Page 51 of Sloane

Home.

I realized that’s exactly how that little apartment felt being there with her. But it wasn’t technically my home, and thankfully she didn’t call me on it.

“Deal.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

“Please do.”

With a naughty wink, she walked past me and put one foot into the shower before pausing.

“You don’t mind if I join you, do you?”

“Mind? I was just about to come find you and throw you over my shoulder caveman-style to bring you in here with me.”

Her eyes twinkled when she replied, “Ooh, that could be fun,” before disappearing behind the curtain.

God, I fucking loved her.

****

Ashley

Sloane’s cock was hard when he stepped into the shower only seconds after I did. I loved having that effect on him.

He seemed like he couldn’t get enough of me, which for someone who’d never had a serious boyfriend was kind of intimidating.

But he’d been so focused on me—how my body reacted to every single one of his touches, my facial expressions, even the noises I made, that I couldn’t help but feel treasured.

The fact he was so gorgeous didn’t hurt. Although, that did play into my nervousness. How could someone who looked like him want to be with someone who looked like me?

Yet, he did. He’d left no doubt about that with the six—count ‘em, six—orgasms he’d given me in the last twenty-four hours.

I’d felt bad about how lopsided it’d been, his one for every two of mine. I voiced it out loud after he’d made me come on his tongue that morning while I was perched on the kitchen counter. (I will never be able to bake again in that kitchen without thinking about how he’d lifted me up and set me on the Formica, pulled up a chair, and made a meal of me.)

“Our orgasm count isn’t very even,” I’d noted while I caught my breath as the eggs boiled on the stove.

“Baby, getting you off is such a fucking turn-on. And you have to remember, I’m not exactly eighteen anymore.”

No, he was thirty-six and all-man.

And his refractory period was still impressive. The evidence was on full display as the water now rained down on us in the shower.

I poured some of my coconut-scented body wash in my palm before running my hands along his chest and the planes of his washboard abs, leaving his skin sudsy from soap.

He closed his eyes and leaned against the shower wall, whispering, “Damn, sweetness. I love it when you touch me.”

“That makes two of us,” I teased then lowered my hand to grip his cock which was jutting out.

“Fuuuuck, baby.”

I’d never had a man at my mercy before, and I had to admit, I liked how powerful it made me feel. Yeah, his caveman comment had conjured up some sexy fantasies of him dominating me, but at the moment, I liked being the one in control.

I poured more soap directly on the shaft of his cock, then stroked him from the base to the tip. The lather provided a sexy, aromatic lubricant that allowed my fist to easily glide up and down. With my other hand, I gently cupped his balls and squeezed, causing him to moan out loud.

“You make my cock so fucking hard, Ash.”

“I see that,” I quipped and increased the tempo of my hand before standing on my tiptoes to breathe in his ear, “I like making you hard.”

---