Chapter 92 MY STEPSON WANTS ME PART 15

Chapter 92 MY STEPSON WANTS ME PART 15
Marie’s POV
But he wasn’t angry or impatient. He was just watching me with that same dark desire, mixed with something softer, something that made my chest ache. He nodded faintly, a silent way of telling me it was okay.
My fingers fumbled at his belt. The sound of metal clicking as I unfastened it echoed strangely loud over the steady fall of water. My breath came faster, uneven, as I slid the belt free. My whole body trembled, not from fear but from the heavy anticipation hanging between us.
I tugged at the button of his jeans, finally undoing it after a clumsy moment, and then eased the zipper down. Every motion felt slow, deliberate, like time itself was stretching, waiting for me to decide what I would do next.
When I started to push the denim down his hips, his hands came to mine—not to stop me, but to steady me. His touch was so warm, even with the water running between us, like his fingers were guiding me, giving me courage. He didn’t rush me or push me. He just let me take my time, as if he wanted me to know this was my choice.
The fabric was heavy, clinging to his skin because of the water. It took effort, my fingers tugging and sliding down his strong hips until the jeans finally gave way, sliding down his thighs and pooling at his feet. My breath caught in my throat. I couldn’t look away from him now, standing tall in front of me, his body dripping with water, muscles flexing as he moved just slightly under the spray.
The whole bathroom felt like it had shrunk. The steam curled around us, filling the air, but it wasn’t the heat of the shower that made my skin burn—it was the heat coming off him, the way his body seemed to pull me closer without even touching me.
I lifted my eyes slowly, afraid and nervous but unable to resist. When I reached his face, my breath stilled in my chest. His eyes—those blue eyes—were darker now, almost stormy with desire, but beneath all that intensity was something gentler. Something that looked like… adoration. It was like he was telling me without words that I was beautiful, that I was wanted, that I was his.
The weight of that look made my knees weak. My chest rose and fell too fast, my breath shaky. I whispered in my head that I wanted to give him something back, to please him the way he had made me feel pleasure for the first time in my life.
When I finally let my gaze drop lower, I gasped softly. He was hard, thick, and proud, his length veined and glistening with water. The sight of him made my stomach twist and heat bloom between my legs, so strong I almost squeezed my thighs together to hold it in. My mouth watered, and I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning just from looking at him.
“God…” the word slipped from me without meaning to, so soft he might not have heard it.
I leaned forward, unable to stop myself. My lips pressed against his chest first, tasting the water running down his skin. His chest was warm, strong, the kind of chest I wanted to rest against forever. I kissed lower, my lips trembling but growing braver with each touch. Down his stomach, over the ridges of his abs, the faint lines that disappeared into the towel of steam at his waist.
My hands clung to his hips to steady myself. My heart pounded in my ears as I sank lower, slowly, until my knees met the cold tile of the shower floor. The chill bit into my skin, but I barely noticed it, too caught up in the moment.
The steam from the shower surrounded us, wrapping us in a world that felt cut off from everything else. The water poured down his body in steady streams, dripping from his hair and sliding down the hard lines of his chest before trailing over the ridges of his stomach. I was kneeling on the wet tiles, my knees slick against the floor, and when I tilted my head back to look at him, my whole breath caught.
He was towering over me, his broad shoulders shadowed in the mist, droplets clinging to his skin like they didn’t want to let go. His blue eyes burned down into me, darker than I had ever seen them, filled with want but also something gentler—something that made my chest ache. It wasn’t just lust. It was hunger, yes, but hunger mixed with care, like every part of him wanted me, not just my body.
“Jamie…” I whispered, my voice weak from the heat, from the way my own pulse thundered inside me.
His hand came down slowly, brushing my soaked hair away from my face. My wet strands stuck to my cheek, and his thumb lingered there, so soft, so tender, as though I might break if he wasn’t careful. That touch made me shiver harder than the coldest wind ever could. He was looking at me like I was something sacred, and that look almost undid me right then and there.
The water beat down on us, loud against the tiles, but the only sound I really heard was the roughness of his breathing. My lips trembled as I leaned closer, pressing soft kisses to the drops of water that ran down his stomach, tasting him with every inch I moved lower. My whole body was trembling, from the heat of the shower, from the need swelling inside me, from the forbidden thrill of being here with him.
When I reached him, I wrapped my lips around his hardened length, taking him into my mouth slowly. His taste mixed with the water, salty and warm, and my core clenched at the sound of his moan, deep and raw. The sound of it made my skin prickle with heat, made me want to give him more.
The taste of him mixed with the faint salt of the water, strange but intoxicating. I took him into my mouth, slow at first, my tongue exploring, pressing, sliding as I began to suck gently.
His reaction was instant. His head tipped back slightly, a groan torn from his throat that echoed in the steamy shower. The sound sent shivers racing through me. His moans were rough, low, filled with raw want—and they only made me hungrier.
I sucked harder, my mouth working over him, my hands resting on his thighs for balance as the water streamed down between us. His fingers slid into my hair, tangling through the wet strands, gripping just tight enough to hold me. The warm tug against my scalp sent sparks through me, making me moan around him.
The vibration made him curse under his breath.
The more he moaned, the more I felt my own arousal gush between my legs, soaking me even though I was already drenched from the water. The steam made it feel hotter, tighter, like the whole bathroom was burning with the heat we were creating.
He held my head steady as I worked on him, my lips sliding, my tongue swirling, my throat tightening as he pushed deeper. Every sound he made only turned me on more, made me feel powerful and weak at the same time. I wanted to give him everything, to take all of him, to drown in the way he was losing control above me.
I kept sucking him, my lips sliding up and down his length while the hot water poured over both of us, running down my face and body. The sound of the shower mixed with his rough groans, filling the small space like a secret rhythm only we shared. His fingers tangled tighter in my wet hair, guiding me gently but with need, pulling me closer each time he thrust deeper into my mouth.
My jaw ached, but I didn’t care. The taste of him, the way his hips trembled every time my tongue swirled around him, made me want to keep going. I wanted to give him everything, to make him lose control completely with me. The water ran down his stomach and onto my lips, blending with the salty taste of him, and I swallowed it all down greedily.
“God… don’t stop,” he groaned, his voice low and broken.