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Instead, I smack my dick against his ass. “Like that?”

He shudders. “Yes.”

I nestle my cock between those cheeks, sliding up, down, up, down. His moans are a filthy soundtrack and they crank me up.

As I ride his crack in a long, slow tease, I circle my arm around his hip, then grasp his cock in my hand.

His breath hisses. “Fuck,” he mutters.

But it sounds like please. “Did you mean…please fuck me, Tanner?”

He doesn’t even try to zing me. He simply repeats, “Please fuck me, Tanner.”

My cells overheat. My skin sizzles. I never knew how much I needed those words tonight till he gave them to me.

I let go of him, curl one hand over his ass, then guide my dick inside him. When I breach Luke, there’s a strangled mutter. A garbled yes that sounds like it comes through gritted teeth.

“Does it hurt?”

“Just tight,” he bites out.

I smile. “I fucking know.”

“And you like it,” he says.

I sink in another inch, my world narrowing to the tight grip of his ass on me. “So much,” I grunt.

Rocking back, he raises his ass. “Do it,” he urges.

I comply, sinking all the way in, and holy hell.

He’s too tight. Too hot. Too sexy. We both grunt like animals.

Steady. Take your time.

I pull back, slide in nice and easy.

Luke moans. I do it again. Savoring every slow thrust. Every pump of my hips. Each sway of his ass.

And every single affirming moan from my lover.

My balls are aching. I run a hand up his back, curling it over his shoulder. “Like this?” I ask, since I need a moment.

So I don’t blow in the next sixty seconds.

He shakes his head. “No.”

Wait. What? He doesn’t like how we’re fucking? But I’m not going to be precious. “Tell me what you need.”

He looks back at me, desire and need rimming his eyes. Vulnerability too. Like this isn’t easy for him to say, but he’s going to do it anyway. “Don’t fuck me slow anymore. Fuck me hard. Pound me into the mattress.”

What the man wants…

I take his order and I raise it, grabbing that fine ass in both hands and slamming him back onto my cock. Hard. He yelps in pleasure.

Mercilessly, I fuck him, watching my dick bury itself in his body over and over. “My dick looks so fucking good in you,” I rasp out.

“Feels so fucking good in me,” he growls.

I keep up that relentless pace, pushing his shoulders down to the mattress, nailing him till he maneuvers an arm under him so he can grab his cock.

When he curls a fist around his dick, I nearly lose my mind and shoot early.

But I stave off my release, batting his hand away. “Mine. That orgasm is mine.”

“Then give it to me,” he urges.

I yank him up to his hands and knees again so I can fuck him and jerk him at the same time. When we find just the right position, my fist is flying, but I slow my thrusts.

Need to get him there. Really fucking soon.

Beneath me, he’s gasping, groaning, then pulsing in my hand. He curses incoherent words of bliss as he shoots, covering my palm with his release.

My pulse thunders, and my body speeds into overdrive.

I fuck him till I’m coming mere seconds later, gasping out a long string of bitten-off curse words till I finish with the most truthful words of all.

“Wow. Just fucking wow.”

From under me, he mutters a hoarse, “Yeah. I know.”

When I pull out, he flops down on the covers, then says, “Want to shower?”

I do. So much I smile stupidly, grateful he can’t see me. “Yes.”

His cat is watching me though. The tabby’s staring at me from the nightstand like she can see into my soul.

Like she knows how much more I want from this man.




Obviously, having sex with someone is intimate.

But showering is too. Cleaning up together is a different sort of intimacy.

I let Luke take the lead as he drags himself out of bed, looking boneless and well-fucked.

Without glancing back, he walks into the en suite.

Hmm. Did I presume too much? He didn’t say want to shower with me. He only said want to shower.

The door creaks open. A soft light flicks on. The sound of pattering water hits my ears.

Still, I don’t move from the bed. Like a peeper, I peer into the open bathroom. He sticks a hand into the small shower stall to check the temp.

Yeah, I jumped too many steps ahead. That shower will not fit two dudes.

No biggie. I’ll wait. He clearly meant we’d take turns.

I settle back onto the pillows, refusing to let the prospect of individual showers dim my post-sex high.

“Dude. Do you need an engraved invitation?”

I’m smiling again like an idiot. “I do,” I call back.

“Well, you’re not getting one,” he says, then the shower door clicks.