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Oh fuck, he’d spent the night. Did that mean he now had to do the walk of shame mixed in with a solid dose of that whole awkward morning-after routine?
“Mornin’, cupcake,” Jack rumbled, his voice sexier than should be allowed on a Monday morning. “Did you sleep well?”
He had, surprisingly enough. No bad dreams about the whole attempted robbery thing, and Jack’s larger-than-life physical presence hadn’t bothered him either. “Very well. Your bed is amazingly comfortable.”
“Just my bed, huh? No mention of me?”
Hmm, no awkwardness so far. No shame either. If that was how Jack wanted to play it, George was on board. “The way your tool is poking me isn’t exactly conducive to sleep.”
A low laugh reverberated through Jack’s chest. “Mmm, you weren’t complaining yesterday.”
“Fuck, no. Best dick I ever had.”
Crap. Had he really just said that? Hopefully, Jack would take it as the lighthearted remark it had been, although George had meant it.
“Aw, cupcake, look at you being all nice before your coffee.”
Coffee. Oh god, yes, please. He must’ve made a sound because Jack laughed again. “I spoke the magic word, didn’t I?”
“I’d kill for a cup of coffee.”
“Why don’t you go take a shower, and I’ll make us some breakfast?”
Oh. Wow. Not what George had expected, but he was down for that. “Sounds like a plan.”
The steel arms around him let go, and strangely enough, he felt the loss deep inside him, as if something precious had disappeared. Weird.
Jack and he rolled out of bed at the same time, each on their own side. Jack stretched, his neck popping as he lifted his arms above his head. George’s eyes were glued to the show, drinking in the man’s perfect body. Six foot four of furry muscles and then with that thick cock standing at attention, practically begging for his worship.
Jack slowly fisted himself, winking as he caught George’s stare. “Is my dirty boy hungry for more than coffee?”
George dragged his eyes away. Right, coffee. Priorities. “I’m afraid I need that caffeine first, big guy. Coffee, then cock.”
Jack laughed. “Fair enough.” He pointed at the adjoining bathroom. “Shower’s in there. Towels are in the closet. Take your time.”
George refused to be weird about walking naked toward the bathroom. Jack had seen literally every inch of him the night before, including inside him, so getting embarrassed now was kinda ridiculous.
All thoughts about shame were forgotten when he spotted the massive shower. Rather than a bathtub he probably wouldn’t have fitted in comfortably anyway, Jack had opted for a gigantic walk-in shower with glass sliding doors, gorgeous mosaic tiles in various shades of blue, and best of all, two showerheads. Glory hallelujah.
George quickly did his business, then grabbed a towel—oh, nice and fluffy!— and turned on the shower. The water took a minute to get warm, but when it was, he moaned when the beams hit him. Holy shit, this was what showering was supposed to be like. He closed his eyes, letting the water rain down on him for a moment while he mentally woke up.
When he opened his eyes again, Jack stood at the other side of the glass doors, his cock in his hand. “Wash yourself,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.
George swallowed. “Yes.”
He squeezed some shower gel into his hands, then rubbed his chest, peeking at Jack from between his eyelashes. The man’s gaze was intense, like a hot caress on George’s skin. He’d circled the base of his cock with his left hand while his right held the top, moving up and down. He was clearly getting rid of his morning wood, using George as visual stimulation. Fuck, why was that so hot?
He slipped his hands lower as he soaped himself, lifting each leg to wash all the way down to his feet. Jack never said a word, but his hand sped up. George turned around, offering the man a clear view of his butt, then bent forward and spread his legs. He had to clean his ass, didn’t he? He looked over his shoulder and slipped a soapy finger inside himself.
The glass door slid open. “Stay like that,” Jack commanded, and George stilled.
The slick sounds of Jack fisting himself rose above the water falling down, and so did his low grunts. Seconds later, Jack’s load hit George’s lower back and ass, sliding down before being washed away by the water. Jack let out a long sigh.
“Thanks for the show,” he said, rinsing off his hand. “I’m gonna make us some breakfast.”
George’s cheeks were still heated when he turned the shower off a minute or two later and rubbed himself dry. Being used as jerk-off fodder shouldn’t be that hot, right? Something must be wrong with him if that aroused him. He pondered it as he got dressed, frowning when he saw the stains on his pants. He hadn’t even seen them the night before, but those must’ve happened when he was thrown down. Fuckers.
When he walked into the hallway, the smell of bacon hit his nose, his stomach rumbling in response. Coffee and bacon? Jack was a god, like Zeus reincarnated, hopefully minus the incestuous obsessions with his sister and his kids, though. George came to a full stop when he walked into the kitchen. Holy shitballs, now there was a view he’d like to see immortalized on some sort of hot kitchen men calendar.
