Page 16 of Daddy's Grumpy Cowboy

“And I’m covered in lake water,” I reply, smiling into his thick neck. “Shower with me?”

Licking his lips, he replies, “Okay.”

Grabbing his hand, I lead him upstairs, heading for my bathroom. It has a walk-in shower that will be perfect for the two of us—just big enough that we won’t feel cramped. There’ll be plenty of space to prep too.

“I normally top,” I admit as we get into the bathroom, throwing it all out there so there are no surprises. “But I can bottom if you like?—”

“I don’t top,” he cuts in, interrupting me while tearing off his shirt.

A thrill shoots through me. Partly from the prospect of drilling into his sweet ass, partly from his enthusiasm. “Oh really?”

“Yeah,” he grunts. “Don’t try to take my role from me again.”

Oh fuck, he really likes to bottom then. That’s exciting.

Once his shirt is gone, I step forward, planting my mouth on his neck again. I love kissing him here. “Demanding little cowboy, aren’t you?”

“Not little,” he hisses as my teeth graze his throat.

“No, not little at all,” I agree, dragging my hands over his muscular stomach. “But you don’t mind if I make you feel little, do you, baby?”

Instead of answering, he curves an eyebrow and asks, “Because you want me to call you Daddy?”

“Only if you want to call me Daddy,” I counter teasingly. “I could live without it if it meant having you.”

His breath hitches at my admission. “I don’t want you to give it up, Daddy.”

My eyes threaten to roll. Fuck, that word coming from his lips is so good.

“Yeah?” I rasp, cupping his erection through his jeans. “Keep that in mind then, big boy. I expect you to call me that when I make you paint the fucking sheets.”

“Why wait for the sheets?” He smirks, looking at the shower. “I bet you could make me flood the tiles in there.”

Fucking shit, he’s perfect.

We attack each other after that, shredding the remainder of our clothes and stumbling into the shower while swapping messy kisses. It’s hurried and hot, the warm water washing away the day as we make out under the spray.

Like we can’t help it, we lazily wash each other with my soap, exploring each other’s bodies while getting clean. Caleb spends a fair amount of time just lathering my dick with bodywash and I don’t complain once.

“You want me to prep you, baby?” I ask against his lips.

“You better,” he says with a husky groan.

“Mmm, someone’s feeling mouthy,” I tease.

“I’ll call you ‘Daddy’ all you want, but I’m not getting rid of my attitude,” he declares.

Oh, if he thinks he’ll have the ability to sass me after I pound him into the wall, he’s never been fucked the way I’m going to fuck him.

“We’ll see about that, cowboy,” I taunt, spinning him around so his back meets my front. “I don’t think that attitude of yours will translate through your whimpers while I’m milking your fucking prostate, big boy.”

Punctuating my words, I squeeze his asscheeks into my hands.

“Fuck,” he whispers, just loud enough for me to hear him over the rushing water.

Grabbing a bottle of lube from my shelf, I pour a generous amount in my hand and make sure the spray of the shower isn’t in my way before spreading him open. While he isn’t covered in body hair, he’s got some here, dark little curls down and into his crack.

I groan at the sight, locating his puckered hole with my fingers and slathering the lubrication over it liberally. I don’t know how much he plays with himself, so I’m definitely proceeding with caution. Hurting him even a little bit would make my chest cave in with guilt.

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