Chapter Sixteen
Chet
“No bubbles?”
Grady swirls the bathwater with a long, wet finger, plain white towel clinging magically to his waist as he bends over the big porcelain tub. An involuntary shiver races through his body as he admits, “I don’t use those ... anymore.”
I snicker, already thick beneath my own thin towel and once again entranced by his manly curves and rugged angles. “Anymore?” I chuckle. “Care to elaborate?”
“Let’s just say I ran out of lube one time back in high school and had to use, uh...”
“Bubble bath?” I finish for him.
“Instead,” Grady finishes. “Man, lemme tell ya. My prick spat bubbles for a week!”
“I think that’s an urban legend,” I tease as we linger outside the tub until Grady’s grinning face and dripping finger tell me the water temperature is finally up to his exacting standards.
“Yeah, well, tell that to my urologist, buddy!”
We laugh gaily, the long day of meetings, conference calls, and brainstorming sessions finally at an end. He’s naked underneath the towel, but even if I never saw his cock again, I’d still be content to admire the breadth of his broad chest, the sinews in his long arms, and those big, strong hands.
Hell, who am I kidding? I’d just about die if I never saw his cock again!
“Come on, baby,” he coos, cutting the lights as the candles he spent ten full minutes arranging and rearranging around the master bathroom suite glow stronger in the room’s dim lighting. “Let’s get naked!”
I shiver at the words, at the thoughts, at the implications. Reaching for my towel, I pause and wink. “You first, Cowboy.”
“Fucking tease,” he harumphs, quickly tugging free the knot that barely held his towel on in the first place until it gives, and the soft white material pools at his big, bare feet.
I give a little whistle at his sexy tan lines, unruly thick bush, and long, skinny pecker. “That baby dangles even when soft,” I admire possessively, hardly believing it’s mine, all mine.
“You act like you’re surprised,” he teases, offering his hand.
“I mean, last night happened so fast,” I murmur, releasing my own towel and flattered by the way his eyes widen in reply, especially considering our considerable size difference. “And mostly? In the dark.”
“Nothing dark about this here bathroom,” he counters, helping me into the sunken tub as the warm water sloshes around our feet. “Plenty of light to stare at that pretty little tush of yours.”
We stand in the knee-high water, warm and clear and rippling with our abrupt entrance.
I reach for his hands, and instinctively he helps me sink into the water, ass first. It caresses my tender flanks as I sink gently to the bottom.
“Nice,” I murmur, admiring his long, lean frame in the candlelight.
I wink up at him, face to face with his skinny eight-incher. “And the water feels good, too.”
“Smartass,” he murmurs, gripping the sides of the big, oval tub and sinking in across from me. It’s big, but not giant, and his legs gently slide alongside mine to fit as he sinks into the luxurious water. “Fuck, that feels good, huh?”
I sigh and reach for the bottle of wine on the long wooden ledge that runs alongside the tub. “Such a great idea,” I mutter, filling two stemless wine glasses with the sangria he’d picked up the night before.
“Stick with me, City Boy,” he insists, taking one. “I’m full of them.”
“I bet,” I say a little wistfully as we clink glasses before taking a long, luxurious sip.
“What’s wrong?” he asks perceptively, nodding at me over the wineglass as his big feet plant themselves at my back.
“Nothing,” I lie, thinking of Parker’s lecture on the way to the Galleria that morning and struggling to heed its battle cry. “I’ve just ... no one’s ever...”
The tears come hard and fast, slithering down my face before I can stop them. He moves to comfort me, but I still him with a dripping hand against his flat chest. “No, it’s fine,” I croak, managing an ironic little giggle along the way. “They’re ... they’re happy tears, I promise.”
He sinks back, gripping the sides of the tub with fraught concern. “I’ll always try to make you happy, baby.”
“That’s just it.” I sigh, tears drying as fast as they came.
“I just ... I mean...” I wave my glass around the romantic bathroom, rustic and sprawling, light and airy, and at its center?
The most handsome, sensitive, kind, generous, funny, giving man I’m ever likely to meet.
“Why can’t you live in LA you big, sexy hunk? ”
“Why can’t you make your stupid western shows here, you sexy little shit?” He chuckles, bath water rippling across my chest from his vibrant chuckle. “Then we could soak like this every night.”
“Not sure I could handle that,” I murmur, watching Grady sip his glass half-empty before licking his big, rouged lips and reaching for a loofah sponge hanging from the wall.
Beside it is a fancy dispenser of body wash, from which he pumps two quick spurts of a creamy, coconut-smelling soap into the middle of the sponge.
He dampens the loofah and wriggles it until it becomes foamy, then uses his free hand to reach under the water and grip my ankle.
“The fuck?” I chuckle at the sudden movement.
“Sorry,” he lies. The big, sexy lug’s not sorry at all. He gently tugs my foot upward, forcing me to sink down to my chin in the simmering hot water. “I just ... you make me want to try new things.”
“Like ... wash my feet?” I purr, not complaining about the way his big hand feels cupping my heel while he lathers and lingers around my toes.
“Yeah,” he grunts, our eyes meeting above his efforts. “You got a problem with that?”
I shake my head soberly. “I trust you to have good intentions, Cowboy.”
He winks. “Always.”
I wink back. “Even if it hurts a little.”
“You asked for that, Hollywood!”
We chuckle as he makes quick work of lathering my foot before letting it sink beneath the water’s surface. The effort gives the rippling waves atop the tub a sudsy sheen. “I thought you didn’t fuck with soap anymore,” I remind him.
“I don’t fuck with bubble bath,” he grunts, snatching my other foot to the surface as I nearly submerge in the process. “This is different.” As if to prove it, he pumps a few more dollops of body wash onto the soapy loofah and attacks my left foot with wild abandon.
