Page 47 of The Silencer

His eyes flash up to mine, and I stare at him, not giving him any hints.

He nods and swallows. “Right.”

He reaches past me again and grabs the soap before standing and running those soft hands across my chest, spending far too long on my nipples. And then he moves down my arms, first the one that’s injured, carefully skipping past the bandage before threading his soapy fingers between mine.

For a second, it feels like he’s holding my hand, but then a moment later, it’s just a wisp of memory as he moves on to the other arm and does the same thing, dragging my heart right along with him.

When he gets to my waist, he kneels and starts to work on soaping up my legs. He’s methodical, washing every muscle with careful consideration. His head brushes against my semi-hard cock, and the feel of his soft silver hair against me makes something flash through me. A shock, a jolt to my system.

I shouldn’t look down, and yet even as I think it, my hand threads through his silky hair and tugs.

He gasps, his eyes flashing up to meet mine, his lips parting wantonly.

“Anthony, do not tease me,” he whispers, and I feel that flash again, blinding me. “My dick is already at its wits’ end…”

I tug his head toward my dick and feel it perk up when he breathes against it.

A low moan echoes through my skin and settles in my balls. I feel them clench and fill, feel my cock come alive.

It hardens and thickens against his cheek and mouth, and I feel his lips trail across it as it does. I can feel him breathe on me, lick, suck until I’m fully erect and throbbing.

“Oh my god,” he says, his words being washed away down the drain.

I stare at him, mouthing my dick, not sucking me down his throat, but just tasting me. He moves from my side to underneath, to pulling my balls into his mouth and rolling them around his tongue.

He’s good at this, better than he should be.

Anger roils inside of me, possessiveness, a threat to unknown men who have had this as well.

No one should have this but me.

My balls fall from his mouth, and he kisses and licks his way to my tip, his knees moving him directly in front of me, kneeling, submissive, and yet, I know he’s anything but.

My fingers tighten in his hair for a second before I release him completely, moving my arm up to grab on to the side of the glass shower wall. I stand there, my legs parted, my arms holding me upright, my dick straining out in front of me.

Tatum’s eyes hold mine for a minute, waiting, wanting.

Permission.

I don’t say anything, just watch as he presses his lips to my tip, his tongue snaking out and licking across my slit. A low moan escapes him, as if this is the best thing he’s ever tasted, as if this is his dream come true.

When he falls onto my dick, I feel that switch flip completely.

And I’m lost.

8

TATUM

Ican’t believe I’m sucking his dick. His big, long, thick dick. My lips stretch across his length as I bring him into the back of my throat, far too turned on to even gag. I just grab on to his ass cheeks, one hand on each strong, muscular globe, and pull him down my throat.

My eyes never leave his, never wanting to miss a beat of it, of how he’s feeling.

And even now, I can’t tell what’s going on inside that mind of his. He’s just watching me, his strong, tattooed arms stretched out, holding on to the sides of the shower as he lets me take him.

Fuck, I don’t even know if he likes it.

His nostrils flare as he watches me, his cheeks turning a darker shade of red. And the fact that he’s letting me do this… He could easily stop me.

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