“Are you ready for me?” he asks, peeking through the edge of the shower curtain. His eyes widen as he takes in my body. “Shit. I’m not ready for this.”
I watch through the crack of the curtain as he begins stripping his clothes off, he hops around on one foot as he attempts to get his socks and pants off at the same time.
“Take your time. Don’t fall.” I warn him.
“There won’t be any taking my time until my hands are on your body.” He never breaks eye contact with me.
As soon as the last article of clothing hits the floor he rips open the shower curtain and comes in, standing close to me with his hands resting on my hips and his hard cock against my belly.
“I don’t know what I’m doing.” I admit quietly. Nerves now getting the best of me. “I’ve only been with Jack and I don’t think that I’m good enough at this.”
“We don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready for, Aubs.” A kiss to my forehead cements that he really means it.
I really don’t think I’m ready. It’s been so long since I was even with Jack. What if I’m not enough, like Jack always said. What if he doesn’t want to do this anymore and I turn him off? I’d be devastated. Not to mention, I already started it. I’d always get in trouble when I kissed Jack and then tried to reject him taking it further and I’d have to suffer through something I didn’t want.
“But I started something. It’s okay, I’ll be okay.” I repeat it not only for him, but trying to convince myself.
“I can’t do that. If you aren’t here with me, I won’t. Come on, let’s clean up and we can watch your show in bed, yeah?”
I drop my head, staring at the water sluicing over our bodies. “No. I started it. You deserve me to finish it. I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”
He cups my cheeks, holding my gaze to him. “I will not be hurt. You aren’t ready and that’s okay. Your husband just passed away not even a year ago. I totally get it. And from what I’m gathering, things weren’t great. I’m here for whatever you’re ready to give me. Nothing more.”
“Okay.” I don’t know what else to say. I want him, but I feel like I shouldn’t want him. I’m a new widow. What will people think? I shouldn’t want to do this with him. And I don’t know if I’m ready for any of it.
He kisses me deeply and backs us up until my head dips under the spray to wet my hair as his hands massage into my scalp, letting the water soak through my thick layers of hair. Then the scent of my shampoo fills the space as he begins to massage that in.
When was the last time someone took care of me like this? Never. That’s the answer. I can’t even remember the last time I had parents to take care of me. There’s always been something attached to it, a favor owed.
“Cooper.” My whisper is clogged in my throat with tears.
“Shh. Just enjoy this. I want to take care of you.”
I want to take care of him too, so I squirt some soap into my palm, lathering it up and running my hands over his chest. He rinses the shampoo out of my hair while my eyes close, hands still roaming his body.
This is the most intimate moment I’ve ever shared with a man and it makes me question why I’m not ready for anything else. I’m not under any illusions that Jack was a good man, or treated me kindly.
Jack and I were legally married, but we weren’tmarried.There were no intimate moments, just moments of scratching an itch. At least he was loyal in that regard. I hope anyways, given recent events I can’t be too sure.
My hands travel south along his abs, to where I can feel his hardened cock. Do I want to do that? Do I want to touch him?
The answer is yes. And this feels safe. It feels safe without the pressures of things needing to be more.
I reach down, taking his cock in my hand as his body stills at the contact. I move my hand up and down, testing the waters and he moans in my ear.
“You don’t have to do this, Aubs. I want you to be one hundred percent sure.”
I slide my hands down his shaft to grip his balls, giving a light squeeze. His head falls forward to rest on my forehead.
“You feel so fucking good gripping my cock.” He moans more as I continue the movement. “Can I return the favor?”
I nod, agreeing, our foreheads moving together.
He lathers soap in his palms, starting with my shoulders and working his way down to my breasts. He pinches at my peaked nipples.Fuck, that feels good.
He travels around to my back and down to my ass, squeezing my cheeks.
“You have the most perfect ass,” he says through strangled whispers.
