Chapter 340: "Let’s Take A Shower" He Said, "We’ll Clean Up," He said (18+)

By the time Damien decided he’d had enough, the sheets were a lost cause.

He leaned back against the headboard, that smug calm washing over him...the kind you only get after thoroughly ruining someone before noon.

I looked down at the tangled mess we had made together, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction.

I was still in that dazed state of trying to remember how my damn legs were supposed to work when he swung his over the side of the bed, completely unconcerned about the fact that he was half-hard and covered in evidence from the morning.

"Come on, Sunshine." he said lazily, his voice warm. "You’re leaking all over my sheets. Time for a shower."

I shot him a glare from the mattress, which felt like the only solid ground left in the universe.

He watched me try to sit up, a smirk creeping onto his face.

The residual soreness from earlier turned every step across the polished floor into a reminder of just how thoroughly he had used me, and he knew it too.

He didn’t offer any help, instead following a half-step behind me as I made my way to the bathroom, clearly enjoying the view of me trying to keep some semblance of dignity while my body insisted dignity was off the table.

The penthouse bathroom was ridiculous, the kind of over-the-top only truly expensive spaces manage.

The shower was a glass enclosure large enough for a small dinner party, equipped with a rainfall showerhead that transformed the entire space into a warm waterfall as soon as Damien turned on the controls.

Opposite the glass, a full-length mirror reflected every detail of the room back at me, and I made the strategic mistake of looking into it long enough to see just how wrecked I already looked.

My hair was everywhere, with faint marks blooming across my throat and collarbones, and my thighs were still shaky.

Damien stepped in behind me, closing the glass door with a soft click that sealed us into the steam and the rushing water.

He grabbed the shampoo first, working it through my hair with slow, careful fingers, almost domestic, but then you remembered what those same hands had been up to less than an hour ago.

I shut my eyes under the warm cascade, trying not to lean into him like some needy plant craving sunlight. He rinsed the suds away and then soaped his hands, focusing on my shoulders and back, tracing my muscles with a quiet attention.

"You left so many marks on me last night... and today," he murmured, his voice almost lost under the sound of the water.

I leaned my head back against his chest just enough to answer. "You deserved every single one, asshole."

His fingers paused, tracing a particularly dark bruise I had left on his collarbone, a satisfied smirk spreading across his face. "Possessive little thing."

"Takes one to know one."

He made a low sound of agreement and continued washing me, gradually moving lower until his soapy hands slid over the curve of my ass.

At first, it felt like just regular care, the kind you give someone you know is sticking around.

But then his touch slowed, his thumbs pressing more purposefully between my cheeks, parting them just enough for the warm water to run over my already sensitive skin. I tensed without meaning to.

"Still so soft here... and a little swollen," he said, his voice low, as though he were conducting a scientific experiment rather than doing something much more intimate.

"Damien. You’re doing that on purpose."

"Doing what, baby?" His innocent tone was almost convincing, except for the way his fingers kept brushing against me with careful pressure.

I twisted enough to glare at him over my shoulder. "You’re deliberately trying to get me hard again, freak."

"I don’t know what you’re talking about."

He cut me off by wrapping that same soapy hand around my cock and giving it a slow, experimental stroke under the water.

The smug laugh that followed was pure satisfaction. "Oh. You mean this? Your body is still so greedy. Two rounds in and you’re already filling out in my hand again."

I muttered something unkind about his entire bloodline, but my traitorous cock continued rising against his palm.

He kept stroking me with that same unhurried rhythm, thumb sweeping over the head every few passes until I was fully hard and dripping again, the water doing nothing to hide the evidence.

I braced one hand against the glass wall, trying to sound less affected than I felt.

"You’re such an motherfucking asshole."

"And yet you’re getting harder."

He was right, which only made it worse. The combination of warm water, lingering soreness, and the certainty that he was going to do something about it had my pulse racing in a way that felt utterly unfair this early in the day.

Damien moved closer, pressing his chest to my back, his growing interest impossible to ignore against my spine.

