Page 47 of Penalty Zone

The fear on his face is the only reason I’m not furious with him. We need to talk about not being reckless. Caleb occupies my mind at all hours. It’s not just physical. I’m concerned if he’s eating properly, sleeping enough, and I want to know his random thoughts. I never know what he’s going to say, if it will be silly, earnest, or wise. But I want the privilege of hearing them.

I find him in the shower. Naked and wet. The primal part of my brain activates and knows he’s mine and he ran from me. That will not happen again.

Caleb spins, flipping his wet curls out of his eyes as if he’s seeing a mirage. Stalking toward him, I ignore the water and grip his chin.

“Don’t ever run from me. I will come after you, and you won’t like the consequences,” I growl and watch his eyes dilate.

“O-o-okay,” he stutters, standing completely still.

My need to take care of him overwhelms me. He’s always concerned about others but never asks for help when he’s struggling.

“Don’t move,” I order, and back away to ensure he’s obeying. Of course he does. It’s how he’s built. He wants someone to take control. I use a private shower to hang my clothes so they don’t get wet. Leaving them on the team shower floor is not sexy.

Caleb’s in the exact position I left him with shampoo dripping into his shut eyes.

“My Good Boy.” I tip his head back and rinse the suds from his hair, then wipe his eyes. “Never harm yourself while trying to follow my instructions.” I kiss each eyelid and am met with his bewildered green gaze.

He inclines his head a couple of inches but freezes. This amazing man, so eager to please, is intent on obeying until I say otherwise.

“You can move and talk,” I say, and taste his gasp when he realizes I’m naked too. “Let me clean you up.” I reach around him for his body wash. It’s an all-natural brand I don’t recognize, but it smells earthy like he does. He’s explained the benefits of natural products to me, and I’ve switched over a majority of my personal care items.

My soapy hands glide over his arms and chest. I explore muscles and ribs and all that makes up Caleb Benz. When I crouch down, he reaches out as if he doesn’t want me in a subservient position. But this is to show him, without words, I’m committed to caring for him.

His powerful thighs quiver under my touch, and his cock bounces in my face. Shallow breaths saw in and out of his heaving chest.

“Turn around,” I rasp, not recognizing my voice. I’m face to face with his round butt cheeks. They’re more than a handful of smooth peachy skin. “Wider,” I say, and enjoy the view of hislegs spreading for me. I spread him farther, inhaling when his pink hole reveals itself.

I take care to wash every inch and trace his enticing rim over and over until he stops clenching.

“Do you like that?” My lust is tangible, thicker than the water.

“It’s the best thing I’ve ever felt in my life,” he says in a rush, and a flush covers his skin.

“You haven’t felt near the amount of pleasure I’ll bring you,” I murmur, hesitating for a second. “Are you a virgin here?” My thumb presses against his hole.

“Yes,” he answers, and a prehistoric part of me howls, certain I’ll be the first man he allows inside him. I massage and tease the ridges of his puckered entrance.

“Holy mother of earth and stars,” Caleb cries out and pushes back.

“We don’t have time for all the things I want to do to you now,” I say regretfully, while I turn his body, staying on my knees. There’s a tiny portion of my brain working that understands this behavior could get us caught.

I fist his leaking cock and meet his stare. “From now on, your orgasms belong to me. You only come when I say. Understood.”

“Yes, sir.” He reaches out but drops his hand.

“You may touch me,” I say and swallow him to the hilt, burying my nose in his pubic hair. As a bisexual man, my greatest gift is not having a gag reflex.

The sound coming from Caleb is a cross between a moan and a high-pitched yip. He tastes even better than he smells, and if I thought I could walk away after experiencing him once, I was mistaken.

My words imply this won’t be a one-and-done hookup, and since I can’t envision the future, I focus on the man with a tantalizing cock in my mouth.

He rewards me with dribbles of precum that I savor on my tongue. I’m torn between doing this fast and dirty and prolonging his pleasure. The next time I slide him as deep as possible, he grips my hair and his body stiffens.

As I pull back, I demand, “Come.”

“Oh no. No. No. No. No. I’m sorry. So sorry,” he babbles as he comes. His knees collapse, and I catch him, clutching him as I drink him down.

There’s a sweetness to his salty cum, and it suits him.

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