Page 56 of Riptide

Foxx breaks the kiss first, his forehead pressing to mine, breath shaky. “Tell me what you want,” he says, voice rough and barely there over the hiss of the water. I’m stunned for a beat because he usually likes to take charge, and I love that, but this soft side, him asking, is hitting a spot in my chest that’s entirely new to me.

I reach between us and wrap my hand around both of us, our cocks pinned side by side. He stutters out a breath, hips twitching into my fist.

“This,” I whisper. “I want this.”

Leaning in, he kisses the corner of my mouth, my jaw, then lower, down my neck, where he sucks my skin with a pressure that makes me whimper. I stroke us slowly, the slide slick and easy, but the weight of both of us together makes me leak and drive my hips harder into him and my hands.

I press him gently back against the cool tile, his back arching into the warmth of my chest. His eyes flutter closed, lashes wet, lips parted.

“You feel so good,” I murmur, nuzzling behind his ear. “I could stay here all day.”

He groans as I tighten my grip, hips thrusting up into my hand. “Fuck, Finn…”

My other hand slides down the curve of his ass, palming the muscle there, holding him still while I work us both. I catch the head of his cock sliding against mine, sensitive and flushed, and my body coils tight in response.

Then his hand is moving down my back too. The pads of his fingers skim my spine like he’s counting each vertebrae. Whenhe reaches the base, the curve just above my ass, he pauses. His mouth is still at my neck, lips parted, breath hot.

“Can I?” he asks huskily, his beard brushing skin, making me tingle all over.

I nod into him, quick and eager, like my body is half a second ahead of my brain. “Yeah,” I say. “Yeah, please.”

He leans around me, moving toward the bottles lined up on the side. I hear the flick of a bottle opening and turn to see him squeezing lube onto his fingers. A bubble of laughter escapes my lips as I fail to hold it in.

“You have shower lube?”

He turns to look at me, deadpan. “I’m a single guy. I can have whatever I want in my shower, so yeah, I’ve got shower lube.”

That’s a pretty fucking valid answer, and as he steps in closer again, I forget why I found it so funny in the first place, because now I’m just grateful.

The hand on my back trails lower, and when he cups me possessively, bringing us closer together, need spreads like fire beneath my skin, aching and electric, pulling a breath from my chest. He’s not being rough or fast, and I appreciate that. I’ve been bottom and top before, but I have to admit, it’s been a while. Nerves flutter at the edge of my consciousness, but as soon as his fingers ease between my cheeks, gliding with the lube, lightly circling the tight muscle there, I focus on him and force myself to relax. “Lift your left leg and wrap it around my hip.”

I shiver in his arms, more from the anticipation than the touch itself. My cock pulses against his, and he groans again, louder this time as I do as he says. It’s a little tricky to keep my leg there because we’re both slick from the water, but as soon as his finger returns to my ass, determination sets in, and I stay completely still for him to do what he wants to me. “I want to take my timewith you,” he murmurs, his finger teasing me, just there but not pushing. “Wanna feel you open up for me.”

My hand stutters as I rub both of us, then picks up again as I nod, giving him the go ahead again. I’m not letting go of the friction; I need it. Our cocks are slick between us, his breath faltering every time my thumb swipes over our tips, but it’s getting harder to keep my rhythm steady.

Then he presses in, just the tip of his finger, and my knees nearly give out.

“Shit,” I gasp, forehead falling to his shoulder, holding myself up.

“You okay?” he asks, kissing the side of my face, not moving until I answer.

My grip tightens on him as I nod. “Yeah, yeah— I just…” I laugh, breathless, already gone for this feeling. “Give me more.”

His finger eases in farther, stretching me open just to the first knuckle. It burns, but not in a way that makes me want to stop. It makes me want more. When he crooks it, searching for that sweet spot, I inhale so deeply it rumbles from my body to his.

“There,” I choke out, my body locking tight. “Jesus— Right there.”

He groans like he felt it too, burying his mouth in my neck, sucking, adding to the sensation of everything, as he keeps working me open with small, purposeful thrusts. It’s so much and still not enough. My hand is slippery, my strokes growing uneven as pleasure builds low in my spine, coiling tighter every time he presses into me.

“You like that? Like the way I stretch your pretty hole?” he whispers, voice shaky. “And you’re taking it so well. Look at you, fucking yourself against my hand already.”

And I am. I can feel it, my hips moving on instinct, grinding down on his finger and back up to drag against his cock and my hands, chasing that heat with a desperation I can’t hide. Therhythm between our cocks grows messy and fast and wet, the drag of skin-on-skin made obscene by the way I’m falling apart in his arms.

“Can you come like this?” he asks as he grabs more lube.

“I don’t— Fuck, maybe. Don’t stop,” I pant, every nerve ending lit.

He adds a second finger, and I cry out into his shoulder, everything clenching, white light flashing behind my eyes.

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