Shower Time 29

The hot water ran down her body. Sluicing over the supple curves. She hummed as she worked the soap into her skin. It had been a cold day at work; she had almost frozen her fingers off walking around the park.

Her job was enjoyable enough despite the cold. She was a tour guide in New York, which made no sense as she wasn't a local. Having moved to the country on a whim from England, Amelia had tried numerous jobs: waitressing, check-out chick, nothing had stuck. But she had always been a good conversationalist and her memory for odd facts had helped her land her current job, showing other newbies around the city's most famous Central Park. She had also quickly learned that a few coy glances could help men part with a generous tip. She knew she was attractive and she used it to her best advantage, flirting and suggestive looks could get her a twenty from most men, some women too.

Today had been the coldest since she'd moved across the ocean, and the moment her last tour had finished she'd raced home and hopped in the shower. Her roommate said she'd be out for the night, so she'd have the whole apartment to herself, and she intended to make good use of the peace. First a long hot soaking shower, and then she planned to sit down in front of the tele and binge her favourite cable shows.

She squirted a large dollop of shampoo into her hand and started to work it into her thick dark hair, humming all the while.

"Damn," she cursed as the stinging soap got in her eyes. Squeezing them shut she pushed her head back into the water to rinse. Sometimes when she had her eyes closed for too long, she irrationally imagined she felt someone watching her. It was stupid, really, but the price of an overactive imagination. She told herself she should stop reading those gothic novels.

This time though when she opened her eyes and saw another pair watching her from the other side of the shower glass, she squealed.

"Casper!" she scolded her roommate's white cat. It mewled and pawed against the glass. The stupid thing had pushed open the bathroom door and jumped up on the counter on the other side of the shower glass.

"Go along! I can't do anything for you in here."

The cat mewled again before jumping down and running out the door. She should really close it again but the lock was gammy, and it would just keep creeping open again. She went back to washing her hair and ignored it. That was a big mistake.

She turned into the spray to wash the last of the conditioner out of her hair when she heard the door creak again. Bloody cat, she thought to herself and didn't turn to look. She'd probably used enough of the hot water anyway, so she turned the taps and cut her shower short, at least her roommate wouldn't grumble about having a cold shower.

She stood there for a moment and let the last of the water run off her body. She pushed her hair back and squeezed out the last of the water. She sighed and swiped at her closed eyes, she was tired. Perhaps she'd best have an early night?

Before the thought had even settled in her mind, the glass shower-screen door opened, letting in the shock of cool air. A pair of hands grasped her shoulders and turned her, pushing her against the tiled shower wall.

She squealed at the intrusion. Her feet slipped underneath her on the slick floor as she attempted to wriggle away. A large warm grip settled around her throat, and she felt someone make a fist in her hair.

"Calm down." The deeply spoken words were a command, but she didn't heed it. Slipping and sliding, whimpering and yelling, trying to claw the stranger's hand away from her neck.

"You best calm down, or something worse will happen than what is to come."

She froze. It was a man's voice, deep, and with an American accent. She thought she had heard it before but she couldn't be sure.

"Good girl." His praise made her heart thump louder in her chest, she was sure he could hear it.

"What do you want with me?" She spoke into the tiles in front of her. His grip around her throat wasn't painful but it prevented her from turning her head.

His other hand left her damp hair and curled around her waist. His skin was rough, his palms felt calloused against her delicate flesh. He raised his touch to her breast and squeezed. She yipped, trying to draw back, but she only managed to step back into a solid wall of warm muscle. She could tell he wasn't wearing a shirt. His skin was warm, and his chest had to be twice as broad as her back.

He pressed her wet naked body closer to him and she could feel coarse fabric rubbing against her ass. He moved closer and breathed in her ear. "What do you think?" he answered her.

"Please," she whimpered, her fear making her shake, "let me go."

He shook his head, his lips brushed her ear. "I don't think so."

Jonathon had been waiting for this moment for weeks. Finally, he had pretty little Amelia where he wanted her, vulnerable, naked, and beneath his touch.

