Page 105 of Code Word
I shook my head. “Nope.”
He smiled before he crawled off the bed. “Need to wash my hands.”
He kept the bathroom door open so I knew he could hear me. “What were you watching?” His laptop screen was paused, two men frozen on screen. They were shirtless, jeansfar too tight. “Is the tall guy really a plumber or is that a wrench in his pocket?”
Luke stood in the doorway, drying his hands, smirking. “Why do I feel like this is going to end badly?”
I gestured to the screen. “Is this the first thing you found, or is it bookmarked? Do you have favorites? Do you have a plumber fetish?”
He tossed the hand towel into the bathroom and walked over. “Shut up.” He crawled up the bed to sit beside me, resting against the headboard. “I have a few favorites, but I thought I’d start you off on something for beginners.”
I snorted. “Beginners?”
“I didn’t want to scare you off.”
“I’m not scared of plumbers.”
He elbowed me with a laugh, then pulled the laptop onto our laps and pressed play. “If you wanna stop watching, it’s totally fine. If it’s not for you, it’s no big deal. I don’t want to rush you.”
“Shhh.” I put my finger to my lips. “The plumber is telling him which pipe needs fixing. The plot is very important.”
Luke sighed and skipped ahead a few minutes and suddenly the two men onscreen were kissing. Mouths open and probing tongues, hands gripping, bodies pressed together.
“Oh, that escalated quickly,” I said. And then the plumber was pushing the client down on a bed and undoing his jeans so he could pull out his cock and start stroking. They never stopped kissing. They never stopped touching, their breaths fraught, their bodies desperate. It was slow and sensual.
It was intimate.
It was . . . hot.
Was I leaning a bit closer to Luke? Was I getting hard? Was he? I wanted to feel his dick in my hand, but for some reason, I was too nervous to move first.
Fuck.
He put his hand on my thigh, and without thinking, I grabbed his fingers and brought his palm to my dick.
“I’m really glad you’re not scared of plumbers,” he said.
“Shut up,” I murmured, trying to roll my hips, to feel more, needing more.
He understood and slid his hand under my waistband and wrapped his fingers around my cock. His grip was hot and hard and enough to wipe my brain, so it took me a second to realize that I should do the same.
I fumbled to get my hand in his shorts and around his dick, and he arched his back and groaned. “Fuck,” he breathed.
The head of his cock slipped through my fist, his slit leaking precome and slicking us both.
The guys on screen were now fucking, missionary, kissing and clawing, balls deep, and holy fuck, I needed... that.
I shut the laptop and pushed it off our legs, letting go of his cock.
“What are you doing?” he asked, panicked.
“I don’t want to watch them,” I said, getting up on my good knee. I pulled him down the bed, spread his legs, and planted myself between them. “I want to watch you.”
His breath left him in a rush, his mouth open, his eyes wide and wanting.
“You’re so fucking hot,” I whispered before I crashed my mouth to his. I needed to taste his tongue. I needed to feel his body, his touch, his strength, his everything.
His hands raked over my body, rough and strong, his blunt fingernails digging into my skin. His tongue in my mouth, the roll of his hips, the hardness of his cock. The way our bodies melded, pressed, and rocked together, the heat between us, the energy, the passion. Like if someone threw in a match, we’d burst into flames.
