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Milo’s eyes go to Hope. “Will you come?”
Immediately she hops off the counter. “Of course.”
His shoulders relax as we help him stand up and maneuver around the piles of hair. While Hope gets the shower to the right temperature, I scoop up the edges of the plastic and throw them, along with the clothing, in the garbage bag with the hair and tie it tight. Then I jog out back and chuck it in the bin.
By the time I get back, Milo is under the shower spray, the water running brown down the drain. Hope stands off to the side, soaping up her hands, obviously getting ready once the first blasting spray does its job.
I shuck my pants and socks, then step inside to join them.
Chapter 31
HOPE
Milo’s head is down as the first round of shampoo washes out, but I’m ready. As Janus steps in the large shower behind us, I move forward and dig my shampoo covered hands into Milo’s hair.
His head jerks up at the contact. He obviously knows it was me. My breasts bump against his chest and he sucks in a breath. With every layer of dirt the shower blasts away, my Milo is more and more revealed to me.
His eyes stay shut because even as I lather his hair, it streams into his eyes. But it doesn’t stop him from talking. “You shouldn’t want to touch me,” he whispers. “I’m dirty.”
Oh, honey. I press my body further against his. I don’t care that the filth is still washing off his.
Janus pours a bunch of body wash in a loofah and starts washing his brother’s back while I luxuriate, spending far longer than is necessary massaging his scalp with my fingers.
Occasionally Milo lets out an involuntary moan of pleasure.
Each time breaking my heart a little more.
He’s been alone so long.
Imagining what? That we’d just forgotten him? That he was unloved?
I drag his head to my chest and into the spray to wash out the shampoo. Janus moves easily with us.
That’s when Milo begins to sob. Big, back-shaking sobs.
“Shhh,” I soothe, running my fingers through his now-clean hair. “Shhh, it’s okay now. You’re back home. You’re back home where you belong, honey.”
We stay like that a long time. This house is still a novelty to me with its endless supply of hot water, after growing up like I did. But I’m never more grateful for it than in this moment.
Only when his crying has calmed some do I ease him back up.
Carefully, I wash his face with a gentle facial cleanser. And then I grin at him to see my Milo’s face, scrubbed clean, if a little sun-blasted and burned, shining back at me.
He opens his eyes now in spite of the spray now that the soap is gone from his hair. Like he can’t get enough of where he is and he needs to keep his eyes open so he can believe it.
And I just keep soaping my hands and washing down his entire body. One by one, I lift his arms and place his palms, first one on the wall, then the other on the glass door.
I wash down his biceps to forearms, scrubbing when needed. Big, delicious-smelling foamy tufts surround him as Janus and I work around his body. I don’t use a loofah, though. I want my hands on him, skin to skin. And I can tell he appreciates it too.
Especially when I get to his groin and find his cock hard and pointed out towards me.
I smile up at him and find him a little sheepish looking.
But I just soap up and take my time with long, hard, slippery strokes.
Which makes his eyes roll back in his head.
It’s not until I reach down to really scrub and grab his balls, though, that I truly get a response. He starts to grunt with need.
“Tell me what you need,” I ask urgently. “Tell me how to make you feel good.”
“Harder,” he gasps, eyes zeroed in on me. “Rougher. Don’t be gentle.”
So I touch him rougher. I yank his balls. I’m rough.
He bites his bottom lip and bucks furiously into my hand still clutching his cock. “Use your nails. Make it hurt,” he cries.
Afraid to hurt him but wanting to give him everything he needs, dear God, I did. I used my nails on his balls, squeezing, clawing in with my nails. Afraid I might draw blood.
But that was what it took, because the next second he makes an animal noise and throws his arms around me, cock like iron against my belly as he comes furiously. My nails all but cutting into his balls.
Chapter 32
LEANDER
I lay on the horn but it does no good. Fucking LA traffic! I slam the steering wheel and smash the horn again.
All it gets me is the bird from the guy in front of me and a few annoyed honks in return.
