Chapter 16 #2
“Not even a massage? No one just spent hours with their hands on you, working out the kinks, or maybe working in a few kinks? Nobody took one of those Hitachi wands and just made a few mistakes on your body that you felt wrong later for liking?”
His shoulders shake with silent laughter for a second, then he sighs happily as I work out a tight knot of tension. “I think I’d remember something like that.”
“You really would.”
I wrap my arms around him again, soaking in his strength as I wash every bit of skin I can reach. There isn’t an ounce of fat on him. Does he not eat his own baked goods?
“This feels good, Win.” His voice is so low I strain to hear him. Deep and guttural as he inhales through his nose. “You have great hands.”
“A lot of lotion and easy city living,” I say absently, tracing hypnotic patterns up and down his arms. I could touch him for hours. Just touch him, and be satisfied. “I’ve tried to get calluses, but they never take. Where did you get yours? The ranch?”
He nods. “Helping my uncles with the fencing and animals. And cooking.”
“Calluses from cooking?”
“Hot pans, hot grease, sharp knives.” His eyes are closed and he’s leaning into my touches now, his defenses falling as I watch. “It’s a dangerous pastime when you’re just learning and you don’t have a microwave or a supply of frozen pizza rolls.”
“Sassy Numpy.”
“Still not my name.”
I scrub the hard flat stomach I’d love to get my mouth on and he sucks in a breath. Then his expression heats when I stroke his cock twice before moving my hands to a safer location. “Just being thorough.”
He swallows hard. “Thorough is good.”
Stopping myself from crossing the line when my erection is pulsing in time with my heart and he’s looking at me like that is a challenge. But he deserves at least this much from me.
You want to please him.
I’m panting a little over his firm muscles as I say, “Look at us, two guys who suck at being pampered, just lounging in a bath and shooting the breeze. How very European of us. Or Roman, depending on how far back you want to go. It’s nice, right?”
“That’s one word for it.”
“This is actually my first time. I’ve been in hot tubs with friends before, but I’ve always bathed alone.
” I’m soaping his shoulders and chest again.
I can’t seem to stop touching him. Or talking.
“Bex makes me read these books, and I swear, each and every one has a sex scene in a shower. Or under a waterfall, which is the fantasy romance version of a shower. I’ve never done that either. ”
“Because solitary bathroom time is sacred.”
I laugh. “You remembered! Though in your case, I’m obviously willing to make a few exceptions.”
This combination of tenderness and lust is new to me. I don’t know how to deal with it. I need to put some space between us before I jump him and ruin my attempt at selfless nurturing. I rinse off my hands and place one last kiss against the freckles behind his ear.
“There. All done.”
“You think you’re done?”
Something in his voice has my heart pounding out a warning, and the predatory look that transforms his features shatters the soft mood as the teddy bear becomes a dragon again.
“Michael?”
“We’re not finished yet,” he says hoarsely, taking my mouth in a hard, fast kiss. “We’re not even close. Stand up, Win.”
Thank God.
My fingers cling to his slick shoulders as he helps me to my feet between his knees. When I straighten, the possessive fire in his gaze roams my drenched body and something inside me trembles in submission.
Bracing his hands on both sides of the tub, he pushes to his feet, bathwater still sluicing off of him when he steps onto the thick bathmat and offers me his hand.
I take it without a word and let him help me out of the tub.
An instant later we’re wrapped around each other again.
And moving somehow. I don’t know where we’re going and don’t care, because this kiss is claiming all of my attention. Claiming me.
My thighs tighten around him and I can’t get close enough. I already know I won’t be satisfied until he’s inside me. I only realize we’re in the shower when the steam surrounds me and the hot spray hits my back and sides, rinsing the bubbles away.
“I want to be your first in here too.”
I really hope he means what I think he means. “Condoms. Lube.”
“Basket,” he says against my mouth, setting me on the wide shower bench and kneeling between my legs. “I need to thank them for that later.”
“What are you talking about? What basket?”
“Honeymoon cabin. The welcome basket is stocked for an orgy.”
Thank God. “Get the damn basket, Michael.”
“Already done. I need to taste you again.”
“No, you don— oh fuck .” My head hits the wall as he takes me into his mouth. He’s more aggressive this time. All tongue and hot, tight suction, and I’m already seeing the finish line in the distance. “Not like this.”
I say that even as I grab fistfuls of his short hair and watch my cock disappear between his lips, his cheeks hollowing out, fingers digging possessively into my thighs.
“I want all of you,” I tell him, my hips rocking deeper into his mouth without my permission. “You got your payback twice yesterday, and I’ll never get over how good it is, but you promised you were going to fuck me.”
A greedy rumble of pleasure escapes his chest and vibrates against my sensitive shaft, and then he sucks me harder, taking me to the root. I won’t last like this.
“You wouldn’t have brought the stupid basket in here if you hadn’t been thinking about it as much as I have.” My wheedle turns into one long moan as he swallows. “How we’ll fit. How hard and deep I’ll take you.”
He lifts his head and the look in his eyes tells me I’ve finally pushed him over the edge.
Thank you, god of orgasms.
Before I know what he’s planning, my face is pressed against the tile, my knees are on the bench and his erection is a hot brand against the curve of my ass. Michael has moves, and I’m so thankful I want to cry or make him pizza rolls when this is over.
