I closed my eyes and let him take the pillows away, let him uncuff me from the bed, from the spreader bar. His fingers were skilled as he undid the clasps on the cuffs themselves, hismouth soft as he pressed kisses over the ones he’d sealed in at the start of the night.
“No more multiplication tables?” I mumbled, rocking my head side to side before landing back on my cheek.
Marshall—who was still fully dressed—helped move me onto my side, wrapping his arms and one leg around me like an entirely different and more affectionate sort of bondage from earlier.
“You’re more present now than you were then.”
I hummed, tilting my head up and back to try and get a look at his face, but his hold made it nearly impossible to wriggle away. I tested my shoulder against the spread of his arm, and he lifted enough that I was able to untangle myself to turn and face him.
“Am I?”
Marshall hummed, stroking my embarrassingly sweaty hair away from my face. “A bit,” he murmured. “Do you have a shower in you?”
I reached out tentatively, pressing my hand against the middle of his chest. His heart beat hard and steady, pushing up against my palm with every pump.
“Alone or?—”
“Not alone,” he said.
“Then yes.”
He smiled, a fleeting thing I wanted to chase after.
Marshall helped me into a seated position, then slowly slid my legs over the edge of the bed until my feet hit the floor. We stood up together, and he didn’t even give me an option besides leaning my body weight into his. Marshall supported me and my shaky legs out of the bedroom and into the en suite bathroom which was just as modern as the rest of his house.
“Is that a steam shower?”
“Yes,” he said. “There’s a bench in there too. Go sit, and I’ll be right behind you.”
“I don’t get to watch you get undressed?”
“Did you want to?”
I angled my head to the side. “Why wouldn’t I want to?”
He made a thoughtful sound, then gestured toward the shower with his chin. “Go sit down. I’ll be right there.”
If I had more energy—or more stamina—I would have pouted. Instead, I did what I’d been told…which was kind of the whole point. After shuffling into the shower, I sat on the bench, wincing and readjusting my weight to lay off the ache in my ass and my thighs. There were definitely going to be bruises, and I wanted to see them, but I’d have to wait. Marshall followed after me, reaching in to turn on the water and the steam feature before pulling the door closed and sealing me in.
Resigned to wait, I dropped my head against the tiled wall and closed my eyes, wondering if I’d somehow slipped and woken up in some kind of alternate reality. There weren’t enough words for the things Marshall had done or the way those things had made me feel. The negotiation had been so clear, the expectations of the scene planned but not predictable. Just thinking about the ways he’d bound me and touched me had blood thickening my cock again, which should have been near impossible considering the way he’d drawn out my pleasure in his bed.
I dropped my hand into my lap, my fingers making a loose fist around my cock, and as if he had a sixth sense, Marshall opened the shower door and caught me, making a noise in the back of his throat that sounded far more pleased than it did disappointed. I slid my hand off my cock, opening my eyes and blinking him into focus.
The shower had already started to fill with steam, but the gust of air from Marshall’s entry cleared enough of it for me to make out the thick swell of his thighs, the v-cut of his hips, and the smooth planes of his stomach. His cock hung long andhard between his legs. He handed me a bottle of water, the plastic crinkling loudly in my grip. I took a trembling drink, then closed the bottle and set it beside me on the bench.
“Still horny?” he asked, eyeing me curiously after closing the shower behind him.
Suddenly, the space felt so much hotter than before.
Smaller.
I didn’t know what to say, so in reply I lifted my hips from the bench so he could see my quickly growing erection.
“Obsessed,” he said under his breath, and then he sank down to his knees with the grace of a man who knew how good he’d look once he was there. Steam whirled around him, and water rained down over both of us, and Marshall spread his hands apart against the insides of my thighs and pushed my legs wider to make room for his shoulders.
“You don’t?—”
“Put your hands behind your head, Silas. Thread your fingers together and don’t fucking move.”
