With a hand beneath my chin, he raises my face and presses his mouth against mine. There’s the taste of water and him. It’s like he has his own flavor and scent. Something purely him that I could pick out of a crowd of thousands. No problem. He’s mine and I’m his and this is what’s good and right in our world.
How he groans when I grip his dick and pump it slowly. The skin so velvety soft with steel beneath. And touching is all good and nice, but tasting is even better. Down on my knees, the warm water runs over my hair and down my back and shoulders. And it dilutes the salt of his skin but not the precum I lick off his crown. I tease him with the tip of my tongue. The veins working their way up the length of him. This feels like a benediction, tending to him this way. Taking the end of this long, lovely night into the warm steam of the shower.
I suck on the head of his cock good and hard. Then trace the flared rim around the crown and the small slit sitting atop. And his hands are in my hair, and my name on his tongue. I massage his balls with one hand and grip him hard with the other. Taking him as deep into my mouth as possible. Hollowing my cheeks and working him over until his knees weaken.
“Fuck,” he says in a guttural tone. “June. Come here.”
We haven’t fucked in the shower before. But he reaches for the condom he left waiting by the door and rolls it down his thick length. Watching him handle himself is fascinating. How he’s so matter-of-fact about a part of him that fascinates me to no end and drives me wild. From the dark trail of hair heading down and the wide, blunt head of his cock and the muscles in his strong thighs.
There’s nothing slow and easy about this. We’re all raw hunger and need. Connecting right now is the only thing that matters. I wrap my arms around his neck and he lifts me, bracing my body against the shower wall. With my legs around his waist, he lowers me onto that hard length. Nirvana is takinghim into me. Feeling the thickness of him going from opening me up to being buried deep inside.
He draws out torturously slow to start. Making us both groan with the sensation. Then he pushes back hard, pressing my spine against the tiled wall. We should always be doing this. Spending our days having sex in every room of his house. And he apparently owns more houses, so we could move on to those once we’re done here.
The broad head of his cock pushes into me and his breath is hot on my neck. No idea how we managed without this. It seems like a life half-lived. Because the hard thrust of him lighting up my insides makes my world come alive. Nerves fire and spark and my brain just blanks. There’s just him and his body against mine. How full he makes me feel when he’s deep inside.
I hold on as tight as my limbs can manage as he thrusts into me. Sensation building higher and higher for both of us. My skin is electric and every muscle down low is hyperaware of his presence. I want to cling like this to him forever. Feel the firm grip of his hands on my ass cheeks. And all the while, the sweet, sharp pleasure tightens between my thighs.
There’s a shout when it hits me. The sound of a plea or his name or I don’t know. My brain is blank and my body both light and heavy at the same time. My inner muscles grip him tight and he grinds against me, shoving his dick in deep as he comes. He doesn’t set me down for a while. I stay wrapped in his arms, pressed against the shower wall, with his face buried in my neck as we both relearn how to breathe and think, and so on.
And I know I love him and I want this forever and ever. But something makes me hold this inside like a secret. As if it wouldn’t be welcome so soon or something. There’s a good chance it’s my fear of rejection working overtime. We’ve had a long, emotional day and we’ve been drinking. Now is not the time for serious conversations.
Tomorrow, when we’re clearheaded, would be better. Once I’ve decided how to communicate this vital piece of information with all due sincerity. What words to use, etcetera. And I need to tell him about Farmer’s visit so we can bond further over our mutual dislike for him.
After we have breakfast at Grandma’s seems like the right time. That gives me space to decide what I want to say. Decision made.
Grandma is seated at the head of her kitchen table drinking a cup of tea. “Bernadette made a point of telling me neither of you are welcome at mahjong.”
“I’m far too busy with canasta and the bridge club,” says Nash, setting down a dish stacked with pancakes in front of us. “And then there’s the chess group to be considered. It’s going to be great.”
Angus is also seated at the table, playing an acoustic guitar. “That guy last night doesn’t really expect me to take up crochet, does he?”
“Wade?” I ask. “It wouldn’t surprise me. How long are you planning on staying in town?”
“That depends on what my brother wants to do with the new songs.”
“You’re serious about the idea of touring smaller places?” asks Grandma.
Nash shrugs and takes a seat beside me. “I have to admit I’m tempted. Just need to give some thought to who I want to work with. Which producer and label and so on.”
Grandma glances my way, but says nothing.
“You can work wherever you like, right?” Nash asks me.
“Yes.”
“And what’s your take on traveling?”
My smile is hesitant. I don’t think I realized quite how much the idea of him touring was messing with me. The idea of us spending long periods of time apart would make me uneasy. “You want me to come with you?”
He just nods. Like it’s no big deal and of course I was always invited.
“I’d really like that,” I say.
“Some parts suck.” Nash winces. “I’m warning you now…touring can be a bitch.”
“But we’d be together.”
“And that’s what’s important,” he confirms.
