Page 173 of King of Pain
Can an ass bedescribed as well-endowed? Because that’s honestly the only way to describe Chance Sullivan’s backside.
I take my time caressing the plush, perfect globes, circling my thumb over the four-leaf clover more than once. Chance’s forehead rests against the tile, his eyes hooded in anticipation.
Deciding he’s suffered enough, I spread him slightly, providing better access. I groan at the sight and run my finger down his crease until it rests lightly on the base of the plug.
And then… I tap.
Chance sucks in a breath, his fingers clawing at the shower wall.
Before he can even recover, I start pressing on it repeatedly—gently, rhythmically.
“Fuck, baby,” he moans. “I don’t know how much more I can take.”
I’m not sure how much moreIcan take either. My cock is rock hard, pressed against his right cheek, already leaking.
I spread him open a little further and ease the plug out, holding it in my palm, stunned. It’s not long, but it’s surprisingly thick. “I can’t believe you had this in all day.”
He turns, eyes blazing with lust, lips curling into a sly smile. “In case you weren’t aware, your dick is huge. I wanted to be ready.” His tone softens. “Not to mention... it’s been almost four years for me.”
He steps closer and cups my face with both hands. “I want you to make love to me, Beautiful. For our first time—your firsttime—I want this to be about love. I want it to be good for you. I want to erase every bad memory you’re carrying.”
My heart cracks wide open.
I press my forehead to his and whisper, “I want that too.”
He grins. “Well... for the first ten minutes, at least.ThenI want you to pound the living fuck out of me.”
I bark a laugh and pinch his nipple. “Get that hot ass out of this shower, dry off, and get in that bed—fucking immediately.”
He bites his lip and turns, jumps out of the shower, and practically runs into the bedroom, grabbing a towel off the rack on his way.
I don’t follow right away. I dry off slowly, leaning back against the vanity for a moment, letting it sink in.This is really happening.
And I’m not nervous. Not haunted. Not locked in the past. No, all I feel is gratitude.
I’m so fucking glad I waited.
Mentally, I’ve been ready for this step for a while. Thank you, therapy. I could’ve just gotten it out of the way at any point—with Jason or any of the first and second dates I’ve been on over the past three years. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
Because deep down, I think I knew.
It had to be Chance.
I take a deep breath, wrap the towel around my waist, and walk toward the bedroom.
I pause at the bathroom entry, because there he is—sprawled out on top of the sheets, covers thrown on the floor. All muscle and ink, his gorgeous face relaxed, working lazy strokes over the length of his thick cock, and those eyes... locked entirely on me.
This man has the absolute audacity to callmebeautiful?
I lean against the bathroom doorway, watching. The sight sparks a memory. One I haven’t thought of in a while.
“I watched you once,” I say quietly.
“I know,” he replies.
I narrow my eyes. He smirks.
“If you think that door wasn’t cracked open on purpose, you don’t know me at all.”
