“No, it didn’t.” I push wet hair off his forehead. “As a psychologist, I do have to mention that sexual healing isn’t the only kind of therapy you might need.”
Sy kisses my chin and rolls his eyes. “Indaja has already texted me.” He absentmindedly thumbs my nipple. “Maybe a session with the horses too?”
“A session with the horses? Like when you were a kid?”
“Yeah,” he answers, letting his hand drift to my semi. “It’s not the same without Blue, but it can still help.”
He noses my nipple again and fingers my loose foreskin.
I press my lips to his wet temple. “We’ll go tomorrow.”
He murmurs his agreement, focused now on touching our cocks together.
“Seriously?” I ask, amused.
Water drips off his chin. He lifts a shoulder and then slips my foreskin over his cockhead. “You said you loved me.”
His breathing becomes shallow as he presses his cockheadagainst my sensitive cockhead and works the skin between us. I move us out of the direct range of the water.
I pull back and let out a line of spit, catching it in my foreskin, spreading it around before adding another line. Sy bites his lip and takes over again, grunting when the lubricated skin slides over his sensitive head.
“I saw this once in porn.” He tightens his grip. “Wasn’t sure it would feel as good as it looked.”
I gasp.
“And now?”
“It might be my favorite thing in the world.” His chest rises and falls rapidly. “Might hafta kill someone.”
“W-what?”
He lets his head fall back as he strokes us. “Sometimes, when something feels good or tastes good…I need to kill something after. Sex with you is so good that I almost never need it, but this…ah, fuck…this might be too good.”
Given my years of training, that should disturb me.
Or at least not make me harder.
“Show me,” I command. “I wanna see.”
He holds my gaze for a moment, mouth open as he slips my foreskin back and forth. Dropping his chin, he growls low in his chest, tightening his grip. Almost too tight. Perfect. His dark energy is palpable.
I grip his throat and shove him back against the chilly tiles. Grasping my arm with one hand, he keeps stroking. His ragged inhale makes a squealing sound, barely able to pull in any oxygen. His coal-black eyes meet mine.
And for a split second, I see it.
He wants to kill. So badly he can taste it.
He comes, curling his lip, stroking me hard against his cockhead as violent thoughts play out in that flat stare.
He could kill me if he didn’t love me so goddamnedmuch.
“God, I fucking love you,” I say, unloading in that tight pocket of nerve-rich skin, doubling the pleasure.
His eyes instantly turn silver and so full of love it makes me ache.
I let go of his throat as he releases our joined cocks, kissing him even as he sucks in oxygen. “I love you so much,” I whisper against his parted lips, then dive in again, wrapping him in my arms, pulling him tight against my body.
“Oakley,” he sobs between kisses. “Oakley.”
