen, slick—and he circled it slowly, watching her face. Celine's head fell back, a soft whimper escaping.
"Zhane…"
He pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh, then another, before his fingers slid lower, dipping inside her—two at once, curling just right. She gasped, hips jerking toward him.
He worked her slowly at first—deep, steady thrusts of his fingers, thumb rubbing firm circles over her clit. The water made everything slicker, the sounds wet and obscene. Her moans grew louder, breathy, unrestrained.
He added a third finger, stretching her, curling harder against that spot that made her see white. Her hands gripped the edge of the tub, knuckles white.
"Look at me," he said, voice low, commanding.
She did—eyes glassy, lips parted—and he sped up, fingers relentless, thumb pressing harder on her clit.
The pleasure built fast, coiling tight in her core. She cried out his name, body arching as she shattered—clenching around his fingers, thighs trembling, a long, shuddering moan echoing off the tiles.
Zhane didn't stop until she was boneless, trembling, chest heaving. He kissed her inner thigh softly, then stood, pulling her back into the water with him.
She straddled his lap again, still sensitive, still needy. His cock was already hard again, pressing against her folds.
This time, there was no teasing.
He guided her down onto him—slow, inch by inch—until he was buried deep inside her. They both groaned at the feel of it: her tight walls enveloping him, him filling her completely.
Celine rocked her hips, slow and deep, riding him with languid rolls. Water sloshed around them, steam curling in the air. His hands gripped her hips, helping her move, thumbs digging into her skin.
She leaned forward, kissing him—messy, desperate—tongues sliding as they found a rhythm. Slow thrusts, deep grinds, every motion drawing out the pleasure.
"God, you feel so good," he murmured into her mouth, voice wrecked. "So perfect."
She moaned against his lips, nails raking down his back as she ground down harder, clit rubbing against him with every roll of her hips. The heat built again—slower this time, deeper, more intense.
Zhane's hands slid up her back, pulling her closer, burying his face in her neck as he thrust up to meet her. Their breaths mingled, moans soft and broken.
She came first—quiet this time, a trembling gasp against his shoulder as she clenched around him, waves of pleasure rolling through her. Zhane followed seconds later, hips stuttering, groaning low and long as he spilled inside her again.
They stayed like that—wrapped around each other, water settling, steam thick in the air—hearts pounding in sync.
Zhane kissed her temple, soft and lingering.
"I'm never letting you go," he whispered.
Celine smiled against his skin, warm and content.
"I wouldn't let you even if you tried."