Anna Kendrick/Reader
Shivering uncontrollably, he rang the doorbell of the immaculate, white house. He'd been on a run when it had suddenly poured and he'd tried all the other houses. Shifting his weight from foot-to-foot, he waited for the answer.
A luxurious, blood-red car was parked in the driveway, and he'd seen a woman's silhouette in the uppermost window. As his thoughts drifted elsewhere, the door swung open. A delicately-built woman answered, wearing a bright green sports bra and yoga pants. Sweat gleamed on the pink skin of her flushed chest and ran down her temples in rivulets.
"Can I help you?" she said in a light voice that sounded like she was laughing with every word she spoke.
She was breathless. He shifted uncomfortably, unable to stop the thoughts of what she sounded like in bed. Her pale blue eyes crinkled as she rested a hip against the door frame, wiping the sweat off her temples.
Mentally kicking himself, he stammered, "Uh, oh, u-um, hi. I w-was running and, um, I don't have an um phone on me. Could I, um, borrow yours?" He could feel his face heating up under her stare and prayed he didn't pop his shorts.
"Sure. You can even use my shower, if you'd like." She smiled at him again and then turned and pranced away, her hair swinging back and forth. He trailed after her once he kicked off his wet shoes and socks. Unable to help himself, his eyes trailed down her figure, to that sweet ass being hugged by the stretchy fabric. God, he nearly groaned at the sight of the cheeks shifting with every step—up, down, up, down, alternating. His mind immediately dropped to the gutter, imagining the soft feel of those cheeks in his hand.
She turned suddenly, and something flashed across her face too fast for him to decipher. "It's up the stairs, down the hall, last door on the left," she informed him, flicking a light-brown curl off her shoulder as she turned and trotted into a room where music blasted.
He watched her leave, unable to place her; he knew he'd seen her before, somewhere, but, as of the moment, he wasn't able to recall where exactly. Shrugging to himself, he headed up the stairs and followed her instructions. The carpet was plush under his bare feet and he peeled off his shirt as he went. The wet fabric stubbornly clung to his skin but he managed to peel it off without too much trouble. Untying the drawstring, he opened the door and glanced back.
The woman was nowhere to be found.
His mouth dropped open at the sight of the walk-in shower, taking up more than half of the bathroom. The tiles were pristine white, like they were either hardly used or cleaned daily at the least, and there was a mat to make sure one didn't slip. Three bottles took up residence on a little shelf. Some feminine-scented body wash. A coconut-oil based shampoo and conditioner.
His sweats and wet underwear landed on the floor with a plop. Crossing the bathroom quickly, he fiddled with the knobs until the water turned on. While the water was heating up, he stuck the wet clothes in the sink and found some towels in the tiny closet squeezed in next to the toilet.
Unable to find anything else, he stepped into the spray and moaned to himself as the hot water sluiced down his chest and heat seeped into his sore muscles, working its magic. Refusing to use her pink loofah, he squirted some body wash into his hands and began to work it into a lather across his chest and down his torso. He avoided his hard cock, saving it for last, and scrubbed the dirt and sweat off his thighs and legs.
Once he rinsed off, he squirted some more body wash and, peering through the glass door, began to work his hand up and down his dick. It throbbed in time with his pulse and he squeezed, mindful of his strength.
The door opened and he jerked, yelping as the hot water hit him square in the face. Quick, light footsteps got closer and then the door was thrown open.
"Oh my god, are you okay?"
The woman was naked, holding the door open, and wasn't even trying to hide her nudity. Her tits were a bit on the smaller side, with dark brown nipples that puckered in the air, and her soft belly gave way to girlish hips and a thatch of dark hair between her thighs.
"I, uh, I mean—yes!" he sputtered, trying to hunch his shoulders to shield his thick cock. Then he blinked and stood up straighter, ignoring the hair plastered into his field of vision. "Wait, why are you naked?"
She laughed and stepped into the shower with him. The water beat down on her fragile body, running in rivulets down her sun-tanned skin, and wet her hair. "I wanted to be. I saw you looking at my ass," she murmured, leaning on her tip toes to kiss the underside of his jaw.
He couldn't speak. This hot as fuck woman was here, in the shower, with him, fucking naked.
"I want you to fuck me," she said brightly, beaming up at him, and then her mouth was on his. Her lips tasted like beer and he moaned against her tongue when it darted out and tapped against his lips.
He reached around her and grabbed her ass, hauling her closer, his erection trapped between their wet bodies. When she whined softly, he backed her up until she was against the wall and pulled his mouth away from hers.
Her glossy, blue eyes blinked up at him. "Why—" she tried, her voice low and husky now, but her voice left her when he trailed open-mouthed kisses down her chest and nipped at her right nipple. Her hands gripped his hair tight enough to be painful and he wrapped his lips tight around it, sucking it and scraping the edges with his teeth gently, enough to be pleasurable. She bucked against him, her wet pussy against his hard cock, and he sucked in a breath.
Her moans turned to soft screams as he switched to the other nipple, plucking and flicking the abandoned one. Her hands tugged and yanked at his hair painfully but he kept sucking, varying the pressure. "Please," she breathed, her hands sliding out of his hair in favor of running up and down his back, kneading the muscles.
