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I reached up to brush more hair from his beautiful face. “I will always want you, Tris. In my bed or otherwise.”

His eyes widened, and I remembered that despite his outward bravado and carefree nature, Tristan had some very deep wounds. He hid behind his life-of-the-party persona, but he’d let me see who he really was underneath. He’d let me in. And I would cherish that—cherish him—like he deserved. I resolved right then to never take this man or his trust for granted.

He blinked a few times, and I saw his usual joviality fall back into place. It wasn’t always a mask, just another facet of his personality, and I loved both equally. I just hoped he kept showing me every side of him.

“Well, good,” he replied, sitting up in the bed so I could admire his smooth, lightly muscled chest. Yep, that was totally the reason he did it. “So . . . shower with me, Daddy?”

***

My dick had been hard since the moment Tristan had called me “Daddy” the first time this morning, and following his naked perfection into my massive shower after we’d quickly brushed our teeth and took turns in the separate toilet room—it was nearly impossible to piss with a hard-on, ask me how I know—wasn’t helping it go down any time soon. I salivated over his perfect bubble butt as he crossed my bathroom, only stepping aside after he’d opened the glass door so I could get the shower going. Once I’d confirmed the water was hot enough, I glanced over my shoulder to see Tristan’s eyes on my own behind. How a guy in his twenties thought my old ass was sexy was beyond me, but I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. I was going to bask in it.

I didn’t spend the majority of my limited free time working out for nothing.

I flexed my cheeks, and he gasped as his eyes shot to mine. I grinned when he blushed yet again. I was becoming addicted to the sight.

“Ready?” I asked, nodding toward the massive shower. The glass was already starting to steam up, and suddenly I wanted to see his handprint in it as I fucked him from behind.

Or maybe mine as he ate me out. I wasn’t picky.

“Hell yeah,” he shot back with a grin, clearly over his shame at being caught ogling my backside. He brushed past me and stepped through the open glass door and under one of the two waterfall showerheads. I stepped in next to him, pulling the door shut behind me before stepping under the other falling stream.

I watched Tristan tilt his head back in the water, wetting his mass of dark curls. I’d never seen him without a full and often chaotic head of hair, so the privilege of experiencing him like this, with his thick, dark hair flat against his head, was another gift. I stared so long that he was wiping his hand down his face to clear the water from his eyes and smiling back at me before I noticed he was done.

Feeling my face heat, I tipped my own head back to wet my silvery hair, feeling rivulets of water trail down my gray beard, hairy chest, and muscled torso. Water even fell tantalizingly over my dick, and I shivered at the sensation as want filled me to the brim. I found Tristan’s eyes as I took a step toward him. The stream hit my back and ass, making my lust ratchet up further.

Fire flashed in Tristan’s gaze as he took a step toward me, closing the distance between us. I’d shared this shower with a few men, but none had even come close to filling me with such a burning desire. My cock throbbed as a thousand scenarios ran through my head, all more dirty and depraved than the last.

I wanted to break this man apart so I could put him back together again.

But my sweet Angel Baby clearly saw this morning going differently. Tristan reached for me, and all thoughts scattered as his hands pressed against my chest. He glanced up at me, our slight height difference turning me the fuck on, his lashes wet and gaze enticing. “Let’s get you clean, Daddy. I have a goddamn sexy ass to eat out.”

My entire body lurched at his filthy, complimentary words as motherfucking need for him crashed through me like waves. I grabbed his head in my hands and yanked him toward me, capturing his lips with my own. I kissed him like a parched man in the desert who’d just found water, and his tongue met mine stroke for stroke.

His moan echoed through the bathroom over the sound of the running water, and he pressed into me, his naked body flush with mine. His hard cock dug into my thigh, and I could feel my own against his rock-hard abs. God, his body was utter perfection. If I had all weekend, I was going to explore as much of it as I could with my hands and tongue.

But not right now. Though I had a large water heater, hot water wasn’t inexhaustible, and the longer we were in here, the more likely it was that the water would turn cold. Though with the way Tristan was kissing me right now, his minty breath tasting like my toothpaste, I found it hard to believe we couldn’t indefinitely generate enough heat to warm a small city.

When we pulled back to catch our breath, Tristan reached for the bar of soap I kept in a small alcove and started lathering up his hands. His words were soft and somehow life-changing. “Let me wash you, Henry.”

I fought against tearing up as he lovingly—there was no other way to describe it—washed my neck, chest, back, legs, and feet before moving up to clean my most intimate places. My eyes fell shut as his hands caressed my still-hard cock, cleaning it and my heavy balls before gently spinning me around. I placed my hands against the steamy glass—my handprints, as it turned out—and arched my back, just a little, offering my ass up to him, surrendering to his will.

In this moment, he could do anything he wanted to me. And I wanted that. I fucking craved it.

Tristan’s hand caressed my cheeks, covering them with slippery soap bubbles before his fingers delved into my crack. Before last night, I’d never been touched there by anyone other than myself, and the sensation of his fingertips skating across my hole and dipping inside heated me up until I felt like molten lava. And like a volcano, I thought I might explode if he didn’t keep going.

Tris reached for a shower attachment and held it over one shoulder then the other, slowly washing away the soap bubbles. He spun me around, stroking my hard cock while rinsing it off under the pelting stream, the water feeling like pinpricks in the best way, making my already aching cock sensitive.

Then he turned me again, and I resumed my position, pressing my palms against the glass once more.

“Step back, Daddy, and lean over a little more. Stick that ass out. I want to see your sexy pink hole.”

Holy shit. Tristan had the dirtiest mouth on him, and I wanted to get it even dirtier, so I followed his command, arching my back until my ass stuck out and I could feel my cheeks spread.

“Deeper, Daddy” came the next command, and I shuddered again as I arched further, spreading my legs apart.

Nothing happened for a second too long, and I wondered what Tristan was waiting for. But then a quiet “your safeword is red, Daddy” was whispered into my ear just before a jet of water blasted against my exposed hole. I shouted my surprise, and my sweet Angel Baby—or was he a devil right now?—just laughed. I wouldn’t have guessed he’d have been able to move one of my built-in shower jets into quite this position.

But now that it was, I moaned. It felt good, but it was intense. So intense that I squirmed in place, trying to find a more indirect angle.