Page 57 of Claimed By the Cowboys

I refuse to stalk Piper in my own home. Not when she’s been recently put out of hers, and not when things feel so… tender between us. So, I wait for the shower to cut off before I head up the stairs.

Thankfully, Piper appears to be in another room. I strip, quickly hopping in my shower, the heat both a searing pain and a balm to the bruising across my chest. It does nothing, however, to calm the blood that’s rushing to my cock.

Piper. God. All I want is her. All I think about is her. I can’t fucking believe that Tate thinks we have a shot at convincing her that we are going to work.

Mostly, I can’t believe that I haven’t gotten my own chance with her yet, either.

My hand drifts down, circling my rigid cock. I groan, the water rushing over me, as I think of Piper touching me. Her lips wrapping around me. Her hands, cupping my balls, kneading them.

Fuck me. Would she take her time, feeding me into her mouth one inch by aching inch? Or would she even let me? Would she prefer to bend over so I could fuck her from behind?

I groan again, much louder this time. One of my hands shoots out to the side of the shower, my fingers wide on the tile, as I slowly pump myself.

“Piper,” I grunt. God, I can picture it. Her on her knees, her soft hands on my thighs, her lips…

“Brent! Oh my god, I’m here!”

I freeze. Piper is in the bathroom.

I don’t have time to move. Don’t have time to hide. Because she throws open the shower curtain, her face tight with concern. “Brent! I heard you call my name, are you?—”

I see the exact moment that Piper figures out that I’m fine. I’m real fucking fine.

Her eyes go round as she realizes what I’m doing. Her pretty lips part, a perfect pink circle, and the sight makes me twitch. Which, of course, Piper notices. Because she’s staring at me, buck naked in the shower. Jacking myself off to thoughts of her.

Her nose wrinkles, and she backs away. “Oh. I’m… Um… Sorry… I’ll just… you need…”

Piper grabs the shower curtain, trying to pull it back, but my hand snaps out and holds it.

“Stay,” I rumble.

Piper hesitates.

I shut the shower off. Both hands are free now, but I carefully balance myself as I get out of the shower. I’m dripping onto the floor of the bathroom, and I don’t give a single fuck.

Because Piper’s eyes haven’t left my cock this entire time.

I swear, I can feel her gaze like a brand. She’s staring at me, and when she swallows and licks her lips, I think I might die from arousal.

“You like what you see?” I rasp.

Piper meets my eyes, just for a second. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.”

“I like it,” I say.

She freezes. For a second, I’m worried that I’m fucking it up again. That she doesn’t actually want this, and Tate is wrong. The apology is on the tip of my tongue. The shame of this moment is knocking on the edge of my awareness.

Then, I see a shadow in the bathroom door behind.

“Oh, I think she does like it,” Tate says.

Piper whips around and looks at him.

“Tate!” she squeaks.

Tate looks at me, ignoring Piper. “I think she does like it, Brent.”

“Why do you think that?” I growl.

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