In all the time that I wasn’t having sex before he came along,it felt like I was just working out at the gym for me. Trying to be fit on theoutside to show myself that, despite my weakness, I was still strong. Now, it’slike all that time in the gym was finally for something…like all those amazingtimes we’ve shared in bed together, getting to see him enjoy them.
As his gaze meets mine, I don’t see any concern about myhandicap or my past, and it sets me at ease.
He lowers his hands, sliding them across my abdomen, feeling intothe grooves between my abs. “You’ve got one hot eight-pack, Reese,” he says.
I reach my hand that isn’t on the rail to him and run my thumbbetween his pecs, down the vertical dip between his abs. “You’ve got some niceabs on you, too.”
He doesn’t look at me. Just continues taking in my body. Feelinghis slippery fingers across it. I like how easily his hands slide across myskin.
He caresses my hips, and I’m surprised by how firm they are ashe massages them with his hands. My cock steadily grows as the delightfulsensation of his touch stimulates a powerful desire within me.
“You really are like a work of art,” he says.
His words come with a bitter reminder of Melanie.
“What?” he asks.
“That sounds like something Melanie would have said. She was an artist.Used to paint a lot. She painted me for some time. Called me her muse. She hada difficult time painting after I got back. The only thing she did was thatpainting in the living room. That was actually one of the last ones she didbefore we divorced. But clearly we needed to because that was what she saw meas…or that’s who I was. Just a sad, lonely shell of a person. I felt like shitbecause it wasn’t just her husband who had abandoned her…so had herinspiration. The thing that gave her real joy.”
“I’m sure she understood.”
“Maybe too much for too long. Sorry.”
“You don’t have anything to be sorry about. That relationshipwas a big part of your life, and I like that you’re comfortable sharing it withme, even when I was such a bastard to you about it.” He pulls one hand back andruns the back of his fingers up and down my torso.
It’s strange standing here, being on display like this beforehim. It makes me think of the night he wore the thong. How vulnerable he was.That’s how I feel now, but more because of the things we’ve discussed—how muchbetter he knows me—than being naked before him, my physical weakness revealed.
He steps closer to me, moving his hand aside as he presses hisabs up against mine. My cock pushes back into my leg, but he grabs it andrepositions it, pointing it up so that it rests against his stomach.
I lean down to kiss him, but he tilts his head back, pullingaway. “No,” he says. “Not yet.”
He gazes into my eyes, giving me a moment to appreciate hisbrown irises—a deep mahogany color glistening in the bathroom’s fluorescentlight. His thick lips beg for my kiss like that’s all they were made for. Andthey remind me of so many nights where I’ve just been able to take them when Ichose to. To have them withheld from me even for a moment is a struggle.
I shift my weight on the rail and step aside so that he can stepinto the water with me.
He takes my invitation, sliding beside me so that the water runsthrough his hair, flattening it against his scalp. He turns to me, the waterwebbing across his face, dripping off his chin. His mouth hangs open as if he’sabout to say something or as if he’s about to slide my cock into it.
He moves close to me again, pressing up against me. Now thewater is streaming down both of our faces, and I can’t hold back anymore. Imove forward quickly and wrap my free arm around him, my cock runningvertically up his torso and his sliding up the side of my leg as his torsoslides slightly across the soap on mine.
We kiss in a frenzy, his hands caressing my body as I cling tohim with my free arm, kissing across his face. The water slides between us aswe enjoy this passion-filled moment. I get so lost in it that I lose myfooting.
Shit.
I tumble forward, but he props me up. “I told you I’ve got you,”he says before kissing me again.
It reminds me of how he carried me at the factory. His wordsmean so much more than just about this moment, and I’m relieved to have himhere with me. Because until he entered my life, it was without meaning orpurpose.
It wasn’t a life. It was survival. It was struggling against myfucked-up brain constantly. Now, I have a reason for all this fighting. For thewar I wage every day.
34
Jay
We hurry through our shower, and I help Reese into the bedroom. Hepushes me onto the bed and hops on top of me.
His lips travel down my body, kissing with licks and nips thatshoot jolts of excitement through me.
I run my hand down his back, enjoying the sensation of hissmooth skin, tight against his firm muscles. When I reach his ass, I grip on. Iimagine him sliding inside me as I hold onto his ass and direct his speed.Needing him faster and faster.