One arm wrapped around me, hand still working my cock with lazy precision, while the other slid up my chest, fingers settling under my chin.

He turned us around until we faced the big mirror on the wall. Steam was starting to soften the edges of the glass, but it was still clear enough to catch every detail: the flush climbing my throat, the sight of my cock in his soapy fist, and the dark satisfaction on Damien’s face behind me.

"Look," he said simply.

"I don’t need to—"

His grip on my chin tightened just enough to keep my face pointed at the mirror. "Eyes on the mirror. I want you to see exactly what you look like."

I tried to look away on principle but couldn’t. Damien’s mouth found the side of my neck, his voice close to my ear while his hand continued its slow torture.

"Look how flushed you are. How your cock is already dripping again. You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re desperate."

Those words landed heavier than they should have. I watched my reflection react, saw my lips part and my eyes darken, the whole experience feeling obscenely intimate.

Damien kept me there for another long minute, stroking me and murmuring filthy observations about how we looked together until I was shifting restlessly against him, the water cascading down my back feeling like an extra set of hands.

He finally released my cock just long enough to grab the small bottle of waterproof lube he kept on the recessed shelf, because obviously, this bathroom was ready for scenarios like this.

The click of the cap echoed in the shower, and I felt the cool slickness against me a moment later, two of his fingers pressing inside with careful familiarity, checking how open I still was.

The stretch pulled a soft sound from me that the water only half-muffled.

"Still taking me so easily," he murmured against my temple, working those fingers deeper.

I would have protested if I could muster a coherent sentence. Instead, I braced my hands against the glass as he withdrew his fingers and replaced them with the blunt, slick head of his cock.

He didn’t push in immediately, holding himself there to let me feel the pressure and heat while his free hand returned to my chin, ensuring my eyes stayed on the mirror.

"Watch," he said, his voice rough with restraint. "Watch every inch disappear inside you."

He pressed forward in one smooth, controlled motion that robbed me of whatever breath I had left.

The mirror reflected everything: how my mouth fell open, the faint tremor in my arms, the slow stretch of my body as it accepted him until he was fully seated, the reflection appearing almost indecent.

Damien paused once he was buried deep, resting his forehead against the side of my head, breathing carefully as I adjusted to the familiar fullness.

"That’s it. Keep looking. See how well you take me? Look at how your hole stretches around my cock?"

"You’re... talking too much—"

He rolled his hips in a slow circle that sent stars bursting behind my eyes and cut off my protest.

"And you’re clenching like you love it. Look at your face. See how pretty you are with me inside you."

I couldn’t help it. I looked. The mirror made every sensation sharper and more public, even though we were the only two in the penthouse.

Damien began to move with purpose then, deep thrusts that kept most of his length buried inside, a rhythm designed to make sure I felt every ridge and inch while the water poured over us.

He guided my hands higher on the glass, then the other until I was fully braced and on display.

"Hands on the glass. Don’t hide from me."

I moaned his name without thinking and watched my reflection do the same. Damien’s gaze stayed locked on the mirror as he fucked me, his expression focused and darkly pleased, like he was committing the entire image to memory.

"Ah! D–Damien.... fuck...!"

The wet sounds of our bodies meeting mixed with the constant rush of the shower, and every time he bottomed out, the force of it sent fresh ripples of sensation through me that the mirror made impossible to ignore.

"That’s right. Say my name while you watch yourself get fucked. Look at you... bent over in my shower, taking every thrust like it was meant for you."

"It’s too much—"

He thrust harder, one hand sliding down to wrap around my cock again, stroking in sync with his deeper rhythm. "No it’s not, Oliver. You can take it, just look how your cock bounces with every thrust. Look how red your face is. You’re already dripping down the glass."

And I was. The evidence of my desire streaked the mirror in messy arcs every time his fist tightened around me, and the sight of it only tightened the heat coiling in my gut.

Damien’s voice dropped lower, dirtier, the words pressing against my ear between thrusts.

