Chapter 52: The Room Didn’t Survive [M]

Ilya lifted her body easily and Summer wrapped her legs around his waist. The head of his cock pressed against her wet entrance.

For a second they just looked at each other through the steam, foreheads touching. Then Ilya pushed into her slowly until he was buried all the way inside her.

They both groaned as he began moving in deep, controlled thrusts with water still pouring over them.

Every stroke dragged against the same sensitive places his fingers had found earlier.

Summer clung to his shoulders, kissing him messily between gasps, whether it was his mouth, his jaw, or the side of his throat.

Ilya’s metal hand stayed under her ass, holding her open for him. The warm one braced against the glass beside her head.

He pounded into her deeply for a long time. Hips rolling in a steady rhythm that kept her hovering right on the edge again.

When her inner walls started clenching around him, he reached between their bodies and found her clit with his thumb, rubbing circles in time with his thrusts.

"Ilya—Ah!" Summer came a second time with a broken sound against his neck.

Ilya also reached his orgasm a few strokes later. He immediately buried himself deep and spilled his seed inside her. He growled and groaned, like an animal in heat.

His forehead dropped to her shoulder. His arms tightened around her as he spilled more of his seed into her.

Without even realizing what she was doing, Summer suddenly bit down on the side of his neck. But before Summer could pull back and see what she had done, Ilya pulled her back into another kiss.

Summer could only hold onto him again, as if he had become her lifeline.

A moment later, she felt Ilya’s manhood harden again inside her, still buried deep, and he began thrusting into her once more.

This time he didn’t start slow. He gripped her tighter, while his metal hand digging into the soft flesh of her ass while his warm one braced against the glass, and drove into her with harder, deeper strokes.

The wet sound of their bodies meeting mixed with the rush of water and the low, rough sounds he made against her mouth.

Summer gasped into the kiss. Every thrust pushed her higher against the wall, her breasts pressed to his chest, so her nipples dragging against his skin with every movement.

The leftover heat from guiding still burned under her skin, making every slide of his manhood feel sharper, hotter, almost too much.

She clung to his shoulders, nails digging in, and kissed him back messily; biting his lower lip, sucking on his tongue, anything to keep herself grounded while he pounded her through the aftershocks of her last orgasm.

Ilya broke the kiss only long enough to growl against her ear, "You’re still so tight."

Then he angled his hips and thrust upward harder, hitting that same sensitive spot inside her over and over again. Summer’s head fell back against the glass as a broken moan slipped from her lips.

He kept pounding into her in a steady, relentless rhythm, with water cascading over both of them and steam thick around their bodies.

Every time she clenched around him, he groaned as if it only made him want more. His thumb found her clit again, rubbing it in circles that made her thighs shake around his waist.

"Ilya—fuck—" Summer’s voice cracked.

He kissed her again, swallowing the rest of the sound, and kept fucking her through it until her third orgasm of the round crashed over her hard enough to make her vision blur for a second.

Her walls twitched and squeezed around him, and this time Ilya followed almost immediately, burying himself to the hilt with a deep, guttural sound as he spilled inside her again.

They stayed locked together under the shower, breathing hard, with their foreheads pressed together.

Ilya’s arms didn’t loosen. He kept her pinned against the glass, his cock still twitching inside her, as if he wasn’t quite ready to let go yet.

Summer’s fingers slowly relaxed their grip on his shoulders.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Then Ilya shifted just enough to press a softer kiss against the corner of her mouth.

"I still don’t feel satisfied," he murmured between kisses.

"Same," Summer answered immediately.

Right after that, Ilya finally carried Summer into the massive bathtub and let it fill with water while they continued making out.

Summer sat on top of him, bouncing up and down as she took his manhood inside her.

She had spent three hours with Archer before, but this time, with Ilya and an entire private suite to themselves, neither of them seemed to care about time.

They made out in the bathtub, then went back to the shower, and after they cleaned themselves up, they did it again on the bed.

The towels around their bodies didn’t even last for more than five seconds.

Summer bent over at the edge of the bed with her feet on the floor while Ilya pounded his manhood into her vigorously until her legs wouldn’t stop shaking.

His hands couldn’t stay still either. They kept stimulating her clitoris and nipples one after another, and even his metal arm had a vibration function that immediately sent Summer to seventh heaven.

They didn’t stop until they had fucked and made out in almost every corner of the room.

By the time they finally slowed down, Summer’s whole body felt weak.

Her legs were shaking, her hair was a mess, the sheets were completely ruined, and the presidential suite looked less like a luxury hotel room and more like a disaster had passed through it.

Summer stared around the room for a few seconds, then she let out a tired laugh. "We’re definitely going to have to pay for this."

Ilya carried her to the bed, and they lay down together while catching their breath.

He stared at the white ceiling for a moment before saying, "It’s fine. This place belongs to my brother anyway."