Page 45 of Dead Serious Case 4 Professor Prometheus Plume

“What can I say? I’m a giver.” I grin and step under the water. Picking up the products on the shelf, I sniff them one by one. “Ooh, this one smells nice.”

Danny slips into the shower behind me and wraps himself around me. I lift the bottle of body wash over my shoulder and hold it to his nose.

“Smells good.” He nuzzles his face into where my neck meets my shoulder, knowing it’s a ticklish spot.

“Stop it,” I snigger as I turn in his arms to face him.

He backs me up until I’m under the water, tilting my head back to soak my hair before reaching for the shampoo. This is a thing he does; he loves washing my hair for me and it feels really good, so who am I to argue?

My groan as he massages my scalp echoes in the tiled room, sounding loud and filthy even to my own ears. Not wanting to be outdone since I had been the one promising bad things, I pour some of the body wash into my hands and begin soaping up his gloriously muscled shoulders and arms. I move my hands down to his chest and lazily glide my fingers through his chest hair to form swirls and patterns with the foam.

I skim my fingers down his stomach and grip his cock. One lazy stroke and it thickens against my palm. He hums in pleasure and leans in to take my mouth as I glide his foreskin back and circle my thumb over the sensitive head.

The shampoo slides down my back as he abandons my hair to grip the back of my neck with one hand, the other palming my arse cheek so he can pull me in closer.

His tongue tangles with mine and the air around us heats. I stroke his cock firmly, the way I know he likes it.

The water sluices down over us, soapy bodies slick and tingling. I pull back and gasp as his hand skims over my hip and heads for my cock. We’re surrounded by a warm, languorous cocoon of indulgence and I feel myself melting into the pleasure until suddenly, the water turns freezing cold.

I let out a scream shrill enough to shatter glass as we’re pelted with icy, hard shards of water. It probably sounds like I’m being murdered. Our feet slip under us as Danny fumbles for the water controls, but they won’t budge. We scramble to get our balance while the arctic water pounds down on my skull and shampoo streams into my eyes. Danny tries to get a grip on me, but we simply crash into one another instead.

Danny lets out a yell and falls backwards out of the shower, still holding onto me. We both hit the floor, which is only marginally padded by a thin bath mat and our discarded clothes. I land on top of Danny, sending the air whooshing from his lungs. Rolling off him so he can breathe, I hit the floor on my back.

We lay there panting heavily and covered in body wash and shampoo. My eyes are streaming and Danny is wheezing like Darth Vader.

I grab the nearest thing I can find to wipe my eyes on, grateful that it feels like a T-shirt rather than our discarded underwear.

“Are you alright?” I blink, my eyes still stinging and my vision blurred from not wearing my glasses.

“I’m fine,” Danny gasps out, clearly still winded.

My head drops back against the floor with a groan. “I’m beginning to understand why they don’t seem to have any guests here.”

“I think you may have perforated my eardrum.” He rubs his ear and winces. “That scream would have made Fay Wray proud.”

I manage to get Danny off the floor, but as I ease my hand gingerly back under the spray and fiddle with the knobs, the water doesn’t warm back up significantly. With a gasp, I stick my head under the cold water just long enough to wash most of the shampoo out of my hair but, not being brave enough to fully immerse my shivering body again, I wipe the rest of the suds from my body with a big, fluffy towel. Scooping the dirty clothes off the floor, I step back into the bedroom. Danny stays in the bathroom and tries to get the shower to work enough to wash the soap off his body.

My stomach lets out a loud growl so I lift my case onto the bed and open it up to rummage for something to wear to dinner. Ten minutes later, I’m standing in front of the full-length mirror in my black skinny jeans and a dark blue button-down shirt. After I’d gotten dressed I’d given in and blow-dried my hair in an effort to warm up from the ice shower. I usually like to let it dry naturally because the dryer always results in my wild, curly mop of hair becoming completely untameable. I blow out a resigned breath and stare at my reflection. I guess I’m going for the mad-scientist look tonight.

I’m about to go in search of Danny when I feel a familiar prickling across my skin. My already curly hair slowly rises with static.

Oh fuck.

I see a flicker at the corner of my eye and duck just as a spark of electricity hits the metal frame of the mirror and leaves a blackened and smoking scorch mark.

“Terry,” I hiss as he appears next to me. “What are you doing here?”

Before he can open his mouth, a slightly frazzled and extremely pissed-off Dusty appears next to him.

“Sorry, Tris, darling. He got away from me.” Dusty glares at Terry.

“What is going on, Terry?” I snap, annoyed at nearly being electrocuted for the second time. “You’re supposed to be on the other side of the light by now.”

“I know,” Terry whines, “but it looks so boring. I don’t want to cross over. I’ve decided I have too much living to do.”

“But you’redead,” I remind him.

“I told him that.” Dusty taps the toe of her blingy stiletto against the floor impatiently, hands on her hips.