If I was ever back on my feet.
Fuck, maybe I would never be able to pay him again. Cold frissons of something like fear streaked to my gut where they settled, heavy and uncomfortable, and I tried to stop thinking about anything at all.
“I have a hair oil, too. I dye a lot,” he said and pointed. “If you want to do that.”
I started chuckling as I found a much smaller third bottle and put some in my palm, ridiculously happy this wasn’t over yet. “No wonder you want someone to do this for you. It takes forever. Half the time I just use bodywash everywhere and I’m done.”
He cracked his eyes open and gaped at me in horror as I ran the oil through his hair and then rubbed my fingers in circles against his scalp. “You’re joking.”
“Nope.”
“Ew and ew.”
I laughed, and he ducked back under the water. Soaping him up was as nice as washing his hair, and I took my time running the cloth over his well-toned shoulders and arms. Stormy didn’t have huge muscles, but they were all well-defined, and I would have been just as happy licking his body as washing it. I spent more time than was probably necessary on his abs, and went to my knees to run the sudsy cloth over his legs and feet. I was careful with his balls and cock, and he combed his fingers through my hair as I thoroughly washed him there. He was plump when I was done, but he only turned and presented me with his back, and I repeated the process, enjoying his water-slicked ass. I licked my lips as I washed between his cheeks.
“Mister has a schedule to keep today,” Stormy said, but his voice was thick with need. I shivered and got to my feet, finishing up by washing his back. When I was done and he’d rinsed off, Stormy stepped out of the shower.
He snatched up a towel from the floor and draped it over his shoulders. “Ideally I would want you to dry me off and do a few other things for me, but today I’m in a hurry. I have to meet up with my friend to see about the new job.”
“Must be nice,” I muttered as he snagged the second towel off the floor and then hurried off with it wrapped around his hips. By the time I was clean and out of the shower, he had dressed in a pair of blue khakis that made his toned legs look great but were cut differently from all the other pants I’d ever seen him in. He had a matching blue-and-white-checked short-sleeved button-down tucked into the pants, and I was stunned at the transformation. He went to his walk-in and dragged an Italian-cut dark gray linen blazer out of his closet and slipped it on. No makeup and those clothes had made him damned close to business-friendly. If his hair was a natural color—“You could be going to work at city hall in that.”
He laughed. “I do know how to dress for activities other than whoring, Ross.”
I flushed. “Never said you didn’t.”
“Hmm.” He turned to his dresser and pulled out a pair of red boxers and a black T-shirt. He smirked and tossed them to me. “Dress. Nothing else. Just these. Come find me in the kitchen.” He pecked my cheek on his way past and snagged his phone from a small credenza next to the door.
The swagger in his step and the smell of clean man on the air reminded me of when my father used to get ready for the day when I was off from school on summer break as a kid.The man of the housewas getting ready for his day. I crumpled the clothes in my hands.
“Pookie! I have to go in a couple of minutes. Hurry up!”
I dressed and followed after him.
Stormy handed me a list as I rounded the corner into the kitchen and then slapped a pen down on the counter. I stared at him as he downed a protein shake that had me wincing. Was that how he stayed so fat-free and fine-cut? No, thank you. I’d rather spend an hour working out every day of my life.
“Read the list. I need to know if you have questions,” he said as he tossed the empty bottle toward the garbage.
Sighing, I glanced at it.
Send out two resumés.
Eat breakfast.
Check the fridge for old food. Dump anything gross.
Clean the floors.
Clean the shower.
Finish the laundry.
Make yourself lunch.
Start dinner if I’m not back by four.
Donottouch your cock.
“How are you going to know if I don’t do that last one,” I grumbled. Already the thought that I wasn’t supposed to jerk off had me breathing out a breath of excitement. There was nothing like being told “no” to make me want to do that precise thing I’d been banned from.
