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“I won’t start anything I can’t finish,” I promise, tracing my lips over his throat and down his chest. He tastes like soap and man, which are now officially my favorite flavors. He’s feeling cooperative too because he holds still for me, letting me touch him however I want. So I do because this man totally deserves a reward. I lick away the water from the shower, swirling my tongue over his stiff nipples before I head lower. My body tightens with anticipation because this is going to be good.
“Sarah Jo—” He tugs on my hair, a little rougher than is strictly necessary because the man already has my full attention.
“Uh-uh.” I reach up and circle his nipple with my finger before pinching lightly. It’s not much as far as kinky sex acts go because the sad truth is, I’m a pretty vanilla person. He doesn’t seem to mind, though. He groans, his fingers flexing in my hair. My clit gives a little pulse in time to the sound. I don’t know why working him up gets me going too, but it does. I want to do him in the shower even though there’s an entire camp outside and someone’s going to know.
His stomach definitely qualifies as a work of art. It’s all hard ridges and sexy muscle. Usually I’d be busy comparing his and hers—and I definitely sport more of a beer keg than a six-pack myself—but right now I’m just letting myself enjoy. Who wouldn’t like having a big, sexy, hung hotshot at her mercy? So I take full advantage, running my hands down all those gorgeous muscles and nipping lightly, although it’s harder than you’d think because there’s not an inch of give in his abdomen.
And speaking of inches… there’s a whole lot of inches going on down below. The man’s practically packing a yardstick, and I’ve got a ringside seat. His dick is huge, and I have some dirty, dirty plans for it. I wrap a hand around the hard length, and miracle of miracles, my fingers can’t meet. He’s such a keeper. His groan gets a little deeper, a little rougher. Somebody’s feeling impatient. I pull my hand away for a second, lick the palm, and wrap my present back up. I’d go for the soap, but that would make stage two in this plan less fun for me.
I work his dick, sliding my palm up and down. At some point, I add my other hand because it wants in on the action, too. And there’s something about choosing to go down on my knees, about just taking my time and getting lost in the moment, a decadent rhythm that’s in no rush and yet headed only one place. Eventually he tugs on my hair again, trying to pull me up. I think he might be worried he’ll come on my face, which is sweet but I’m nowhere near done with him.
“This is my turn.” I look up at him. “You’re just going to have to stand there and take it, big guy.”
His laughter rumbles over my head as his hands stop their tugging. He braces himself against the wall, palms flat against the tile. “Now there’s a hard thing.”
The muscles of his abdomen demand more attention. The shiny scar from a burn is impossible to miss, a visible reminder of the risks he takes each day of the summer. I’ll just have to kiss what I can better.
“You didn’t win that fight.” I press my mouth against the mark while my hands keep using his dick as my own personal slip-and-slide. I kiss over his ribs and down his stomach. Kiss lower, brushing my cheek against the tip of his dick.
“Can’t win them all.” The words come out hoarse and needy. “Sarah Jo—”
“Shhhh.” I rub my cheek against him again. He’s all hard wrapped up in velvety goodness. “I’m not done here.”
He can’t say I didn’t warn him, right? I suck him into my mouth, wrapping my lips around the thick, slick head. His hips shift hard when I start sucking. His head hits the side of the shower, and his fingers find my hair again. I kiss and suck, swirling my tongue around his enormous cock like I’m inking his skin with our own design. He wraps me up, pulling me closer with his arms and legs, covering me with his big body. It’s almost overwhelming, but this is Pick. I need him close.
I need all of him.
I take as much of him in my mouth as I can, wrapping a hand around the inches I can’t cover. There’s a whole lot of Pick, and it’s hard to choose my favorite spot. So I explore. I run my tongue up the bulging vein, pressing against the spot beneath the head. The hands in my hair tense.
