Page 185 of Pucking Sweet

He presses in, mouth slanting to taste me. Heart in my throat, I open for him, kissing him back. He’s fully dressed and soaking wet, but I’m naked. Anywhere his hands touch, they’re touching all of me. I’m fighting a shiver, even under the hot water.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he says against my lips, pressinghis forehead to mine with his hands on my shoulders. “Cole, what do I do?”

“I don’t know either,” I admit, my hands at his waist over his wet T-shirt. “Do you wanna stop?”

He pulls away, searching my face. “I don’t wanna stop. Doyouwanna stop?”

I take a breath, the water pounding on my neck and back. “I don’t wanna stop.”

“What do I do?”

I smile. “Why don’t you start with taking your clothes off.”

He blinks, as if he’s only just realized he walked in here with them on. He flips off his hat and kicks off his shoes, hopping like a flamingo on one leg to peel off his wet socks. Next to go is the shirt. It slops down to the shower floor, leaving him with all his colorful ink on display up his arms and over his shoulders. He has other ink too—over his ribs, along his side, down his hip.

He tucks his thumbs into the top of his shorts, about to tug them down, when I stop him.

“Wait.”

He looks up at me, concern and rejection blooming on his face. “What—”

“Lukas, what the fuck is this?” I grab his arm and pull it to the side of the shower spray, tilting it up. There, wedged between a standing figure of Anubis and a pinup girl, is a small, cartoonish drawing of a hairy cock and balls.

He grins. “Oh, that.”

I rub my thumb over it. “Lukas, this is fucking permanent. Is this a goddamn tattoo?”

“Yeah.”

I stare at him. “You got a tattoo of a cock and balls on your arm?”

Still smiling, he just shrugs. “So? I liked it. Poppy drew it, and I was feeling nostalgic…and maybe a little vulnerable.”

“How did you do it?”

“I showed a picture to the artist.” He covers it with his hand. “Do you really hate it?”

Shaking my head, I cup his face in my hands. I’m gentle with the all-but-healed cut, pulling him back to me. “You’re fucking crazy, andI love you. Now, get on your knees, and show me how much you like a real one.”

Grinning, he tugs his shorts to the floor and kicks them aside. Now we’re just two coulda-fooled-me straight men naked in a shower. I let my gaze trail down his muscled chest to his abs, to the cut “V” of his waist. The man is completely hairless. I’ve never really paused to notice before. “Do you wax?”

“Duh. Why don’t you?”

I skim a hand over the sparse coils of black hair on my chest, my fingers brushing over my raised sternotomy scar. “I don’t know that my chest hair is gonna get in the way of you sucking my dick…unless you’re just really bad at this.”

Chuckling, he drops to his knees, his hands on my hips, my hard cock in his face. “This is the first dick I’ve ever sucked. Buckle in, bud. We could find out I have a rare lockjaw condition.”

Stopping him with a hand under his chin, I tip his face up, my back blocking him from getting a face full of shower spray. “This is theonlydick you suck.”

“First and only,” he says with a grin. Then his mouth is on my tip, and I’m bracing my hand against the goddamn shower glass. He’s not as finessed as Poppy, but we’re giving him an “A” for enthusiasm. He wraps a hand around my base, keeping one at my hip, and starts teasing the underside of my shaft with his tongue.

Okay, fuck me—no, this is good.

He pulls back with a slurp, looking up at me. “Good?”

I groan, the sound low in my throat. “Mhmm. Don’t stop.” I put a hand on the back of his head and direct him back on my dick, my other hand still pressed against the shower glass. I apply pressure, guiding him to go deeper as I make little thrusts with my hips.

When he groans, the vibration goes down my dick and straight to my gut, warming me up inside. Fuck, I’m already close. He groans again, pushing back into the pressure of my hand. “Go harder,” he commands.

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