Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

to. “What the hell are you doing?” I whisper. “Get out. Now.”
I reach for my towel to cover myself, but in one swift movement, she
pulls hers off of her body and knocks my hand away all in the same shot. I
stare down at her naked body, and the wind leaves my lungs. My chest caves,
and I barely notice her backing me into the wall as she tips her head back and
wets her hair. Streams of water cascade down her golden skin, and I can’t
breathe as it spills over her breasts and drips off the hard, little points. My clit
pulses as I hate her all over again.
She meets my eyes, smoothing back her hair, and approaches me until her
nipples brush mine. I can’t think, and I can’t swallow.
“Maybe these separate shower stalls your bigot mother had put in weren’t
such a bad idea, after all,” she says.
I watch as she tips her head back, opens her mouth, and places it under
the stream, filling it with water. The pulse between my legs pounds so hard, I
almost groan.
She kisses me, opening her mouth, the warm water spilling inside and
down my chin and neck, and I lick my lips, thirsty for more, because tasting
what she tasted makes me go mad. I throb down low, my body beating like a
drum. I whimper, about to fucking come when she pulls away.
My lip quivers, and I can’t find my words for a minute. “G—Get out,” I
tell her.
But she doesn’t. Grabbing the showerhead off the hook, she sticks it
between my legs, and I gasp, stopping just short of crying out.
“Ah,” I moan. I cup her face and hold her to me, almost in tears it feels so
good. “Liv…”
The spray pulsates over me, and I’m already too close to stop it. I hold
onto her, her forehead pressed into mine as she watches what she does to me,
and my orgasm crests, so wound up it takes no time for her to get me there.
Heat floods my stomach, my thighs shake, my knees go weak, and I hear
voices and lockers slamming shut just as I cover my mouth with my hand and
scream.
Fuck. I shake, and I don’t know if I’m crying or what, because it feels so
good.
“You don’t feel with him what you feel with me,” she whispers. “Do
you?”
I shudder and grip her, every muscle clenched, and I can’t stand it.
Nothing feels like this. Nothing. “I hate you,” I murmur in her ear.