The Ghost and the Shadow

Chapter 42 - El Sin Nombre 🌶

As I glance around the dark room, the only source of light comes from the bathroom, highlighting the vacant space besides me. The soft pitter patter of water hitting the shower floor fills the room.

I stretch out and slide out of bed, tiptoeing to the bathroom.

Ghost stands in the shower, his back facing me, and I can't help but admire him again.

I step into the shower, still clothed and wrap my arms around his back. The sensation of holding him is incredibly comforting.

"Sleep well?" he asks as his hands caress my forearms.

"I did, I always do next to you."

"Must be my peaceful nature," he jokes.

I chuckle, ''Hah, yeah that's definitely it."

He turns towards me and cups my face in his hands, pressing his lips to mine.

"You're getting me wet," I protest as we break from the kiss.

"That's the intention," he says, his eyes filled with desire.

I chuckle and smile seductively, my fingers tracing patterns over his skin.

"Your hands drive me crazy," he admits, his breathing becoming shallow.

"I can see that," I say with a smirk as my hands caress his lower stomach, moving closer to his most desirable feature.

He tuts, "You're intoxicating," and scoops me up in his arms. I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist and with his strong hold, he presses me against the shower wall.

As the warm water cascades over my face, I feel my wet shirt clinging to my body, accentuating the curves of my breasts. His lips trace a path down my neck and over my chest, igniting a fire within me and I wrap my arms around his back, drawing him in closer to me.

His lips trail down my body, and I take my shirt off, the warm water flowing over my bare skin.

As his face lowers, he helps me step out of my underwear and my stomach tenses at the thought of what's coming.

He lifts my legs and drapes them around his neck, the back of my thighs resting on his shoulders.

I throw my head back, as his familiar rough tongue circles me and I run my fingers through his wet hair.

As his movements become rougher and more demanding, I clasp my hand over my mouth to stifle the moans.

This is another thing I miss about England, there I could scream and moan to my heart's content, here, I can't make a sound.

His tongue and fingers work around me until a warm wave of ecstasy runs over me and I'm once again left squirming in his arms.

He snickers, his deep voice reverberating against me.

With my legs still around his neck, he stands up and slides me down until we're eye-level.

My ankles are still around his sculpted neck when he presses his forehead to mine, his breathing labored.

Without warning, he thrusts into me and I start to gasp, but the gasp is quickly silenced by his lips on mine.

His thrusts are rapid and unwavering, each one relentlessly hitting my most sensitive spot.

Neither of us last very long and his lips crash onto mine as we reach climax together.

It seems like every time we're intimate, it only gets better and better. Each orgasm surpasses the last one.