Page 109 of Sweet Caroline
“You’re gonna cook yourself in this, Jesus Christ!”
“Sorry,” I say and, when the temperature settles, I fall forehead-first into his inked chest, tucking my arms up between us.
Don’t leave me. Or this shower. Not ever.
He wraps me in his embrace and kisses my wet hair. “You okay?”
“Not really.”
“What can I do?”
“I dunno.Remove my mutinous uterusseems like too big of an ask.”
“Mutinous Uterus. Sounds like a punk band.”
I laugh, albeit a bit sadly, and try to get closer, wishing I could climb into his skin. “I guess it does.”
“Sorry to say, I’m definitely unqualified for that level of surgery.” I can hear the amusement in his voice without even looking up. “I could probably manage splinter removal at best. Any less invasive options?”
I groan into his skin.
“Hey,” he says quietly. “I know this sucks.” I’m not sure if he means my cramps or the unspoken dread looming over us both.
“Yeah.”
He reaches down between us to adjust his erection, pressing it against my stomach.
There’s something strangely comforting about knowing that simply being with me makes him hard.
“There is one thing we could try.”
I lift my head, a skeptical pinch between my brows.
“They say orgasms help.” He dips down to kiss me before I draw back.
“What? But I have my period.”
He shrugs. “I mean, we’re already in the shower. And a little blood doesn’t bother me. Between my job and my clumsy-ass ADHD brain, I’m always bruised or bleeding and I don’t even knowwhyhalf the time.”
“Is that supposed to be encouraging?”
He grins and kisses me again, slipping his palms down over my ass. “I’m just saying. I could help you out. It’s not a big deal for me.”
I think for a moment. “Maybe it would be okay. I don’t think there’d be any… I mean, I use a cup, so…”
“And I can, y’know, stay on the outside.” He squeezes my asshard, then chuckles softly against my cheek. “Why do I feel like we’re talking in code here?”
I smile, then let out a little moan when he squeezes again. “That feels really good.”
“Yeah?” He does it again, kneading into the muscle as I slide my arms around his neck. Slowly, he works his way to my hips, his firm grip distracting me from the dull ache I’ve been living with most of the day.
“Thank you,” I murmur against his lips.
He turns us so my back faces into the shower spray and starts to massage my thighs.
I groan at how good it feels, but my breath catches when he slowly drops to his knees. “Are you…?”
“Not gonna do anything you don’t ask for, don’t worry.” He blinks up at me as tiny, rogue droplets jump past my shoulders to speckle his cheeks. He gently kisses my tummy, lingering there like he can erase the pain. “You’re in charge.”
