Owning It (Metropolis #3)(43)

I start to get some soap from the pump in the nook on the corner of the shower when Jackson says, "No, no. That's not gonna work for me. Get your tight ass over here."

"Yes, sir," I say.

As I reach him, he grabs my shoulders and pushes on one side, urging me to spin around and face away from him. He scrubs my back with the loofah, making his way across and then down, carefully covering every inch. When he finishes with my back, he scrubs the front, starting with my stomach. By now my cock is as hard as it was when we were jerking off together. 

He pulls me back so I can feel his stiff erection moving up and down my back.

With his free hand, he grabs my shaft. Leaning down, he presses his face close to my cheek and says, "Look who needs it again already. You weren't kidding about these power-bottom needs of yours."

"I would never joke about those."

I turn to him, pressing up against his body, his soap suds slick against my skin.

"You wanna stick a few fingers up in there again?" I ask with a wink.

"If I stick something in there again, you know what it's going to be."

"No need to wait. What? You scared you'll like it too much?"

"Maybe," he says, but I can tell he's not intimidated. If anything, he seems more excited now that we've messed around. "I wasn't kidding about what I said earlier, either. About this ass being mine. I hope you're okay with that."

"As long as you take good care of it, that won't be an issue."

"Oh, I'll take very good care of it all right." He kisses me, his lips warm from the water that still soaks them. I open my mouth, eagerly accepting his tongue.

He grips my ass cheeks with both hands, the loofah bunched up in one hand as he massages gently. He sure fucking knows his way around a body.

I cling to him like I did on the couch.

I'm pleased that I could make him feel good. And what he gave me … holy fuck.

We finish showering and dry off before we make our way through the short hallway into my bedroom. I notice Jackson's towel is hiked up to his navel.

It makes me chuckle.

"What are you laughing about?"

"Just some of the weird things you do. Like what the fuck is with your towel being up that high? You don't have anything to hide."

"I know I don't," he says, grabbing the edge and pulling it off, exposing that hot body of his, displaying it like a man who doesn't mind me staring at the long dick that dangles between his legs.

"Give me your towel," I tell him. He does, and as I dispose of it with mine in the laundry basket at the bottom of the hall closet, he walks into my room. When I join him, he's already under the covers. Just made himself right at home in my bed, and I'm glad. I was a little worried between him telling me about Uncle Randy and what we did that I would scare him off. I don't think he's like that, but it's a fear that's always in the back of my mind. Of people finding out who I really am and what my life's really like. Because that's not the Derek I try so hard to show everyone: the fun Derek that guys love to party and play with.

"Get into bed," he orders.

"Yes, sir."

I slide in on the right side. "Ooh, are you gonna be the big spoon?"

"Just shut up and get your ass over here."

"Will you be able to control yourself? I feel like I might wake up with a big daddy dick inside me."

I pull up the covers, revealing his semi. "Should I be worried?"

"I doubt you're worried about anything."

"Where did you learn to finger blast like that if you've never messed around with a guy?"

"Just because I haven't been with a guy doesn't mean I haven't watched a lot of gay porn."

"Naughty Daddy."

I grin before rolling over and backing my ass up against his pelvis, feeling that cock sliding vertically between my cheeks.

He reaches around and grabs my dick, which is so much harder.



       
         
       
        

"Maybe someone needs to go again."

"Wouldn't kill me," I say, rolling toward him.

Propping himself up on his elbow, those gray eyes seem to look right through me. I tease his short hair with my fingers, still damp from the shower. The urge to trace a path between the freckles on his shoulders hits me. I don't know why I find them so cute.

"So we can take tango classes, but in the meantime, you wanna swing by on Saturday and help me out with the class I'm teaching?"

"I don't really think I can help much."

"You did fine with the basics, and that's all I'll really be able to teach them anyway. It'll be easier to show them with another person who can at least do that much."