Page 92 of Finance Bros

“Shower,” I say again.

“Bath.”

“We don’t have time to run a whole bath.”

“Let’s take a sick day.”

“Absolutely not.” I get out from under him in a quick movethat has him face planting with a grunt. Then there’s the groan as he gets up and follows me into the bathroom, walking carefully with small steps.

I turn on the shower. If all I had going on was morning wood, I’d take a leak, but while I do try, I can’t manage it. I’m too turned on. The water can’t get hot fast enough. While Malcolm is trying to look at his asshole in the mirror, I’m checking the water. It’s barely warm enough, but I drag him behind the curtain with me. “Worried about your hole?”

“No,” he says with a note of defiance.

“Let me take a look.”

“Ryan—oh shit,” he grunts when I drop to my knees and turn him around. The warming water is angled down his back, so when I put my mouth on his puffy, red hole, I get a full drink of it. I put a hand up to block the stream from drowning me as I lick softly at his angry rim. The light tang of chafed flesh threatens to send me into cannibal territory again, but I tighten my other hand on his thigh, channeling my baser instincts into a show of strength.

He muffles a cry. It sounds like he’s got his mouth wrapped around his arm or something. At first, he raises to the balls of his feet like what I’m doing hurts, and he needs to get away, so I press open mouthed kisses to the entrance that took all of me last night, and he settles back down, pressing his ass out for more after a minute or two.

I lick just inside the swelling, careful not to stretch the abused tissue. I handle his balls with gentle pressure and his cock with long, twisting strokes. He’s whimpering and speaking in incoherent bursts. His legs tremble, knees wobbling, but I’ve got a good grip on him. He’s not going anywhere.

Ultimately, because he’s him, and he brings out the worst in me as often as he calls on my better angels, I restrain my mouth to tender kisses and use my hand to get him off. His load spraysthe gray tile, and something twisted in me wants to lick the wall. It’s one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen. Fuck, Ireallyneed to come. I stand, tugging at my own dick. He hasn’t moved much, still heaving breaths while he holds himself up on the wall, and I’m too close to wait for him to help me out.

The orgasm rockets through my core, sending a few impressive jets of cum directly onto his ass. The water quickly washes it away, and I groan as another contraction makes me shoot more. He looks over his shoulder at me—at what’s happening, and then our eyes meet. His mouth moves in a silent “fuck.”

“You like that?” I ask, almost laughing.

He nods.

“Wash up,” I tell him, letting go of my cock.

He fumbles the shampoo, and it falls to the floor. I pick it up for him and squirt some into his hand before I take some for myself. As he lathers his hair with his back to me, I watch his hands working through the strands I stroked half the night. I last about five seconds before I’m covering his back and taking over. He reaches around to grab my ass, holding me tight to his body.

A little too tight now that I’ve come. “Careful,” I say. “Full bladder.”

“You don’t piss in the shower?” he asks, sounding all blissed out as I massage soap into his scalp.

“No.”

“Easy clean-up,” he says.

“You’re…” I go quiet because I don’t know what he is other than a huge fucking turn-on ninety-nine percent of the time.

“Say it.”

“What?” I ask.

“Call me a slut. It’s what you’re thinking.”

“You don’t know what I’m thinking,” I assure him.

“Say it.”

“Fine,” I choke out as he leans back against me, pushing mybodily control to its outermost limits. I give him what he asked for. “You’re a fucking slut. Is that what you’re going for?”

“Just need someone to call me on it. I pick you.”

I grunt with discomfort when he bumps backward again.

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