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I grasp my throbbing dick. He chants louder, then begs, “Can we do that together?”
Hell yes. I pop up, and he pushes my back against the tiles, surprising me.
This is a sweet change of pace. I like to set the lead, but now and then, I’m all for being manhandled too.
“I want to jerk us,” he says, so bold, seeming to relish the words. “I’ve jacked off to the thought of it so many times. To you.”
I can’t deny him anything—not when his confessions make me feel like a king. “Do it,” I urge, my body crackling with lust.
He grabs our cocks, holds them together, pauses as if weighing them. He seems mesmerized by the sight of us in his hand.
Then, he strokes and fondles, playing with our cocks, squeezing them together. Picking up the pace, Hunter handles me like a man who knows what he wants. He’s focused and determined and he’s winding me up as he strokes.
I’m buzzing. My thighs are shaking. Pleasure twists inside my stomach, a warning sign.
It won’t be long.
That’s the problem.
I cover his hand with mine, slow him down. “Let me do it.”
“But…was I okay?” He sounds so worried, and my heart squeezes.
I lean in close, kiss him gently. “You’re too good. I was gonna come before you,” I admit, unashamed of how aroused I am. “But that’s not cool.”
His grin is utterly filthy. “News flash—everything we do is cool.”
Does he have any idea what my sex life has been like? Of course he doesn’t. Being with him makes me feel like I’m discovering sex all over again.
I take over, coating my palm with lube, then grip our shafts again. My other hand gets in on the action as I fondle his balls.
Hunter groans, slapping his hand against the wall by my side. His face drops against my neck.
I get lost in the moment—the heat of the shower, the feel of his firm body, the dirty sounds of our pleasure.
Then, there’s soft breath against my ear. An eager voice. A hungry rumble. “Make me come really fucking soon, Nate.”
As I jerk us, my nerves fire everywhere. My orgasm is so damn close, but I concentrate fiercely on him.
First. He comes first, dammit.
My fist flies. He grunts out a yes, so close, then a hot, dirty moan as he spills his release on us.
Yessss.
Pleasure crashes into me, knocking my world off its axis. I slump against Hunter as he shudders, and all I can think is how the world is my oyster tonight.
14
A WANKER BANKER
Hunter
I love learning new things.
As a kid, school was my playground and all my classes were a blast.
As an adult, sex class is my favorite one of all.
I’ve discovered I love blow jobs—giving and getting. I love hand jobs in any form, and I fucking adore double handy Js. That was the bee’s knees, the cat’s whiskers, the top drawer of top-notch sex tricks.
Eventually, when I can see again, hear again, I grab Nate’s gorgeous face and kiss him.
I’m afraid I’ll babble nonstop about how much this means to me, how much more I want, how ridiculously curious I am. I don’t want to ruin a spectacularly sexy night with too much conversation.
Instead, I kiss him more, hoping my kiss conveys all the things I’m feeling—you’re a delicious mix of bossy and vulnerable, and that makes me even more excited for later.
Maybe we’re talking through touch, through tender murmurs, roaming hands.
When he breaks the kiss, he looks woozy but determined. “Turn around,” he orders, then he reaches for the shampoo and spins me.
When he washes my hair, I feel even more decadent, and I don’t want us to stop. I wish I could ask him to be my sex guide next week. To come over at night in London and take me through all the things I’ve never done.
But our schedules won’t permit, and we’re only meant to be a one-time thing.
“Lean your head back,” he says, and I comply, letting the water sluice down my body.
I focus purely on the physical.
Next, he grabs the bodywash, pours some in his hands, and slides those big palms along my arms. “How was it?” he asks.
How was it?
Does he seriously have to ask? But I need to be careful or I’ll be thinking about…relationship-y things.
“Stupendous,” I say, focusing on the temporary and physical.
He chuckles. “Stupendous,” he repeats. “That’s a good one.”
“Well, stupendous is better than amazing, and amazing is overused.”
He squeezes my ass. “Good. I’m gonna make it stupendous for you later too. Take our time. Make you moan and pant and beg. Then, tomorrow, you won’t be able to walk straight.”
I’m almost ready to go again right now.
“Can we skip the concert and start straightaway?” I ask, but then I catch my mistake. Nate’s ex didn’t like him hanging with his friends. I don’t want Nate to think I’m putting up roadblocks, especially since he has VIP tickets for the show from the rock star himself. Before Nate can answer, I backpedal with a laugh. “Just kidding. I’m dying to see Lettuce Pray. Did you know the band got its start in a little coffee shop in London? In Bloomsbury, where I live. It’s this kind of artsy, hip neighborhood. Not too fancy.” Then I spin around. “And of course I’m excited to meet your mates.”
