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I could easily slide my dick into him, but I won’t.
I can’t.
“Skylar,” Diablo gasps and then without warning he bursts into my mouth as a low, feral groan moves out of him and travels into me, my throat working as I suck his cum down until he’s wrung dry.
“Oh my fuck,” he murmurs as I clean him up with my tongue, my fingers stilling inside of him. My eyes travel up his body, taking in his trembling muscles and the pretty pink flush of his skin.
“Do you feel better now? Do you think you can now sweep up the mess you made?”
He throws an arm over his eyes and shakes his head.
“No, because I can’t move.”
I press against his prostate once more and watch as he jumps, his cock trying valiantly to give it another go. But it can’t. It’s given all it could and now it’s done. At least for a while.
“Alright then. How about this…shower and then you come out here and clean it up.”
He doesn’t agree, but he doesn’t give me hell either so I know this is the best solution.
I pick him up, his body slippery against mine as I walk him into the bathroom. I don’t plan on getting in with him, but when he sags against me—his face against my chest, his hands clinging to me—I strip down and pull him into the small stall without another word.
What’s the harm? I mean, really.
I’m keeping my eyes on him. This is life or death.
I’m being the best bodyguard.
I should get a raise.
CHAPTEREIGHT
DIABLO
My legs are like jelly, my arms barely work either. He sucked my motivation to fight right out of my dick.
“Close your eyes,” Skylar says softly, his fingers massaging shampoo into my scalp. A small part of me wants to refuse, but I can’t manage it right now. I had the orgasm of a lifetime and my brain and body are going to do what he says.
My eyelids flutter closed and Skylar grunts as he tilts my head back, letting the water rush over me, washing away the suds.
“You wanted to fight me on that, didn’t you?”
I peek an eye open and attempt to roll it, but I end up unable to do it—requires too much coordination. And his hands feel far too good on me, caressing me slowly and carefully, a bar of soap in his hands as he washes my stomach and then my back, focusing a little too long on my ass.
But then again, there’s all that oil there. Maybe he’s just trying to get it off. Maybe it has nothing to do with him liking what he sees.
The thought makes something unbearable flutter in my stomach.
“Is this what you do for all your clients?” I ask, holding my breath.
Skylar huffs. “Fuck no.”
Good.
He turns me around and his hands wrap around my spent dick, cleaning it thoroughly before he squats down and washes my legs. I don’t know how he manages it in this small shower, but he does. My forehead presses against the wall, my hands splayed out on either side as he washes me down. It feels so fucking good, every touch a slow murder to my will.
I have never in my life been touched like this. Tenderly, almost reverently.
I hate it. Hate that I want it. Hate that when this is all over I have something to look back on and yearn for.