He had watched her every day in the park for the last three months. Her natural sensuality was arousing to watch, and the way she deployed it shamelessly to achieve tips from gullible travellers on their first New York tour impressed him. She liked to flirt, even with him on occasion as he worked in the park with the horse drawn carriages. She used her body to shameless advantage, bending over to pick up purposely dropped flyers, short dresses despite the coming winter season. Low cut tops to display her breasts as if they were ripe fruit for the picking. Of course she never went any further than the flirting, even though he'd asked her out for drinks more than once. She was a blatant tease, never delivering on her promises.

He had promised himself he'd make her deliver one day. That day so happened to be now. He had watched her this afternoon, prancing around the park as if it were August and not October, in a short dress, high boots, and skimpy jacket. He just had to have her. So he followed her home, watched from the fire escape window as her roommate left for the night, and as she disappeared into the bathroom.

It was too easy to break in. Almost as if she were asking for it to happen. Once he'd heard her humming and the water running he knew that it was now or never.

He rubbed his hand from her breast to her hip. Her skin was still wet, but smooth as silk. She smelled glorious of vanilla and caramel, and soap. She squirmed beneath his grip. He didn't think she'd picked it as him yet, and could tell she was scared. Good.

He moaned at the sight of her. Even from behind her shape was amazing unclothed. Her pert ass was heart shaped, her thighs perfectly turned, her waist small. He moved his hand to her breast again and felt the weight of it in his hand. How long had he wished to do just this? He had already been hard the moment he heard the water turn on in the bathroom, but the feel of her under his touch made him go like rock. Her nipple was hardening against his palm and he drew back to pass his thumb over the stiff peak. She wriggled again in his arms, resisting his touch.

He tightened his grip around her throat and heard her gasp for breath. She struggled valiantly now, her fingernails clawing at him like a kitten's talons, stamping her feet and kicking wildly behind her.

She managed a kick to connect with his shin painfully. He moved his hand to smack her ass painfully hard three times. The water still on her skin made the spanking sound louder and firmer than it actually was, but he was sure it smarted like hell. Her pale ass cheek was already beginning to bloom red. She stopped struggling instantly.

"If you don't behave I will tan your hide," he breathed into her ear.

Her fear laboured breathing had turned into pants, and hesitantly she nodded. He gave her throat one last pulsing squeeze before he let go and curled his fingers in her hair. "You must be getting cold. How about I help you out of the shower?"

He pulled back on her hair and she stumbled back to follow his tug. Carefully, but with no less force, he manipulated her out of the shower cubicle without having her turn around and see his face. He pushed her toward the vanity, and wedged her up against it. He noticed her frantically look up at the mirror, trying to catch a glimpse of him behind her but the shower steam had fogged the mirror too much. He tightened his hand in her hair and took a slight step back to peruse her body again.

He groaned and ran a light fingertip touch down her spine. "You really are an artwork aren't you?" He grabbed a handful of her reddened ass cheek. "I quite like the colour red on you."

Amelia winced. His hands were so big half her ass filled in one palm. She trembled at the thought of him deploying them to redden her more. Her heart thumped so fast in her throat she thought it would choke her.

Damn the hot water. If she didn't have such a hot shower the mirror wouldn't have steamed and she'd see who the bastard was. His intimidating warmth had left her back as he stepped back. His grip in her hair had loosened slightly. Perhaps, she could turn her head?

She tried but before she could go any further than catching a glimpse of a tall masculine figure in her periphery he had shoved her forward into the bathroom counter. The cold stone bench top bit into her stomach just above her navel. She caught the edge of the vanity to avoid being crushed into it by his weight.

"Let me go."

"No." She could hear the smile in his voice; it made her blood boil and rage.

"Let me go, you bastard." She pushed back off the bench with all her might and stomped on what she hoped was his foot. But her efforts only managed to bump him back a step and elicit a roar of pain from him before he caught up her wrists and held them crossed against her back.

"You'll regret that." He growled. She could feel his breath against her neck, and it made her skin prickle and all the hairs on her arms rise.

