Chapter 110: Rainfall
Ryan didn’t give her a chance to argue.
He shifted his weight, rolling his hips and lifting her effortlessly off his chest. Zara gasped, her arms wrapping tight around his neck as he stood up from the bed, carrying her flush against his body.
Her bare legs locked around his waist instinctively.
"Ryan," she breathed, laughing softly against his ear. "I’m heavy."
"You weigh nothing," he grunted, adjusting his grip on the soft, bare flesh of her ass.
He carried her out of the bedroom and down the short, shadowed hallway of the penthouse. The master bathroom was a sprawling, cavernous cathedral of dark marble and brushed steel.
A massive, freestanding soaking tub sat near the window, but Ryan bypassed it entirely, walking straight toward the walk-in glass shower enclosure that took up the entire far wall.
He reached out blindly, hitting the heavy steel valve.
Water immediately thundered down from the massive rainfall showerhead bolted to the ceiling. Steam billowed instantly, thick and white, curling against the cold dark marble and fogging the glass walls within seconds.
Ryan stepped into the enclosure, carrying Zara directly into the deluge.
The shock of the hot water hitting their skin drew a sharp, high cry from her throat. Her dark hair plastered instantly to her skull, slicking down her back in thick, heavy wet ropes.
The water sluiced over her shoulders, cascading down the swell of her breasts and running in fast rivulets over his chest.
He pressed her back against the wet, freezing marble wall.
Zara gasped at the contrast of the burning water and the icy stone. She looked up at him, water streaming down her face, her eyelashes clumped and heavy.
She looked feral. Completely stripped of the glamorous, airbrushed perfection the world demanded of her.
Ryan crushed his mouth against hers.
It was a bruising, desperate collision. The water pounded relentlessly against their heads, drowning out the sound of the city entirely, isolating them in a roaring, steaming vacuum.
Zara opened her mouth instantly, her tongue sliding wet and hot against his. She tasted of clean water and raw, blinding need.
He kissed her like he was trying to consume her, his hands sliding up the slick, wet marble to grip her wrists. He pinned her hands flat against the stone above her head.
"I want you so bad," Ryan growled against her lips, his breathing ragged over the roar of the shower.
"Go ahead, I’m yours to take," she sobbed back, completely surrendering to the absolute, physical dominance he wielded over her.
Ryan released her wrists, his hands dropping to her waist. He gripped her thighs, lifting her slightly higher against the marble wall to adjust her angle.
The water made their skin impossibly slick, frictionless.
He didn’t tease. The agonizing pressure building in his groin demanded immediate, brutal execution.
He guided the thick, heavy head of his cock to her soaking wet entrance and drove his hips forward in one smooth, violent thrust.
Zara screamed his name, her head throwing back against the marble with a sharp crack.
She was impossibly tight, her walls clenching and spasming around the intrusion, milking him with a frantic, desperate heat that the hot water couldn’t wash away.
"Fuck," Ryan snarled, his jaw locking tight.
He established a punishing, relentless rhythm. He pulled back until the tip nearly slipped free, then slammed his hips forward, burying himself to the absolute hilt.
The wet, heavy slap of his pelvis hitting her thighs echoed sharply against the marble, a rhythmic, filthy percussion cutting through the sound of the falling water.
Zara’s legs clamped around his waist like iron bands. Her heels dug brutally into the small of his back, anchoring herself to the impact, begging him silently to drive deeper.
"Look at me," Ryan commanded, his voice a low, gravelly scrape.
She forced her heavy, water-logged eyes open. The steam curled around her face, her breathing coming in jagged, fractured gasps.
He slammed into her again, grinding his pelvis upward to crush her swollen clit between their bodies.
Zara cried out, a broken, helpless sound, her nails carving desperate, stinging tracks into the wet skin of his shoulders.
"You’re perfect," Ryan growled, his thumbs digging hard into the soft flesh of her hips, leaving bruises that would last for days.
Zara sobbed, completely unraveled. The polished, guarded supermodel was incinerated, leaving only the woman writhing and begging under the hot spray.
"Ryan... harder. Please, I can’t—I’m going to—"
"Do it," he ordered, leaning his full weight into her, pinning her completely against the stone. He kept his thrusts deep and grinding, refusing to let up the pressure.
Her climax hit her like a derailed freight train.
Zara’s back arched violently away from the marble, her entire body locking into a rigid, shuddering bow.
A raw, guttural scream ripped from her throat, swallowed instantly by the roaring water. Her inner walls clamped down on his cock with terrifying, agonizing force, milking him in a rapid succession of tight, brutal spasms.
The sheer intensity of her orgasm shattered the last fragments of Ryan’s control.
He drove his hips forward one final, desperate time, burying himself as deep as anatomically possible.
He groaned, a deep, animalistic sound tearing from his chest, and erupted. He flooded her with thick, hot, pulsing heat, his hands gripping her wet hair, holding her face inches from his as he spilled into her.
They stayed locked together against the wall, their chests heaving, struggling to pull oxygen back into their lungs. The hot water pounded over them, washing away the sweat, leaving only the raw, flushed heat of their entangled bodies.
Ryan slowly, carefully eased his hips back, slipping free from her tight core.
Zara’s legs instantly gave out. She slid down the marble wall, but Ryan caught her, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist, supporting her dead weight.
He held her flush against his chest, burying his face in her wet hair, just breathing her in.
She rested her forehead against his sternum, her hands weakly gripping his biceps.
The storm had passed. The adrenaline was gone, leaving a heavy, grounded peace in its wake.
Ryan reached up, turning the heavy steel valve. The water sputtered and died, plunging the massive marble bathroom into a sudden, dripping silence.
He grabbed a thick, heated towel from the warming rack and wrapped it securely around Zara’s shivering shoulders.
He scooped her up into his arms, carrying her out of the fogged-out enclosure and back into the cool, quiet safety of the bedroom.
As he laid her down on the mattress, he looked at her face. The anxiety, the exhaustion, the heavy burden of her public life—it was all wiped clean.
She looked incredibly peaceful.