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“You don’t mind if I shower with you, do you?” he asked.
“No, you did sweat a lot at the bar, ” I reasoned with a smile. As I tested the temperature with my hands, Chase swatted my butt with a towel.
“I didn’t hear you complaining,” he said as he tugged the edges of his boxers down to reveal how defined the V from his waist down to his groin was. And I wanted to lick that area until his knees wobbled. Until he was begging me to take him into his mouth and suck him dry.
“I wasn’t.” I took my time taking off my top and his focus drifted below my face, his breath heaving in and out of his chest. I shook my finger at him. “And because you swatted my ass, I get to wash you…everywhere.”
“Babe, are you trying to call the shots?”
I really liked it when he called me babe. Chase edged closer until he was right in front of me. He lowered himself and pulled down my skirt. He tore my black thong from my mound. The pressure caused my clit to pulse. Bringing his face an inch from my little circle of pubic hair, he inhaled me, making a noise that sounded like his voice was strangled in his throat. My body flushed scarlet red.
With a self-satisfied expression, Chase pulled down his boxers and his girth protruded past his belly button and forward. A sprinkle of hair surrounded his cock. He opened the shower curtain. The lukewarm spray dampened his face. He held out his hand to me and I clutched onto him because my knees felt like jelly. His bare ass flexed as he went into the far corner of the shower.
Compared to my ex Gregory, Chase was truly magnificent with his sheer strength and an overall powerful physique. “Hand me the washcloth,” I tried with my most stern face, but Chase chuckled at me, following my command. I crouched down in order to get the bar of soap that I absentmindedly left on the edge of the shower, and lathered the washcloth. And as a consequence, his cock jerked.
“My fucking dick,” Chase said with a shake of his head.
I gripped my hand on the dial and shot him a glare. “We’re naked.” I cornered him and took his hand, and guided the tip of his index finger into my entrance. He sucked in a harsh breath and then he moistened his lips. “Fuck, babe. You drenching my fingertip,” he said, and lightly hit his head against the shower wall.
And my eyes zeroed in on his erection. I took a step backwards directly under the water and he dropped both of his hands. “Yes. That’s not from the water.” My voice came out as a hoarse whisper. “And I am gonna get wetter. This”—I gestured between us—“is how you make feel. This is not random or meaningless. It’s all you.”
“Make me clean.” His voice was faint.
I didn’t say anything because there was an intense vulnerability in his hazel gaze. His eyes hadn’t aged like they did on many men with strong features like him. And, for a split second, his hazel eyes clashed with his brutish beauty. I worked up some more foam since the lather had been washed off from the water. As I scrubbed his outsized shoulders, he pivoted so that I worked on his back as he raised his hands upwards, planting his hands on the tile walls. While his body was not bulky, the muscled planes in his back contracted as he broadened his stance for me. I pressed the washcloth onto his back, digging my fingers into it. A gratified noise escaped his lips, reverberating through his upper body. His brawny legs matched the thickness of his arms. I hung the towel over my shoulder and speedily reached for the bar of soap, and then I rubbed it between my hands. The vibe was more tranquil. I’d never met a guy who’d been insecure about how being promiscuous he had been or was. I didn’t want him to define himself by his past behavior anymore, but he had to come to terms with that on his own.
“You didn’t want any barrier in the way when you can have your hands on me alone, huh?” He gave me an easy smile. The front of his body was open to me again.
“Nope,” I said. “I couldn’t wait to get my hands on you.”
I tried to extend the heels of my feet to wash his neck and down to his chest, almost falling on my butt. He took hold
of me, his hardness coming in contact with my stomach, but I maintained eye contact with him. I gathered my bearings just when he dipped his head to me, his hands propped on my hips. As Chase kissed me voraciously, my heart thudded wildly in my chest.
Afterwards, I caught my balance and soaped up his dick, followed by his large and weighty testicles. I continued in between, over his taut buttocks. Rinsing my hands, I retrieved the washcloth again, cleansing his neck first, then his jaw and his sharp cheekbones, where he had his deep scar on the right side of his face.
Once I scrubbed his t-zone, I queried, “How’d you get your scar, Chase?”
Leaning into me, Chase put us both directly under the spray. He rubbed his forehead, the muscles in his corded neck, arms, biceps and triceps firming more than I thought possible as the soap ran over the ridges of his abdomen, down his manhood, and over his powerhouse thighs, his knees, and ankles. Gently, he took the cloth from me, and began to roughly wash his surprisingly smooth feet.
“I got into a fight,” he answered minutes later.
Worry constricted my chest. “Over what?”
“I was young and very dumb. I don’t like to revisit that time of my life,” he replied, like that was a satisfactory answer.
“I think the young and dumb part applies to a lot of people.” I paused and rinsed the washcloth. “Are you ever gonna tell me what the fight was about?”
I looked at him through the rush of water. Chase shifted his gaze to his hands. “Babe, I’d like to say yes, but I won’t lie. In general, I don’t go there and I find no good can come from thinking about what happened way back when.”
I crossed my arms over my breasts, feeling very exposed. “But you don’t think that it’s a part of you? It can’t be healthy to keep that to yourself.”
“I’ve moved on from that. I am in school, I am apart of a great football team. I have a contracted job that I am gonna start any day now. I’ve got you, and the rest of our friends.” He said it as if he was spelling something out to me. His evasiveness, coupled with the cooler water, doused my arousal and my good mood.
“Does Pierce know what the fight was about?” I asked. “I know that you don’t really talk to Rylan, or Joel, or even Gavin since you moved in here. But Pierce is your best friend.”
His expression flattened. “No, he doesn’t pry.”
“Oh, is that what I am doing? Prying into your life? My boyfriend’s life?”