With a strength he had been hiding until now, he shoved her forward into the vanity and forced her to bend over the bench. Fortunately, the vanity was deep enough she didn't knock her teeth out on the mirror before he shoved her head down until her chest met the cold surface of the stone. Her nipples instantly tightened against the cold, and she struggled to release her wrists from his grip behind her back.

One of his hands disappeared from her neck and she heard a whistle of air before it connected with her ass with an almighty crack.

"Ah!" she cried out.

Smack! He did it again and she screeched. Smack! Smack! Smack! He continued his harsh abuse on her ass until she felt as though her skin was on fire, and tears ran down her face.

When it was over he left his palm against her skin, enjoying the heat the now deep reddened skin gave off. He rubbed his hand over the handprints he'd left and she squirmed beneath him.

"Does that hurt?" he smirked. Teach her right. That was for all those times she had promised and not delivered, the terrible tease. He dipped his hand lower and felt along her cunt lips. They were damp, and not just because she'd just had a shower.

"Hmm, why are you wet here?" He slipped his finger between her lips and traced her slit, dipping in and teasing her. She surged against the vanity, trying to get away or get closer he couldn't tell, nor care. "You like this don't you?" He smiled. The fucking slut.

She shook her head vigorously. "No, no!"

He dipped his thumb further into her wet hole and fingered her clit. She mewled. "Yes, you do. You're dripping. Little slut."

She sobbed into the bench top. He started to finger her in earnest, all the while keeping up his relentless torture of her clit. She started to squirm beneath his grip, and he tightened his one handed hold on her wrists. Just before she fell over the peak he withdrew. The sound of her pitiful whimper made him grin. She had enjoyed that.

With his free hand, he attacked the button and zip at his jeans and released his rock hard cock. Slowly he passed a few long strokes along it as he watched her tremble from behind.

Amelia knew what must be coming. But God dammit her body was now crying out for it. She was panting with need and perspiring with shame. How could she be enjoying this? She shouldn't be enjoying this, and yet the feeling of his thick finger inside her and circling against her clit had brought her almost to the edge.

He kicked her feet apart, widening her stance. The vanity was tall and with her bending so far over it, she could only reach the floor with her toes.

"I am going to pound you to a pulp," he growled and entered her in one long stroke. She cried out at the intrusion. He was larger than her last partner was and her body struggled to stretch to accommodate him. Her fingers clenched and she squirmed under his grip.

He pulled out and pushed back in with force, using her wrists in his grip as leverage.

"You fucking slut," he groaned, slamming back into her. His hips making a smacking sound as they met her ass. She cried out when he moved. Her nipples, hard as pebbles, scraped against the cold stone bench top.

"Yes, take it." He pounded her with relentless energy, and she whimpered on every stroke, as her climax drew nearer and nearer. He released her hands and moved his grip to her wet hair. He pulled at it, making her arch off the vanity to avoid the pain. He still pulled painfully on her hair but now her back had met his hard chest, her breasts bounced with every smack of his thighs against hers and with every drive of his cock into her cunt she rose off her toes. He wrapped an arm around her and squeezed her breast in his hand. She cried out when he pinched her nipple cruelly. His other hand released his painful grip on her hair and delved down in front of her and tweaked her clit.

She looked up and found the fogged mirror had finally cleared and she stared into the reflection over her shoulder and into his eyes. Such familiar eyes. She choked on a gasp between her panting. It was Jonny! Sweet and unassuming Jonny that managed the horse drawn carriage tours.

His eyes hardened when they met hers. He thrust especially hard into her, causing her to whimper.

"Take it you fucking tease. You deserve it." At his nasty words she came, fast and hard. Her climax squeezing around him like a vice. She groaned long and loud, before turning limp in his arms.

He stepped back with a guttural moan and let her collapse onto the bathroom vanity. He was still rock hard and willing to continue. She laid her head on the stone bench top and sighed.

"Oh no you don't." He grabbed her elbow and towed her to her feet. When she resisted he smacked her ass hard three times and she squealed. He took a fistful of her damp hair again and brought her to her feet.

Shoving her out the doorway, he towed her into the closest bedroom before throwing her onto the bed. "I'm not done with you yet."