Chapter 90: bathroom treat

Chapter 90: Chapter 90: bathroom treat

Inside the bathroom Amelia pressed her back against the closed door for a second, with her eyes shut.

No. He’s just some handsome-looking biatch. That’s all. I shouldn’t be thinking about that.

Her mind went there anyway, wondering what the rest of him would have looked like beneath the towel.

She shook her head hard, as if she could physically dislodge the image, then began stripping out of her clothes. The shower was already warm when she stepped under the spray.

Everything in the bathroom was perfectly ordered. Bottles aligned. Towels folded like it was ironed. Not a single item out of place.

Does he have some kind of OCD?

She worked shampoo through her hair, then rinsed her face, letting the water run down her skin while the heavier thoughts returned.

Is it actually possible they’re my destined mates?

True fated mates were rare—almost unheard of in the present age. And if they were hers, shouldn’t the bond have made itself known by now?

Or had something been actively blocking the recognition on both sides?

Or maybe they aren’t at all.

She groaned softly and tilted her face fully into the spray.

If she had known from the beginning that these men were her mates, the fear would have been far worse.

Being both their mistress and their mate, trapped under their power for eternity, forced to carry their heirs—she might have found the courage to end things herself rather than face that future.

Things happen for a reason, she told herself.

The men had changed toward her, even if only slightly. The feeling of terror she once felt around them had dulled.

And now her mind kept drifting back to them— to the memory of their mouths, the weight of their hands on her body, the way a single touch could leave her overheated and restless.

She pressed her palms over her breasts, feeling the tight, sensitive peaks of her nipples against her wet skin, and a low, reluctant pulse of heat answered between her legs.

Wilder thoughts slipped in her mind.

The ceremony. The way their mouths and hands had worked over her. How easily her body had betrayed her every single time.

Her hand slid down her stomach, hesitating only a second before reaching between her thighs. She swallowed hard, trying to cool the ache—only for her leg to jerk the moment her fingers brushed her clit.

Fuck.

She was soaked, and it had nothing to do with the shower.

Amelia bit down on her lower lip and began rubbing slow circles over the swollen bud, her other hand still teasing one tight nipple. A soft, needy sound threatened to escape; she trapped it behind her teeth.

Gosh... it feels too good.

She knew she should stop. She told herself to stop. Instead her fingers moved faster, pressing harder, chasing the heat that kept climbing.

It felt filthy. Obscene. Standing naked in Enzo’s shower, touching herself while thinking about the three of them—and she couldn’t make herself pull away. The pleasure was too sharp, too greedy.

She rubbed her clit in tighter, wetter strokes, imagining it was their fingers instead of her own. Thicker. Rougher. More controlling.

The fantasy hit hard: the way they had looked down at her while their mouths claimed her, cold eyes dark with something that wasn’t quite indifference.

Fuck... it would feel so much better if it was them.

Her hips rocked against her own hand, water streaming down her flushed body as the need coiled tighter and tighter between her legs.

She was so close.

Fingers moved faster, more desperate, chasing the sharp edge of release. Her breath came in short, uneven bursts against the spray.

Almost there... I’m so close... so close—

Ugh... yes—

A firm knock against the bathroom door shattered the moment.

Amelia jerked hard, feet nearly sliding out from under her on the wet tile. She caught herself against the wall, heart slamming.

"You’re taking a rather long time in there," Enzo’s voice came through the door, calm and faintly amused.

Fuck.

She had completely forgotten the hour.

Amelia shut off the water with shaking hands, cleaned herself quickly, and stepped out of the shower. Only then did the second problem hit her.

She had never brought fresh clothes inside.

This is bad.

The only option left was the thick towel robe hanging on the back of the door. She pulled it on, belted it tightly, and cracked the bathroom door open just enough to show her face.

"I need fresh clothes."

Enzo stood a few steps away, already dressed in a dark shirt, grey eyes moving over what little of her he could see.

"If I didn’t know any better," he said slowly, voice dropped. "I’d think you were in there making the most of my shower."

Amelia’s face burned. She pressed her thighs together beneath the robe, the unfinished ache still pulsing between them, and shot him a sharp look.

"I don’t have time for you. Give me the clothes."

He walked to the bed, where a neat stack of outfits had already been prepared for her. He sat down on the edge of the mattress, the outfit resting beside his thigh.

"You’ll have to come get them yourself," he said. "Time’s ticking. You’re getting close to thirty minutes."

Amelia had nochoice.

She stepped out of the bathroom as quickly, snatched the clothes from the bed without meeting his eyes, and hurried back inside.

Enzo remained seated, gaze lingering on the closed bathroom door.

An annoying, pleasant thought settled in his mind.

Seeing her naked shouldn’t have been a big deal. He had seen plenty of women without clothes. Yet the idea of her—wet, flushed, only a few steps away—sent a low thrill through him that he didn’t bother to suppress.

She consumes me.

His cock reacted immediately, hardening against the fabric of his trousers until the pressure became impossible to ignore. He unfastened them and freed himself with a quiet breath of relief.

It hurt to keep it confined. That was the only excuse he allowed himself.

This wasn’t like him. But its like everyday the more he is with her, the more the restraints he have becomes non existent.

His hand wrapped around his length, stroking slowly at first, savoring the thick heat and the way it twitched in his palm.

The image Amelia on her knees between his spread thighs, looking up at him with those wide, conflicted eyes while her mouth stretched around his cock filled his mind. Soft lips sliding down, tongue working along the underside, taking him deeper until her throat fluttered and tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.

Fuck.

He wanted to fist a hand in her hair and guide her exactly how he liked it—slow and deep, then faster when she started to struggle so prettily. He wanted to watch her choke on him, wanted to feel her try to take every inch while her hands braced against his thighs. He wanted her completely wrecked and still desperate for more.

His strokes quickened, grip tightening as the fantasy sharpened.

I’d bend her over this bed and fuck her until she couldn’t walk straight. I’d make her come on my cock while she still tried to pretend she didn’t want it. Then I’d fill her so deep she’d feel me for days.

The pleasure coiled at the base of his spine. He was close—so close—

The bathroom door opened.

Enzo’s head tipped back slightly, a rough sound tearing from his throat.

"Fuck... Amelia—"