Page 53 of Losing Forever
I giggle and playfully smack his abs. “Like you don't already.”
“Hardly.” He chuckles, and I slap him again. “You keep hitting me and I’m going to think you're into BDSM.”
Laughter scrapes my throat. “You wish.” I lift my head, and eye his penis. Time to return the favor.
“I wish a lot of things, but—”
His words cut off when I swallow him into my mouth.
“Fuck, Bray.” He sighs and grabs my waist when I rise onto my knees. “You don't have to.”
“Shh.” I smack him on the side of his ass cheek, then I take care of him, hopefully as well as he took care of me.
From the way he roars when he comes, I figure my blow job skills are worthy. I can only swallow part of his cum before I have to pull back, but I continue pumping my fist and helping him to finish.
He lets out a huge sigh and drops his head onto the tile floor. “That was fucking amazing.” He spanks my ass. “Surprising and amazing.”
I push my body upright and wipe my mouth. On my knees like this, his head is directly between my legs, with a clear view of my crotch. Yes, I was just on top of his face, spread wide for his feasting delight, but I didn't care so much before.
What if I drip on him?
His gaze strays from my face to between my legs. “You're even pretty right here.” He taps me gently down there.
“Does nothing faze you?” I stand and scoop up one of the towels from the floor to cover myself.
Grayson stays lying on his back, his body gloriously naked, glistening with sweat and his cum. He tucks his hands under his head, his ab muscles tightening with the movement, and smiles at me, looking every bit like a god. “Nothing about you does. You're as perfect as I am.”
Oh geez.I pick up the other towel and throw it at his face. “Clean up.” I step over him and turn on the faucet in the shower.
“Orders? What am I—your man-slave now?”
I giggle and glance over my shoulder at him.
Standing, he uses the towel to wipe himself off. Tan and ripped, he looks better than any celebrity.
“Do you want to be my man-slave?”
He tilts his head to the side with thought. “Yes.”
He's joking. Right? I roll my eyes and stick my hand under the water, testing the temperature.
“The water heats up fast down here,” he says, suddenly behind me. “It's close to the water heater.”
The scent of sex and steam fills the air. In addition to having him close and naked, it's like an aphrodisiac. “I don't want it too hot. My scars are sensitive to the heat.” They burn.
Instead of giving me a pitying look, like most people do when I talk about my injuries, Grayson reaches around me and turns the knob toward cold. “You'll want this here then.” He straightens and kisses my shoulder. “I've mastered the temperature in here. After I work out, I like a lukewarm shower, if not cold at times.”
“Do you work out a lot? You probably don't have to as much now that you don't play.”
“As much as I can, I do. I still like it.” He brushes my hair to the side and kisses my neck.
I melt a little.
“But you don't like baseball anymore?”
“I like baseball. I just don't love it. I don't think I ever did. My dad loves the game. He dreamed of the major league when he was growing up. It wasn’t attainable for him, so he pushed me.” He tests the water again and steps back. “It's ready.”
Out of habit, I test it, too—or maybe to be safe. Perfect. I touch the top of my towel where it's secured and pause.
