Page 35 of Eight Seconds to Ride

“Wh-what are you doing in here?”

His body shifts a little, like he isn’t sure if he wants to turn away from me or not. He doesn’t immediately tell me to get the fuck out, though, so that’s gotta be a good sign.

Shrugging lazily, I smirk. “Figured I’d get in a nice, hot shower before bed.” Taking a step toward him, I untuck the towel around my waist, hanging it up beside his. He swallows hard, eyes dipping down for the briefest of moments before jumping back up to meet mine. “That okay with you?” I ask tauntingly.

“In here?” he squeaks. “Aren’t there other open stalls you could use?”

I don’t miss the way his chest rises and falls at a more rapid pace than when I first got in here, my proximity clearly having an effect on him.

Smirk growing, I graze my hand underneath the spray right by his chest, letting the water drench it. “Where’s the fun in that, Addams?”

He rolls his eyes. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from chuckling. Even when he’s nervous, he can’t help but be a little bit of a brat. “Showers aren’t supposed to be fun,” he says pointedly.

Reaching for the shampoo, I pop open the top, pouring a quarter-sized amount into my palm, shifting my gaze to him, brow arched. “Says who? I think you’ve been talking to the wrong kind of people.”

Nervous eyes track my every move, and when I step in front of him, he inhales sharply. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to get you nice and clean,” I murmur as I bring my lathered hands up to his scalp, threading them through the wet strands. “Only to turn around and dirty you up again.”

Music plays softly from his phone in the corner as we fall into a tense type of silence. Well, tense for him. With his shoulders nearly up to his ears and his lungs barely taking in any oxygen,he’s internally panicking, I’m sure of it. Like before in the camper, his body language and attitude are so different from his usual snarky personality. Outside of the metaphorical bedroom, he’s got no issues standing tall up against me, throwing back whatever I toss his way.

But behind closed doors, where the clothes come off, he’s shy. Timid. And fuck if that doesn’t just rev my engine right up. Makes him seem so sweet and corruptible. Even if that’s not the case, the imagery is still hot as hell.

Sterling and I are nearly the same height, eye to eye. He’s gotmaybean inch on me, if that. Bottom lip cherry red from where he’s chewing on it, his gaze keeps alternating between my eyes and my mouth. He doesn’t say anything, but his breathing is coming out in harsh pants, fingers flexing and tightening into fists at his sides.

Once finished working the shampoo into his hair, I turn his body toward the spray to rinse the suds out. His eyes fall closed, as to not get any shampoo in them, and I allow myself a moment to sweep my gaze over his bare-naked body. A tendril of heat flares through my abdomen, taking in his tight, lean figure right down to the small patch of brown pubic hair leading to an impressive erection practically begging to be touched.

Oh, you just wait, buddy. We’ll get to you. Don’t you worry.

As I run my fingers through his hair under the spray, he lets out these little soft moans that shoot straight to my balls. Once I’m sure it’s all rinsed out, I move on to body wash. Seeing as we’re not home right now, there’s no sponge or washcloth, leaving me to lather him up with my hands alone.Such a hardship.

Sterling’s eyes are back open and watching my every move. Each arm I scrub, the way I work my way across his chest and down his abdomen, breath hitching when I drop to my knees and lather each leg. His hand rests on my shoulder firmly as Iwash each foot gently before I work my way back up his legs for a second time. If possible, his eyes darken even more when it’s time for me to wash his most intimate areas.

Before touching it with my soapy fingers, I lean in, sucking just the tip of his dick into my mouth, peering up at him from beneath my lashes. Similar to the other night, his gaze is hungry. Lips parted on a soundless moan, hand still gripping my shoulder, he watches wordlessly as I suckle and twirl my tongue around, lapping up the pre-cum that drips out. After a few heady beats, I pull back, replacing my mouth with my hands, cleaning the shaft, all the way down to his patch of hair, before moving on to his heavy, relaxed balls, and then even farther back, along his taint.

Sterling sucks in a gulp of air as my fingers caress along the sensitive area, alternating between hard and soft touches.

Sitting back, I whirl a finger in the air, silently telling him to turn around. He does, and I have to bite back the groan threatening to come out becausemy Goddoes he have the nicest bubble butt I think I’ve ever seen. Unable to help myself, I rinse my hands off, bringing both to the round, firm globes, and give them both a squeeze before leaning in and—

“Ouch,” Sterling yelps, glancing over his shoulder. “Did you just… bite me?”

“Sure did.” I flash him a grin. “Now hush and let me get back to work.”

He grumbles—pretty sure just for show at this point—and begrudgingly does as I ask, turning back around. I spread him open with my hands, leaning forward, and roam over his crease with my nose. Inhaling deeply, I take in his musky, earthy scent, my mouth watering in anticipation. What I wouldn’t give to have him sprawled out on a huge bed, naked and hard, ready for me to devour every single inch of him. I could spend hours back here, worshipping his cock and savoring his ass.

Fuck, the noises he’d make if he didn’t have to be quiet. In my mind’s eye, he’d scream, his knuckles would blanch against the tight grip he’d have on the sheets, and his thighs would quiver where they were perched over my shoulders. He’d flush a brilliant red from his cheeks down to his chest, and a sheen of sweat would line his body as he fought to hold it together. But I don’t want him to hold it together.

I want him to fracture. To break apart into a million little pieces because of me.

I want him writhing and panting and needy.

I want him out of breath and begging for more, but not knowing if he could handle more.

I want to taste his desperation and breathe in his destruction. His downfall. The moment when he can’t hold on any longer, when the dam breaks and he shatters so beautifully for me.

And I can’t fucking do that in a tiny public shower stall where anybody could come in and hear us. But that’s not to say I can’t still have him in a different way. That we can’t still have a little bit of fun under the spray.

Resisting the urge to taste him, because I know if I start, I won’t be able to stop; I tap on his thigh until he peeks behind himself at me. “Body wash, please,” I request, holding my hand out.

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