"You’re so fucking gorgeous, Oliver. The prettiest, most perfect thing I’ve ever seen. Completely mine too. This is what you look like when you belong to me."

After that, the pace shifted to harder and faster, still keeping me pinned in place so the mirror never lost its view.

Water cascaded down my back and between my cheeks, making everything slicker and louder. I could feel the exact moment my control began to slip; the tremble in my thighs, the throb of my cock in his grip, the way my reflection’s eyes turned glassy and wrecked while Damien appeared composed and fully in charge behind me.

"You’re getting tighter. You’re close, aren’t you?"

"Yes...Da...Damien, I can’t—"

His hand sped up, his thumb pressing just below the head with each upstroke. "Yes you can. Come while you watch yourself. I want to see your face when you break. Come on, Sunshine. Stain the mirror for me."

The command and the visual of my desperate expression did the rest. I came with a broken cry that echoed off the glass, my cock pulsing hard in his fist as thick ropes of come marked the mirror in messy white lines.

Damien kept fucking me through it, drawing out the orgasm until my legs felt ready to give out, the only thing keeping me upright being his arm secured around my waist and the solid heat of him buried inside me.

He didn’t stop. The minute the worst of the shaking eased, he shifted his grip to my hair, tilting my head so the mirror remained unavoidable, and drove into me with short, deep thrusts that made the overstimulation bloom sharp and electric.

"Keep watching. I’m going to fill you up while you look at yourself taking it."

"Damien... wait—! Shit!"

He ignored my half-formed protest, slamming home one final time and holding deep as he came with a low groan against my neck.

I felt every pulse of it, the warmth spilling inside me while the mirror revealed the exact moment his control finally cracked.

He remained buried through the aftershocks, breathing heavily against my wet skin, one hand gentle in my hair while the rest of him remained possessive and unyielding.

"Fuck... take it. Take every drop. Good boy... such a good boy for me. I love you so much..."

We stayed like that for a long time under the falling water, Damien’s arms wrapped securely around me since my legs had officially given out.

He pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses to my shoulder and the side of my neck, the earlier filth giving way to something softer and almost reverent.

"I’ve got you. Just breathe."

I managed a weak, breathless laugh against the glass. "You’re... never letting me rest, are you?"

His soft chuckle vibrated against my back. "Not if I can help it."

He kissed the damp skin just below my ear, his voice dropping into that lower, sincere register that always sounded both intimate and sincere at the same time. "You’re so beautiful like this. All mine. All fucked-out and soft, you’re lucky you’re a man. Would have fucked a baby or two into you already."

My eyes widened at his words, fucked a babyinto me?!

What the hell was going through this man’s head exactly?!

"...Asshole."

"Your asshole," he corrected without missing a beat, and the sheer predictability of his reply pulled another tired laugh from me.

He eased out carefully to ensure I could remain upright, then turned me under the spray and washed me again with slow, thorough hands, cleaning every trace of the mess we’d made while the water rinsed the evidence off the mirror in gradual streaks.

When he finally shut off the shower, the bathroom felt almost too quiet.

He dried me with the same focused attention he had shown in the water, wrapping a large towel around my waist before dealing with himself.

The whole process felt more like a quiet claim than post-sex cleanup. By the time we returned to the bedroom, my legs had mostly remembered how to work, though the lingering ache and warm, well-used feeling low in my body made sitting on the bed’s edge a small victory.

Damien dropped onto the mattress beside me, still damp and entirely unfazed by the fact that it was only mid-day and we had already ruined any chance of productivity.

He pulled me down against his chest without a word, one arm draped heavily around my waist, pressing a lazy kiss to the top of my head.

"The day’s still young," he murmured into my hair, the words carrying that familiar edge of promise. "Plenty of mirrors left in this place."

I closed my eyes, letting his solid warmth surround me, too thoroughly wrecked and content to even attempt a witty retort.

In the back of my mind, I was already calculating how many hours of actual adult responsibility I could reasonably ditch before anyone noticed, and the answer was looking longer by the minute.