Not when I have other plans in mind.
When I step out of the shower, I grab the towel and begin to dry myself off with it.
Ansel is shifting on his feet, trying not to look at me but unable to pull his gaze away.
“You left the water on,” he says, his voice raspy.
“Better get in, then. The water heater out here is probably old. Never know how much hot water is left.”
He narrows his eyes slightly, and I shrug. “Plus, don’t you want to keep an eye on me?” I hop onto the counter, the towel falling open and my hard dick standing erect. “I’ll just wait right here.”
He hesitates a moment and then murmurs something to himself before pulling his shirt off.
“This is your punishment. You can look, but can’t touch,” he says, trying to convince himself that this is a good idea. I know he doesn’t think it is, but I absolutely do.
Because it is a punishment to not touch, but it also makes me ridiculously horny. It will make finally touching him totally worth it.
He shucks his pants and turns around, pushing his underwear down as well. Every part of him is exposed to me now. And I hungrily gobble it up. The round shape of his pale ass, the smattering of hair on his legs, and a watercolor tattoo sitting on his lower back.
I blink and lean forward, trying to make it out, and nearly gasp when I see what it is.
“Is that a butterfly?” I ask, and Ansel peers over his shoulder at me, covering his dick with his hands, even though I can’t see it. I want to peek at it, but he’s angled away from me.
“Yeah.”
“Oh my god,” I whisper.
He turns his gaze away from me and steps into the shower, water sprinkling the floor as he reaches for his soap.
He has to bend down slightly to get it, and I tug on my dick as he does it. That ass. That fucking ass with the butterfly right there.
It’s so damn perfect I nearly come from the thought of it.
Of pushing him up against the tile of the shower, spreading his cheeks, and sinking inside.
He’d squirm on my dick, the sheer length of it making him scream before I’d tug on his cock and make him come. I’d feel his rim pulsing around me and it would be my undoing.
His gaze flashes over to me, and I pump my cock harder, unable to stop myself. His eyes move to my arm, my hand, and my dick, and his mouth parts in a silent pant.
I don’t want him to look away. I just want to keep giving myself this relief.
And it comes quickly, barreling through me at impressive speed. It happens when he leans back slightly, still not showing me his front, but I don’t need it. His back is perfection. The way his spine arches, the way his ass flexes—it’s enough to have my imagination soaring.
And my dick. My orgasm pummels through me, and I’m left gasping as my release explodes.
Ansel hears my groan, his body shivering as the sounds echo around him.
And when he turns, I see it all. His pale chest, his puckered nipples, the happy trail leading down to his beautiful, gorgeous cock.
I can’t help myself. I can’t stop myself. I forget everything about letting him rest, too enraptured with the sight before me.
I move toward him, sinking to my knees on the wet floor, my hands going behind my back as I mouth him.
He moans, his hands sinking into my hair, pulling me closer. Rough. Using me. Fucking me.
I groan loudly, my dick already trying to rally, trying to come once more.
It could, too. With my butterfly, anything is possible.
