Shower

Emily shut the bedroom door behind her and leaned back against it, listening for any sound from the rest of the house. Nothing but the quiet murmer of Tasha and the baby through the door. Tasha hadn’t followed. Jason wouldn’t be home until late.

She had time.

The blazer came off first — hot and tight and clinging. The torn blouse peeled away next, damp in places, crumpled where she’d clutched it to her chest. Her skirt slid down last, the insides darkened with the visible trail of Eli’s cum still leaking from her.

She gathered the mess into her arms — at the moment just a bundle of used, soaked, wrinkled cloth — and made her way to the laundry closet in the hall.

She lifted the lid of the hamper and shoved the whole armful deep, jamming it down under towels, jeans, anything already inside. One hand pressed, burying the evidence until it vanished beneath layers of old clothes. The panties, of course, weren’t there — still tucked into Eli's hoodie as a gifted trophy.

She shut the lid and padded into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

Steam filled the air as she twisted the knob and stepped into the shower, the first hit of hot water drawing a sigh from her lips. Her skin felt electric — overstimulated and raw — as the stream washed over her breasts, her belly, her thighs.

The water ran down in cloudy streaks, trailing between her legs and into the drain.

She tipped her head back and let it all wash down — but the memories didn’t go anywhere.

The day had spiraled out of control in the best, most dangerous way. It started with the taco truck incident and ended with a library fuck session that left her dripping into her work clothes.

She thought about Martin — the way his eyes went wide when her blazer burst open in his office, the way she never stopped talking, never lost her cool. She’d leaned back, exposed and composed, and still walked out with what she needed.

Her hand trailed slowly between her legs.

Then Eli. Nervous Eli, with his eyes so hungry and his voice shaking when he’d begged her to let him cum. She could still hear him panting against her neck, feel his hands on her hips, the wet heat inside her when she finally did.

Her breath hitched.

She braced a hand against the slick tile and slipped her fingers lower, her body already throbbing. The water masked the sound of her moan, but she felt it deep in her chest.

What if someone had seen?
What if she'd done the same with Martin?
What if she'd let Eli fuck her bent over the study desk with the window wide open?

Her thighs clenched tighter.

So many ways it could’ve gone.
So many ways it could in the future.