I murmur at his tender attention: the way the spongy loofah tickles between my toes, the way he sticks his tongue out while scrubbing the sole of my foot clean, the way he tenderly rasps the sponge along my arch, as if studying its every pucker and wrinkle.
“Mmmm, baby,” I grumble, the warm, soapy water doing delicious things to my floating sac and bobbing cock. “That’s fucking nice.”
“It’s nice now,” he insists, letting my foot sink to the bottom as I gently hoist myself back up to chest height. “It’ll be hot later.”
“Later?” I murmur, wondering what my sexy host has up his sleeve.
“Yeah, later, when I suck those toes clean off your foot!”
We giggle at the delicious implications as I snatch the loofah from his hand.
“Two can play at that game,” I mutter, reaching down with my free hand to yank his big, size-twelver up and out of the water.
I yank a little too hard, submerging him completely and giggling as he comes up for air, lips sputtering, nostrils flaring, eyelashes batting, and scrubbing water off his face. “Sorry?” I pretend to apologize.
“You’ll pay for that,” he promises, sinking back as I lather and soap his big foot tenderly.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” I sigh, enjoying the way his big toes gleam in the soapy candlelight.
“That does feel good,” he admits, even sexier when wet.
“Right?” I purr, following the curve of his arch to lather his sole the same way he did mine.
“I may just become a foot guy after all,” he teases.
“Foot, balls, ass, smile,” I murmur. “I’m just a Grady guy, through and through.”
“You don’t mean that,” he murmurs, gripping the edge of the tub tightly as I reach for his other foot.
“I mean every word,” I insist, big foot dripping all over my soapy sponge. “Parker made me promise.”
“When? This morning?”
I nod, lathering his toes deliciously in the flickering candlelight. “I wondered what you two were talking about.” He sighs, watching me with half-lidded eyes.
“You,” I insist. “All you. The whole way there. Parker’s very protective of you. I hope you know that.”
“I know that,” he says a tad defensively. “We take care of each other in these parts.”
“I can see that.” I sigh, tenderly lathering his big, stiff toe. “It must be nice, having that kind of friendship.”
“I mean, it’s not like we hang out, but yeah, he’s the real deal, Parker is.”
“You are too, Grady,” I insist. “I can tell. Through and through. You’re real, to the core.”
He juts out his chin as if I might be teasing him. “I like to think so.”
“I know so.”
He frowns, my hands joining the sponge in caressing his soft, smooth arch and rough, flat sole. Fuck, he’s right: feet are fucking sexy, they are! “You barely know me.”
“I know how I feel,” I insist, releasing his soapy, squeaky clean foot into the water as we right ourselves, legs mingling beneath the soapy ripples along the gently lapping surface. “And I’ve never felt like this before, Grady.”
He just nods, so I finally have to ask: “Have you?”
“What do you think?” he grunts, rippling the water with his big fingers. “You think I light candles and pour wine and wash just any guy’s feet?”
Our eyes meet, his unblinking and fiercely ... truthful. “No,” I have to admit. “I don’t think you do, Grady. Not at all.”
“Yeah, well...” I feel his feet slither along either side of my backside, still tender but eager for whatever he might have in store next. “I don’t, so ... next question?”
“That’s just it,” I insist as he wriggles his toes until the top of his foot is wedged beneath each flank. “I don’t have any questions about you, Grady. I trust you, and that’s ... a scary feeling.”
He nods understandingly, his pretty face a blissful mask as he gently drags me closer until my knees gently part the water’s surface. He winks at them, then at me. “I think we’ve felt enough for one day, don’t you?”
I nod and, wriggling, he joins me, knees surfacing just like mine and in the process dragging our crotches closer to one another. I feel the silky wetness of his stiff cock, peering down into the rippling water to find them dancing beside one another.
As I watch, his big hand slices beneath the surface and grabs us both in his silken palm. I stiffen in more ways than one, frozen in place with the sudden inspiration as, gently, he strokes the tender skin of our shafts up and down.
“Fuck yes,” I murmur as his tender grip envelopes us both. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
He never stops stroking, the water rippling, the bubbles dispersing, and giving me a bird’s eye view of the sizzling action underneath. “You were too busy sparring with that shady land developer,” he reminds me.
“Who, Sullivan?”
He winks, the hot water and underwater acrobatics forcing him to blink sweat out of his eyes. “Yeah, you were pretty impressive back there at the Galleria.”
“So was he,” I grumble, subtly thrusting against the underside of his shaft and against his thick, rough palm. Jesus, but that feels divine! “I’m not sure I came out on top of that one.”
“Still, you did better than I could.”
“Yeah?”
“Sure, I’m no good at negotiating.”
“I’m not either,” I insist, breath growing shorter now as I spread my thighs as far as the squeaky, oval tub will allow. “But if it’s one thing I’ve learned in Hollywood, it’s this: act like a doormat and the world will walk right over you.”
“No one’s walking over you, City Boy,” he insists as his turgid rhythm begins to drag my aching balls along the smooth porcelain surface of the tub.
“You did,” I insist as the coil in my tense gut begins to loosen as the heat inside his hand turns molten. “Walked right into my life and threw open my heart.”
“Pretty talk for a pretty boy,” he insists, the water roiling now and soapy waves of desire threatening to spill over the edges of the tub itself.
We listen to the water slosh. Feel the squeaky clean flesh of our cocks slither. Glance across the water and moan in deep, satisfied desire. “Like you said,” I grunt, so close now I’m afraid I’ll overflow the tub with my approaching climax. “We’ve felt enough.”
“I was wrong,” he insists, jerking all the harder as sweat pours down his flushed face. “With you? I can never feel enough!”