Page 63 of Sugar Baby Mine

No—hepaysme.

“Shampoo me up, then we’ll rinse.”

He throws me a look that’s equal measures pain and pleasure, blindly reaching his hand out for the bottle on the bench next to us. Instead of pouring the shampoo into his hand, he squeezes the bottle straight onto my head.

“Why are you such a psycho?”

He sets the bottle down before pushing the dripping shampooback off my forehead and running his fingers through my hair to spread it around. His hum thrums through my chest. “Why are you such a masochist?”

The motion of his arms working the shampoo through my hair subtly shifts me in his lap and now I’m just a little more understanding of Ben’s feelings. Because his cock is stretching me out, his pubic bone is pressed up against my clit and his hands on my head are working the shampoo in deep circles.

This is fucking magical.

“Why are you such a sadist?” I counter.

He only laughs. “Why do we always answer each other’s questions with more questions?”

“Because we clearly both have avoidance issues.”

He drags his fingers through my hair, tugging on the ends as I let my nose turn up to the ceiling. His lips flutter a kiss to the front of my throat, and I’m right back to being putty in his hands.

“Well, luckily I don’t want to avoidyouat all.”

That makes my insides all gooey and gross. It’s a conscious decision not to reply to that statement, because I don’t want to say something I might regret.

I run my hands over his shoulders and neck, dragging the foamy lather of the shampoo all over. My knees tighten against his hips, and I lock my wrists together behind his head as he scoops me up under my thighs and shuffles forward until he can stand. My legs loop around his waist, and he makes a grunt of effort.

“You got me, old man?”

“Always,” he says, “and we’ve gone over this, I’m not old. I go to the gym four times a week.”

I make a face at that as he stands us in the middle of the water’s spray. “What does going to the gym have to do with you being old?”

He squeezes my thighs, gripping me harder as he shifts my weight and bounces me on his cock. His eyes close briefly, and I expect it’s taking a lot for him to not just slam me against the wall and fuck me. And, I get it. I do. Because I want him to do it, too.

“So I fucked you stupid but didn’t quite get the brat out of you, huh?”

“It’s impossible,” I trill, using my leverage around his neck to help lift my hips and slide nearly all the way off his cock before resting back down. Biting my lip barely suppresses the moan that crawls up my throat as I clench around him. And I almost give in and ask him to try again, God knows I want to.

Instead, I tip my head back and reach a hand up to sift through the wet strands of my hair as the shampoo washes out.

“Well, I’ll just have to try again,” Ben says before shifting me up his cock and then back down. “And again”—he repeats the motion—“and again.”

He read my mind like I spoke the words aloud, but with the way I’m biting my lip and shuddering, maybe it wasn’t exactly a secret.

“You won’t find me complaining.”

“Weren’t you just saying you were going to regret hopping on my cock again tomorrow?”

“Semantics,” I groan before threading my hand through his hair and making sure the shampoo is washed out. “Now that we’re both semi-clean, get me dirty again with that cum inside my pussy.”

“I love the sound of that.” He leans in, nose brushing along my lower lip. I’m tempted to lick the water off his skin again. “Hold on.”

A few short steps and my back is pressed to the wall beside the shower controls, the overhead spray now only catching at Ben’s shoulders. I’m just thankful that the tile isn’t ice cold. It’s warmfrom the steam in the room, but still a stark enough contrast against the heated temperature of my skin. My back arches, pushing my chest into him just as he leans down to close his lips around my nipple.

“Oh fuck—”

He pumps into me, the slide of his cock so slick with the mess of his cum and my arousal that it’s fast and loud as he drives me up the wall with each thrust of his hips.

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