Ray didn't last.
His whole body locked, a raw sound ripping out of him as he came hard, shooting up his own stomach and chest in thick stripes. The second pulse jumped higher. Almost hit his mouth. Almost painted his face. He jerked back too late, breath wrecked, cock still twitching in the wet space between her feet while the shower washed some of it down in cloudy streaks.
Milady burst out laughing.
Not cute. Not shy. That villain laugh, bright and nasty, like she'd been waiting for the exact mess.
"Oh my god. You shot yourself." She kept her feet on him, squeezing through the last pulses. "Look at you. Came up your own chest like an amateur. Almost got your face too. That's art."
Ray's head dropped forward. "Shut… shut up."
"No." She laughed again, delighted. "That was pathetic. You sat there talking like a player and then painted your own nipples. Say thank you."
"I'm not saying that."
