Prince Albert(132)

I shouldn't be showering with Gaige. I mean, I definitely shouldn't have done what we did earlier in the sunroom either, but I really shouldn't be prolonging things. What happened in the sunroom was crazy, my mind snapping and me losing all sense of reason and propriety. But my sanity is back now.

At least, my sanity is back until his hands are roaming over my breasts, my skin slick. And until I look at his well-defined chest muscles right in front of me. Then I think I lose my mind again. I reach out and touch him, running my fingers down his abdomen. "What do you mean, you don't know how you are after sex?"

Gaige shrugs. "I don't usually stick around long enough to find out what chicks think after sex."

"Chicks?" I ask. But I'm still smiling. "You really are a pig, aren't you?" If he doesn't stick around after sex, why the hell is he here?

Gaige grins broadly. "Oink, oink," he says.

"That's hot. At least you're honest."

"Want to hear some more honesty?" he asks, his finger tracing around my nipples, one and then the other. Heat rushes through my body at his touch and I find myself wanting him back between my legs. Damn it. It's like we didn't just have sex minutes ago.

One time is a mistake, I think. Twice…well, that's something else entirely.

"Why are you here?" I ask him.

Gaige takes my hand and wraps it around his cock. "Because you make me so fucking hard I can't think straight," he says. "Because I spent a whole summer four years ago hanging out with you all the time, and thinking every day how it would feel to have your lips wrapped around my cock. Today was the first time I got to feel them."

"You spent a whole summer thinking about me blowing you?" I stroke him lightly, my hand running down his length, even as part of me thinks there's no way in hell I should be doing this. I'm worried that Gaige is going to be addictive, and that's terrifying.

"I spent a whole summer thinking about you on your knees with your lips wrapped around my cock," he says, his voice low and gravely. "I spent four years thinking about you sitting on my face. Four years thinking about you riding me."

"I – " I start. I realize I don't know what the hell to say. The fact that Gaige has spent any time at all fantasizing about me – about us – seems absurd. "I'm sure you say that to all the girls."

Gaige laughs. "Not quite, sweetheart."

"You know, some people use that word as a term of endearment," I say, my hand stroking him lazily. "You make it sound like an insult."

"You take it whichever way you want, darlin'," he says.

"I don't know whether to be annoyed or turned on."

"Now, I've definitely heard that before," he says, smiling as he reaches between my legs. "I'd say turned on is more accurate."

Arousal courses through my body when he touches me, but I stop his hand with mine. "I've never been turned on by someone who irritates me as much as you do, Gaige."

He grins. "I'll definitely take that as a compliment, sweetheart." He spins me around to face the shower wall and pins my hands above my head. "I only washed your front. Can't miss the opportunity to wash the other side."

"You're so thoughtful," I start, but I'm immediately distracted by his hands traveling down my hips and ass, and then between my legs.

"People tell me that a lot," he says.

"Yes," I murmur, as his fingers find their way inside me. I can't follow the conversation anymore; all I can think about is his fingers and what they're doing. I move to turn around, but he reaches up with his other hand and pushes my palms firmly against the shower wall again.

"Assume the position," he says, and I can't help but giggle.

"What position is that?"

"It's whatever position I put you in," he says, and the throbbing between my legs intensifies. Damn Gaige. He says the kind of things that my brain tells me I should think are totally misogynistic and repulsive things to say, yet my body seems to feel exactly the opposite.

"You think I'm just going to do whatever you tell me to do?" I ask. But I don't move my hands. I stand there, letting the hot water pour over me. When Gaige steps out of the shower, the blast of air-conditioned air hits me. For a second, I think he's just decided to leave, but he pops back inside, foil wrapper in hand.

He covers my palms with his, my hands still above my head, and leans in close to my ear. "I think you're going to do what I tell you to do," he says, sliding one hand down my arm, then along my back, and over my ass. "Because you like that someone has the balls to do it."

I laugh. "And you think you're the one with the balls?"