I reach back and run my hand over the short hairs on his head, feeling the warm water running between my fingers. While he scrubs with one hand, he keeps the other wrapped around me, pulling me against him.
Being in his arms always makes me feel so safe, taken care of. Like I can let go of all the worry and the stress because I know I'm not alone. It's not just about having his arms around me, even though that feels amazing in and of itself. It's because he knows me in a way I haven't let anyone else know me.
He tortures me with his teasing kisses, his rough facial hair brushing against my skin. Then he grabs my arm and spins me toward him, reeling me right in for a kiss under the running water.
We rub our hard cocks against one another.
"Do you feel clean now?" he asks, pulling away from my face, studying it like he's trying to memorize my features.
"Why are you getting me clean when you're just going to make me dirty again?"
"Because that's half the fun." His breath trails behind his words, warming my face before he moves in quickly for another kiss.
He squats down and hoists me into the air by my thighs, pushing me back up against the tile wall.
His tongue is back inside my mouth in no time, and I can feel his hard cock pointing up toward my hole. "It sucks that the condoms are all the way in the bedroom."
"Please. I buy in bulk. There are some under the sink. Lube, too."
Keeping me propped up against the wall, he turns off the water with one hand, then carries me out of the shower to the sink. He sets me on the counter and leans down, fetching our supplies before coming back up, a determined expression on his face as he readies himself.
His height is perfect for this counter, and I can tell by the way he looks at me that he's just noticed the same thing.
The playfulness in his eyes reminds me of the fun side of Jackson I've seen come out since we started messing around. Such a far cry from the guy who seemed so grumpy and frustrated when we first met-when he was so annoyed with what a fucking idiot I was that night at Cockfight. I'm so thankful he was there. Not just because he saved my ass or because he's about to drill it right now, but because I'm so fucking appreciative to have this amazing guy in my life.
I lean back, resting my elbows on either side of the sink, my shoulder blades against the mirror. Lifting my legs, I invite him to take me right here, and he doesn't waste time getting that thick girth of his up in me, pacing himself just right, letting me adjust to him, but also getting it back to where it hits all the right nerves, sending rushes of heat soaring through my body.
I lean my head back against the mirror and roll it back and forth, moaning as he hooks his arms under my legs and fucks me good.
"Bottom Boy, huh?" he asks with a sly smirk.
"Yeah, Daddy. Your Bottom Boy."
I feel like my ass just tightened up, but I realize he got harder.
I whimper as he leans down and wraps his hand around my neck, pulling me to him for a wet, tongue-filled kiss.
He takes my bottom lip between his teeth and tugs gently, then claims my mouth again with his, moving his lips about as frenzied as he's moving his cock inside me.
How is he so many things all at once-a caring father for his family, a hero on the job, and a great lay in the sack? And it's more than the fucking that gets me all wound up. It's how safe I feel when he holds me in his strong arms … and how he lowers my defenses. Unlike when we first met, it's not just my body that I want to let him inside of anymore. I want to open up and share all those things inside me that I've tried to shield from everyone else, which is scary as fuck. But Jackson's the first guy I've ever met who seems strong enough to handle those parts. To not run away when he sees the real Derek.
Guiding me with the hand around my neck, he pulls me upright so I have to wrap an arm around him, my body pressed against his as he continues pushing inside me before he lifts me up again and spins around. He hurries across the bathroom and pushes me up against the opposite wall.
"Oh, Daddy," I call out, loving how he can just throw me around like this. How he can support all my weight so effortlessly while he drives that dick right back to my prostate. "I want to make you feel good. Let me make you feel good."
29
Jackson
"You do. So fucking good." Does he somehow not know that? Derek is confident when he fucks. He knows he's good, but I'd be lying if I didn't acknowledge that when we're together, it's more than fucking. It's like we're merging two, becoming one, which I'm aware sounds corny as fuck and exactly the reason I won't say it out loud, but he knows. He has to fucking know.
"My balls are so goddamn full, but I don't want to come. Want to fuck you every way I can." I pull away from the wall, our bodies still fused together as I carry him into his bedroom. The lights are dim, but I still almost trip over a shoe, blinded by my lust for him. I drop Derek onto the bed so he's lying horizontal, his legs hanging off the edge. I pull out, listening to him groan before dropping to my knees and pushing two fingers into his eager little hole.