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I start to pump harder, faster. He responds in kind, thrusting his hips as he feels me up.
It only takes a few more times before he grunts low and deep, and then he’s coming onto my hands, onto my chest. My jaw goes slack as I watch him.
It’s…beautiful.
Is that odd? To think he looks beautiful right now? It’s in the angular cut of his jaw and his manly features all locked in pleasure, the way his muscles clench and the absolute surrender of it all—him in my hands, all mine.
It takes him a moment to orient himself again, and he doesn’t open his eyes right away. He releases a long exhalation, blinks one eye open. Then the other. He looks down at me with a lazy smile, and I grin up at him.
“You’ve really made a mess. I hope you’re happy.”
He laughs and shakes his head, looking around for something to help us clean up. There’s nothing. A maid must have come round to clean his flat because there’s not a single thing out of place in the room, except for…well, us.
“Don’t move,” he tells me before rushing down a side hall. He comes back carrying a towel, and instead of passing it over, he kneels down to clean me up himself. It’s only the beginning. I’ll still need a shower, but it’s lovely to have him dote on me like that. When we’re done, he wads the towel in one hand and reaches for me with the other.
“Come on. Let’s shower.”
“Oh, together?! Lovely. But you need to slow down! My legs are half as long as yours and you can’t just drag me along after you.”
It’s true. I think he forgets how small I am compared to him. He takes one step and it covers half the length of the room! Meanwhile, I’m left scurrying in his wake.
He laughs and slows his gait exasperatingly. “Sorry. Habit.”
We go down a hallway then turn a corner. He opens a door, and we’re in his room. I was in here before, but not during the day when I was fully awake enough to appreciate it in all its glory. It’s not like a room some lazy boy would do up if he had it his way. Oh I’ll just tack a sheet up against the window. That oughta do it. No, his room is definitely decorated, and it’s masculine. The bed is covered in white and gray linen. He’s got lovely wooden side tables with twin hunter green lamps on each side. There’s black and white abstract art on the wall and a plush rug covering the dark wood floors.
I’m amazed, really. His room is the size of my entire flat. I think my twin bed could fit over in that nook there just fine. He wouldn’t even notice.
“Come on. Shower’s in here.”
“This is your bathroom?!” I sort of shout before I can get ahold of myself.
Last time I was in here, it was pitch black. Now I can see it’s ridiculously nice. It’s just so bloody big with lots of marble and mirrors and two sinks on opposite ends so that if he had a girl living here with him, she wouldn’t have to deal with any of his whiskers—though even now, as I inspect what I assume is his side (it’s the sink with a toothbrush by it), it’s sparkling clean. Either he’s the tidiest man in the entire world or he’s got a bloody good maid, much better than Kat and I could ever do.
“It’s nice. Yeah. Nothing like I had growing up. Don’t worry—I haven’t forgotten my humble beginnings.”
He says this while walking away from me so he can turn on the shower, but all I hear is Charlie Brown teacher’s wah-wah-wah-wah gibberish because I’ve caught sight of his arse in the mirror’s reflection and HOLY BUTTOCKS, BATMAN! I could break a tooth on that thing.
He turns around to eye me in the mirror, and I frown. “I was having a lovely time staring at your derrière.”
“Yeah, well, try to contain yourself,” he teases, waving for me to join him in the shower.
“I can’t. Truly. It’s the best I’ve ever seen. I can’t wait to tell Kat about it. She’ll go mental.”
“Do you have to?”
“Talk to my friends about your arse? Of course. Why would I keep that information to myself?”
At this, he groans and tucks me up under the shower stream so I get doused from head to toe. Then he pumps some soap into his hand and starts lathering me up. I try hard to get my mind out of the gutter, but his hands feel so good, and suddenly it’s like we didn’t do anything out on his sofa. I’m ready and raring to go again.
I think I must make a little noise or whimper when his hands slide down my thighs because his eyes shoot up to me.
