Chapter Twelve
Dylan
Every part of me wanted this. The part that was supposed to know better had lost the argument long ago. But wanting Sean and handing over control were two very different things.
“Please, Dylan.”
Fuck.
That word. My name. The way he said it, begging without shame.
I stepped into the shower, turning my face up to the warm rush of water as steam filled the space, closing us in.
Sean moved in behind me, not quite touching, but close enough that every nerve in my body sparked.
Then his hands were on my back, tracing down my spine.
Down, down until he hit the curve of my ass.
I tensed, anticipation coiling tight, but he didn’t go where I expected.
His hands reversed course, traveling back up in a slow, steady sweep.
When he reached my shoulders, he dug in, working deep circles into the muscle, and something in me gave.
My head dropped forward, the water hitting my crown, running down my face, and splashing on the tile at my feet.
His mouth found my neck, kissing a trail up to my ear. “Turn around for me,” he murmured. “Please.”
I turned, expecting the usual smirk or a wink. What I got instead knocked the air out of me. Raw want, no filter, just Sean stripped back to something real. Something fucking beautiful and, for this moment, mine.
I kissed him.
Hard and unwavering, I poured every ounce of pent-up need into his mouth. And he took it. He took it all, groaning as I devoured him with my lips, tongue, and teeth.
His hair was soft in my hand, his mouth yielding every time I pushed harder. Everything I gave, he matched with surrender.
I eased my grip, giving him room to explore the rest of me. His hands mapped their way down my chest, my stomach, dragging heat with them, and when his fingers grazed the base of my cock, he paused.
Our kiss broke apart, and he looked at me with such adoration, I nearly fucking lost it.
“Can I?” he whispered, his fingers stroking just above my shaft.
Fuck. “Yes, quit teasing me.”
His lips curved into a mischievous grin, but beneath it was pure desire. “Thank you.” He kissed me once and dropped to his knees.
I sucked in a breath as his big hands wrapped around me, firm and steady.
His head dipped forward, the spray from the shower hitting his copper hair, his mouth landing on my stomach.
The scratch of his beard contrasted the soft glide of his lips as he kissed over my abs, my hip, the inside of my thigh.
The tension in my body climbed, every muscle winding tighter, until his tongue traced up my shaft and he took me in his mouth.
The air left my lungs. My hand hit the wall with a sharp slap, fingers splayed, holding me upright because my legs sure as hell weren’t going to. The heat of his mouth, the pressure, the way he seemed to know exactly what I needed before I did. It was too much and not enough at the same time.
He moaned around me, the vibration shooting straight up my spine, then pulled back with a pop. “Does it feel good?”
“Quit talking and put your mouth back on me.” God, I was a prick, but the light in his eyes told me he liked it.
He didn’t need to be told twice. His mouth sank down my length, taking me deep, and when he swallowed around the head of my cock, I grabbed a fistful of his wet hair and held on.
He set a rhythm that was merciless—long, slow strokes with his tongue flat against the underside of my shaft, then pulling back to suck hard at the tip before swallowing me down again. Over and over until my thighs were shaking and my jaw was clenched so tight it ached.
He was unrelenting. And something in me snapped.
My grip tightened in his hair, and I rolled my hips forward, pushing deeper into his mouth. He groaned—not in protest, not even close—and his hands dropped from my hips, giving me full control.
I took it.
I fucked his mouth, setting my own pace, hard and steady, and he took every inch of me without flinching.
His eyes watered, spit slicked his lips, and the sound he made around my cock was pure, filthy encouragement.
But he never broke eye contact. Not once.
Those green eyes locked on mine like he wanted me to see exactly what this was doing to him.
I tried to hold back, but there was no shutting out his grunts or the vibration of his mouth or the brutal, perfect pressure that was pulling me apart from the inside.
The orgasm ripped through me, hard and sudden, and I let out a strangled shout. I held him in place, forcing him to take every last drop.
“Fuck me,” I panted, finally letting him go and pulling myself free.
Sean sagged back against the wall, still catching his breath, but he was wearing a bold, fearless grin. Wiping a hand over his face, he chuckled. “Sorry. Can’t fuck you right now. I just came in my own hand.”
My shoulders shook with a silent laugh as I turned into the spray. He was a fucking troublemaker with a big mouth. And fuck, did he know how to use it.
The water hit my face, washing away the sweat and the salt and the lingering taste of his kiss on my lips.
I heard him move behind me—water sluicing as he pushed off the wall, the slap of his feet on the tile as he stood. Then his hand brushed my hip, light and almost tentative, like he was checking whether he was allowed.
I didn’t pull away.
He stepped closer, sliding both arms around my waist from behind, his chest pressing flush against my back.
His beard scratched my shoulder as he rested his chin there, and for a long moment he just held me.
No words. No ask. Just the steady weight of him at my back and the sound of the water around us.
I’d never felt so relaxed.
So open and fucking vulnerable.
Shit. I needed space.
That moment of letting go was as much as I could give. If I didn’t get my walls back up now, I’d lose more than control. I’d lose myself. And I’d already done that once. Never again.
I stepped out of Sean’s arms without a word.
The air outside the shower hit cold against my wet skin. I grabbed a towel and dried off fast, efficient, mechanical. Then I swiped my boxers off the floor and pulled them on, not looking back at the shower once.
Sean still hadn’t said a word. The water cut off behind me as I reached for the door.
“I’ll go start the barbecue,” I said, my voice rougher than I wanted it.
Sean didn’t answer right away. The silence stretched long enough that something twisted in my chest.
“Sure thing, sir.”
The word hit differently now. Less teasing. Less cocky. Like he was giving it back to me deliberately, handing me the control I’d just reclaimed because he knew I needed it.
I didn’t answer. I walked out of the bathroom and shut the door behind me.