Page 93 of The Sinner's Sanctuary

He gives his head a small shake. Miniscule.

It feels like we’re both trying not to admit something it’s too soon to admit. “Can it um…” I start, but fumble, my hand trying to take a fistful of his flesh in its clenching grip. “Just be us for now?”

I can’t read the expression on his face, like he’s schooled it to stay completely blank. But his chest rises and falls heavily, and a rough swallow makes its way down his throat. “Of course,” he whispers.

Instead of sagging with relief, I tense with it. My head bobs in a quick nod. “Cool.”

He palms my cheek and lowers his mouth to mine. We kiss gently for a long moment before he pulls away with a satisfied sigh. Maybe I relax a little. Enough to say, “I need to take a shower.”

He squeezes me tighter against him. “What you need to do is clean up the mess you made of me.”

“Are you asking me to fuck you again already?”

“I could’ve done that all day.”

“ButI’mthe slut…”

“Maybe you’re not the only one.”

I grin. “All right. Come on, then.”

I don’t have a large shower. It’s more like a stall, but it heats up fast and gets the job done. When Gibson steps into it, though, I’m not sure how I’ll fit and manage to maneuver enough to clean him. Obviously, I was kidding about having sex with him in here. He’s huge, and while I probably weigh fifty pounds less than he does, I have broad shoulders and am a full grown man. He pulls me in against him regardless. It’s impossible not to have some part of us touching, whether it’s shoulders, hips, arms, or erections.

Because of course I’m hard again. He’s wet, and he’s gorgeous, and powerful, and flattering, and kissing him is almost as good as being inside him was. Or having him inside me. “I don’t know how to do this,” I say immediately. “I’ve never taken a showerwith someone before. You want me to wash your hair? Jerk you off and let the water handle the rest? What?”

He turns so I’m facing his back. “Start with my hair.”

I like that he has no problem saying what he wants, but faced with this view of him, I’m momentarily dumbstruck. No tan lines, lats I want to outline with my tongue, and an ass so round and delicious, I want to take a bite out of it.

Snapping out of it, I reach around him to grab the shampoo and squirt some into my hand. He tips his head back, letting the water bounce off his chest. Horny and unable to help myself, I lather my cock first and shove it between his ass cheeks before I put my hands in his hair and massage.

“Jesus fuck,” he groans, reaching around to grab my hip and ensure my dick doesn’t go anywhere. It slides up and down between his clenched cheeks, which feels messy and depraved. What’s weird, though, is when I try to imagine fucking him like this—his hands on the wall and his ass out on offer, I can’t.

And with as much as he seems to enjoy my cock in his crack, I feel like a Cocker Spaniel trying to hump a Mastiff. Like he’s allowing this because he gets how hard up I am.

It felt different face-to-face. I don’t know shit about bottoming or power bottoming or topping or anything. Everything feels like new territory with him. Some things feel right while others don’t make sense yet. I just want him. Even in this tiny shower. Even at his ridiculous club.

By the time I’m done with his hair, he’s got a grip on my hips with both hands, and he’s working my cock with his ass. I feel like I’m on a ride, holding onto his shoulders with my forehead against his back, panting as I get closer and closer to coming again.

“I’m close,” I say.

He turns, and I grab hold of my cock before he knocks my hand away. Grabbing my ass, he wraps his massive hand around both our dicks and jerks them together, setting a relentless pace.

“Oh fuck,” I groan. The sensation of our cocks against each other is like nothing I ever imagined. Just the sight is illicit. His foreskin has me captivated, covering and then revealing his slick, red crown. I wish for the first time I had one. It looks like it feels so good—an extra set of nerve endings—an added layer of friction.

“Thought you were close,” he says, his tone taunting and fully in command.

I can’t speak. His wrist twists, our dicks crossing in his grip and then sliding back into alignment. The third time he repeats this maneuver, I detonate, cum shooting directly onto his abs. He huffs before letting out a low warning growl that sounds a lot like a dog guarding a food bowl as his release joins my ongoing gush.

“Fuck,” he grits out. “Fuck…”

I kiss him. It’s impulsive and over-eager, borderline desperate, with my arms wrapped around him as I crush my lips to his. He lets go of our still erupting dicks and smashes our bodies together, drinking and devouring me. “You sure you wanna start this shit with me?” he asks when we both can’t breathe.

“No.”

I’m sure of nothing as he pins me to the wall and takes my mouth again. He lifts my arms over my head, and with a tight, firm grip, pins my wrists to the tile while I arch my body to meet his. With his free hand, he soaps up every place he can reach, going lighter on my backside, though nothing hurts right now.

I love the way he’s holding me down. Love that he’s put me where he wants me. That I’m someone he wants to keep in place. It’s a crazy turn on. It makes me want to do more to keep his attention. Earn it.

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