I pulled back far enough to look at him. His eyes were dark, his lips swollen, and he looked wrecked.
"Make me," I said.
His grip on me tightened. He shoved the sweatpants down his own hips and kicked them aside. Then he was crowding me toward the bathroom, one hand on my hip, the other reaching past me to turn on the shower.
"What are you doing?"
"Getting you wet." He pushed me under the spray, boxers and all, and the water was cold enough to make me gasp. "You wanted me to stop treating you like you might break? Fine."
He stepped into the shower still wearing my jersey, the fabric soaking through instantly, clinging to his chest and shoulders. His cock was hard, tenting against the lower hem of the jersey.
"Get on your knees."
I sank down onto the tile. The water warmed, streaming down my face, and I looked up at him standing over me wearing my name, his cock inches from my mouth.
"You're going to be good for me," he said, pressing his thumb against my lower lip the way he had that first night in the truck, when my mouth was still split and swollen. "You're going to do exactly what I tell you. And if it's too much, you say stop. Understood?"
I nodded.
"Words."
"Understood."
He threaded his fingers through my wet hair and tilted my head back. "Then open your mouth."
I opened my mouth.
Joel fed his cock past my lips, one hand fisted in my hair, pushing slow and steady. The water streamed down around usand I tasted salt and skin and want. He pushed deeper, and I relaxed my throat, took him until my nose pressed against his stomach and his grip in my hair went tight.
"Fuck." His voice was barely a rasp. "Look at you."
From this angle, his face was hidden, just the wet jersey plastered to his torso, my number stretched across his chest. I pulled back and sucked hard on the head, tongued the slit, and his hips jerked forward.
"Hands behind your back."
I obeyed, crossing my wrists at the base of my spine, my bandaged hand throbbing dully against my good one. The position left me off-balance, completely at his mercy. He kept one hand in my hair, the other braced against the tile wall, and he started to fuck my mouth hard and relentless, like four days of holding himself in check had built up pressure he couldn't contain anymore. I took it, let him hit the back of my throat again and again, tears streaming down my face and mixing with the shower spray.
"Still think I'm being too gentle?" he asked above me.
I moaned around him, the vibration making his rhythm stutter.
"Jesus Christ, Red." He pulled out long enough for me to gasp a breath, then pushed back in. "Your fucking mouth."
My jaw ached. My knees ached. My cock was so hard it hurt, trapped against my wet boxers with no friction, no relief. I didn't care. All I cared about was the weight of him on my tongue, the sounds he was making, the way his thighs trembled when I swallowed around him.
"I'm gonna come," he said, his grip tightening. "You're gonna swallow it. All of it."
I nodded as much as I could with his cock in my mouth.
He thrust twice more, driving deep, and then he was pulsing against my tongue and I swallowed and swallowed until he wasdone. His hand loosened in my hair, petting now instead of pulling, and when he finally slipped free of my mouth, I sagged forward against his thigh.
"There," he said, his thumb tracing my swollen lip. "That's what I needed."
The water pounded down on my back. My arms were still crossed behind me, my shoulders starting to burn from the position. Joel sank down to his knees in front of me, the soaked jersey clinging to him, and cupped my face in both hands.
"Your turn," he said. He kissed me slow, licking into my mouth like he was tasting himself there, and one hand slid down my chest, my stomach, into my boxers.
His fingers wrapped around me and I groaned into his mouth, my hips bucking forward. Four days of nothing, four days of sleeping next to him and wanting him and being too proud to beg, and now his hand was on me and I couldn't think.
