Page 86 of On Circus Lane

His hands move down, cupping my shoulder blades and then lower until he reaches my buttocks and spreads them. I groan as he directs the showerhead at my opening. “Shit, that’s so good,” I hiss. “Don’t stop.”

He hums almost thoughtfully, and then I feel a soapy finger at my entrance. “We’d better clean you here,” he murmurs.

I swallow hard. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to spend time down here.”

“Oh my god.”

He chuckles and lowers himself behind me, spreading my cheeks and examining me. It’s lucky I don’t embarrass easily because his scrutiny is so thorough. “So pretty,” he finally says, and then he leans in and licks between my cheeks.

“Oh fuck,” I breathe. “That feels good.”

“You sound surprised?”

I shrug. “I guess I am. I’ve only had it done a few times, and it was always a big rush.”

“Were you directing the time by any chance?”

“Shut up.”

“Well, as you can see, I’m very much a slow-moving boy.”

“If you got any more slow-moving, you’d be dead,” I say tartly, sticking out my arse and squeaking as he slaps the cheeks. I lower my head and moan as he licks again, this time running his tongue over my opening. It feels so good that sparks fly behind my closed eyelids, and I clench my fists against the tiles, mutely begging him to keep going. This time he does, licking and sucking at the tiny opening before poking the tip of his tongue in.

He pulls back. “Hand me the lube,” he says in a deep voice that sends a shiver down my spine.

I open my eyes and look dazedly at the shower tray where a tube of waterproof lubricant is resting.

“You’re thinking ahead.”

“It’s my superpower. I must say I like the fact that your lube is edible.”

“Well, I do like a multi-purpose item,” I mutter.

He laughs then rubs his lubed fingers together while I blink the water on my eyelashes away. Then I squeeze my eyes shut in pleasure as he rubs my hole with his lubed finger. “Do it,” I urge. “Shit, that’s so fuckinggood.”

He’s licking my hole around his finger, which he just slid inside me. He keeps it still while he sucks and licks at the wrinkled skin and then crooks his finger slightly, so he hits my prostate. The pleasure makes my toes curl, and I groan loud and long.

Those moans get louder as he inserts another finger and then another, all the time sucking at my entrance or pulling away to press his tongue into my perineum, pressing hard with his other hand.

When he pulls away, I groan loud and long. “No, don’t stop.”

“I’m not going to. Get out of the shower.”

My legs are wobbly, so I let him help me out, tottering slightly in the cold air. My cockhead is slick with precome andthrobbing, but he ignores it, drying me off and leaving me slightly damp. “Get on the bed,” he orders.

I hasten to do as he says and scurry to the bedroom. There, I crawl on the bed, resting on my hands and knees and pushing my arse out.

“No,” he says low. “Turn around and lie back.”

“What?”

His smile is evident in his voice. “I’m running this show today. It’s my turn. Roll over, Beethoven.”

I groan at the terrible joke but then roll onto my back, opening my legs. He’s standing at the bottom of the bed rubbing his hair with a towel. With his gaze fixed on me, he throws the towel to one side and crawls onto the bed, before resting between my legs and then spreading them further with his big hands.

“Fuck,” he says in an awed voice.

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