Page 17 of Ripe & Ready
His eyes scan the room like he’s about to MacGyver his way out of the situation. Then they land on the wall-mounted pumps. “Shampoo? Conditioner? Body wash?”
A flinch jerks through me before I can stop it. “Those things sting. Pretty bad, actually.”
He tips his head, accepting what he already knew.
Derek is a top and I don’t mean sometimes. I mean, exclusively. Which is fine. Know what you like, stick with it. I respect that. It's the same reason I’m a power bottom. Play to your strengths. Based on all available options, I’m met with awholelot of weakness.
Sorry.Hole.
“Let’s go back to the bed and get off,” I say, reaching over to shut off the water we’ve been standing under. “Plenty of fucking will occur once we’re back home.”
“I know,” he says, pulling his towel from the rack. Unlike me he’s struggling to mask his disappointment.
I grab my own towel and glance over at him. “Hey. Don’t do that. Don’t be sad. It’s fine, really. I still get to swallow your load.”
“I know,” he says, rubbing his face with the towel. “I…” He pauses. “I think I’m scared this is all in a bubble and once we leave here, you’ll snap out of it and realize you don’t actually want me like that.”
“What?!” I stop in my tracks. “That’s wild.”
“Is it?” He tosses the towel toward the floor. “Starting something new is big and scary and that’s not usually your thing.”
God, he’s always right.
“Okay, but… what if it is now?” I say, and his expression answers before he does. “Itwasn’tmy thing, but what if I’m that guy now? I can do big and scary things like anyone else. I can want things. I can have them.”
His face is doing a terrible job pretending to believe me.
“I’d do it for you,” I say as I flop onto the bed, still kind of damp and definitely still flushed, and he follows, landing on top of me with this content little sigh.
“I wanted this to feel special,” he says, kissing the tip of my nose.
“It already does.”
His mouth quirks, fighting a smile and losing. “You wanted it so bad, and you know me… I want to give it to you. I have a really hard time saying no to you, Andy. ”
“Oh yeah?” I smirk. “That right?”
“I’d give you anything.”
His touch anchors me, palm warm against my jaw, mouth catching mine in a slow collision. His tongue slides in, unhurried but hungry, seeking out every bit of want I’ve been holding back and I’m ready to meet him there. Every damn ounce.
We lose ourselves in it. In the press of our skin, in the gentle glide of our bodies. Our cocks rest against each other, hard and aching, as he rocks gently above me, tongue tracing mine in soft, patient strokes.
Then suddenly… he pulls back.
Eyes wide.
Something’s clicked.
“Wait,” Derek says, breathless and smug, grinning like the menace he absolutely is. “Do you trust me?”
Which… red flag.
That question never leads anywhere good. Especially not with Derek, whose whole personality is built around jump first, Google if it’s fatal later. He’s the kind of guy who hears about DIY skydiving and thinks, yeah, I could probably pull that off.
Meanwhile, we’ve established I’ve spent most of my life avoiding risk. But now I want to try. Loosen my grip a little. Be the kind of person who leaps. Heart first, common sense second.
So, naturally, I nod. Because my body is dumb and traitorous and loves him.
