Page 44 of The Club

I wait him out. He needs to answer me.

He tries. “Sometimes I … don’t know how else to …” He swallows hard again.

It’s my fault. He was coming apart and I knew it. I let it happen. I won’t do that again.

“I have control of you now,” I tell him.

His gray eyes come back to me, and they are so fucking vulnerable that I drop the washcloth and bring my body against his. He shudders and relaxes. We stand there for a while, still except for our cocks twitching against each other between our bodies.

I take his face in my hands, brushing my thumbs over his bruises. “Do you understand?”

I half expect him to say no, to fight me. I’m sure he knows that if he does, I’ll force the point. I’ll turn him around, get rough, fuck him into submission. Usually, that’s what he wants. Usually, that’s whatIwant.

But right now …

He nods. I close my eyes and start rolling my hips, stroking my cock against his.

“Ahhhh,” he breathes as I frot him. “Shit.Yes.”

I open my eyes to watch him. His pupils are blown. His lips are parted. His wet hair is slicked back to bare every delicious feature of his face between my hands.

“Get the soap.”

He reaches blindly for a bottle, grabbing whatever is closest. I leave one hand lightly on his jaw and neck. I hold out the other. He squeezes something into it. It’s creamy and slick.

He tries to put the bottle back but drops it when I reach between our bodies and take our cocks in a loose grip. I don’t squeeze. I want to feel my dick gliding against his. I want to feelevery pulse that makes his cock twitch against mine, that makes mine answer in kind.

“Just let it feel good,” I tell him, not sounding like myself, not even sure whether I’m actually talking to him or to myself.

It does feel good. His cock and mine twitch and pulse and glide. My whole body lights up with the sensations. My balls draw up tight, aching. My ass flexes with every thrust. His face is inches away.

While my right hand traps our cocks, my left drifts to his throat. His eyelashes flutter at the light squeeze. His lips part. I kiss him.

He moans into my mouth as I take full control of his body. I taste and nip and explore him, squeezing his throat every time he needs it. I tighten my grip on our cock to increase the pressure.

Of everything we’ve done, this feels the most intimate. I need to own him. I need to dominate him. I need to be violent. But this …

I like this too.

He grabs my hips, pulling me hard against him. His hands roam, tugging at my lower back and my ass.

It triggers my aggression. My pin him harder against the shower wall. He squeezes my ass. I’m not used to being touched there. I don’t know if I like it, but it does turn me on. I roll my hips, rubbing the head of my cock against his within my slick grip.

The kiss breaks and I even lose most of my hold on his throat as I bring my face alongside his and frot the shit out of him against the wall. I start sweeping my thumb over our cockheads.

“Ah, fuck,” Rafael gasps, his body tightening, his hand grabbing hard at my ass. “Fuck.Fuck!Dominic—hnnn! Hnnn!”

His cock kicks against mine as he comes, triggering my own orgasm. We both cry out as we spill all over each other.

I stay against him through the aftershocks, loosening my grip on our dicks but not letting go. His hands skim upward over my slick back. Like it has a mind of its own, my thumb strokes his jaw as I draw back.

I retrieve the washcloth and go back to work. Neither of us say anything through the rest of the shower, but there’s something different in the way we touch. Something far more tender.

Twenty minutes later, I’m sitting in Rafael’s kitchen/bar, shirtless but wearing a pair of his sweatpants, as he runs the espresso machine. He’s wearing sweats too, plus a t-shirt. Except for at the gym, I’ve never seen him dressed casually. Comfortably. It’s sexy as hell.

He brings me a double espresso and sits down with his own cappuccino.

“I guess you don’t cook much,” I comment.

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