“You touch me like that, lower my defenses, and now you want me to fuck you?”
“Yes,” I gasp. “I need it.”
“Not as much as I do.”
He disappears long enough for me to hear the basket upending on the counter, and then he’s boxing me in with his powerful body, trapping me against the wall.
Cool, thick liquid drips between the cheeks of my ass and I almost sob in relief, tilting my hips back. “Yes, Michael.”
He scrapes his beautiful beard along my shoulder to whisper in my ear as two fingers probe my ass. “I wanted to go slow when we finally did this. To watch your face when I got inside you for the first time, so we’d both know it wasn’t another dream.”
He bites my neck, his fingers sliding deep without hesitation.
“Fuck,” I shout, my breath fogging the tile I’m clinging to.
“Jesus, you are tight,” he mutters against my ear. “I used to jack off in showers like this one, imagining how you’d feel around me, but it never came close, did it? My fist never squeezed me this good.”
I nod and make unintelligible noises as he pumps and scissors those long, callused fingers inside me.
“You’re still recovering. I thought slow and easy would be better. Making you come with my mouth and hands. But you want hard and fast against a slippery wall. Is this what happens in those books you read? Is this what you want?”
“Yes. That’s what I w-want.” He curves the fingers inside me and rubs my prostate once. Just once. Cruel tease. “Now would be good.”
“Any other demands, Win? You want to hear me speaking Turkish again? Want to sit on my lap and call me a pub beast?”
“No.” My erection is slipping up and down the porcelain wall. “Just you, Michael. I just want you.”
His fingers are gone and, after I hear the sound of him opening a condom and slipping it on, the wide head of his cock replaces them, pushing inside. Forcing a stretch with a low groan of pleasure that’s so good I can’t catch my breath.
“My Win,” he rasps hotly against my cheek. “I knew. From the second I saw you, I knew.”
What did he know? That I was his? Or that the world would shift on its axis with the first stroke of his cock? That I would feel impaled and destroyed and changed with every punishing, jarring jolt of his hips?
He spreads my knees farther apart with his thighs, one broad palm on my stomach and the other braced against my hip, and I can’t think. Can’t find my balance. My fingers claw at the wall, at the air, reaching back for his hips, desperate for something solid to hang on to.
Sex isn’t like this. It doesn’t feel this good. It doesn’t mean this much. “Michael.”
“I’m here.” He pulls me closer, wrapping me up tight in his arms as he gives me what I want. “I’ve got you. Finally got you. I need to— Win, tell me you’re with me. Tell me you can take what I need to give you.”
I feel my head shaking, but I still say, “Yes. Everything. Anything.”
His next thrust slaps our flesh together and my shout echoes off the walls. He does it again, harder this time. He breaks up the rhythm, stopping between strokes to grind against my ass, as if he can’t get deep enough.
Every time I get close, he changes the swivel of his hips, the speed of his strokes. He waits until I’m gasping and crying his name before he finds that spot that makes me see stars and clench around him. “ Fuck. Right there. Please, Michael.”
“That’s what you need, baby?”
He shifts my body, angling his thrust to hit it again, and I moan raggedly. “Please, don’t stop again. I need to come.”
He grunts with his next forceful stroke. “I’ll never stop, Win. Not until I know every button to push, every sound you make and what it means. You’ll be teaching me until I’m an expert on this body. The only one you’ll reach for whenever you need to feel good again.”
I must say something coherent in the affirmative, because he praises me and his hand slides down my stomach to wrap around my leaking shaft. He starts to stroke me in time with his thrusts. “I love your cock. Love how it feels in my hand, in my mouth.”
I’m a fan of his too, but I don’t have the breath left to tell him that.
“I’m going to take you slowly the next time, I swear it. Draw it out. Touch and taste every part of you. I…God, you feel too good around me.”
Then all I know is the pounding stretch inside me. The quick, rough, perfect stroke of his hands. The sound of my voice begging to come until I’m hoarse.
I turn my head blindly, needing his lips on mine. I need something to ground me. Michael. I need Michael. He kisses me, a messy tangle of tongues and moaning mouths as he takes me with his hand and his cock. I’m surrounded by him. Completely his.
My climax crashes over and into me all at once. I come apart, calling his name against his mouth. Shivering as his shout of release echoes in the shower around me.
I can’t stop shaking, and the word “shipwreck” comes to mind. I’ve been taken over by a force of nature. I’m still breathing, but the only thing that was keeping me afloat has been destroyed, leaving me devastated on the shore.
My body trembles as he keeps stroking my shaft until I give him everything. Until I’m spent and curling weakly against his chest.
Then he rinses me off, wraps a towel around me and carries me out of the shower and down the stairs. I smile when he teases me about something, but inside I’m all shattered planks and torn sails.
Sex doesn’t change you. It relieves tension, releases serotonin and hopefully doesn’t send you to the ER.
But it doesn’t make you feel like you found some part of yourself that was missing.
It doesn’t fix all your problems. It doesn’t blast a hole in the wall you’ve been building around your heart for years in a single orgasmic blow.
So why do I feel like this?
If I’d known it would be this good, I might have tied Michael to my side that night at the pub.
If you’d known, you would have run in the other direction and never looked back.
Either way, it’s too late now. If we’re sticking with that shipwreck analogy, I think I might be sunk.
Glug-glug.