Page 52 of Pose for Me
Ryell doesn’t miss a beat. He simply cups himself alongside my dick, jerking us off together. The feel of his hot skin and hard dick against mine has my balls seizing and my orgasm shooting from my body without warning.
I shout, digging my fingers into his shoulders as my legs buckle from the strength of my eruption. Ryell wraps his arm around me to keep me upright but doesn’t stop stroking us through my nut.
When I’m drained dry, I slump against him, my head blissfully empty.
I only come back to myself when he grunts his release, his warm seed coating my belly. I moan at the feel of him, wishing his cum was dripping from my hole.
“Fuck,” Ryell whispers, jerking us in a loose fist. The sensitivity is a lot, but I don’t stop him.
When I open my eyes, I find Ryell looking down at me with a lopsided grin on his face. “You okay, Agent?”
I chuckle tiredly. “I’m good. Guess I needed that.”
Ryell sets me on the shower bench. He grabs a cloth, adds bodywash, and washes me thoroughly.
When he’s done, he helps me stand and rinses me off, then cleans himself quickly.
Grabbing my hand, he pulls me closer, wrapping his arm snugly around my waist. “Let’s get you outside.”
I grin happily, ready to feel the grass under my feet.
Twenty-One
Ryell
Lane wipesthe steam from the mirror and looks at his reflection, his eyebrows dipped.
“What’s up?” I ask, standing behind him without touching him. If I do, I’ll have him bent over the counter, sucking and licking at his hole until he comes and then I won’t get to take him outside. I told him I won’t break my word to him again, even if it’s something as small as going outdoors. Any rimming has to wait until he gets some vitamin D.
He runs his hand over his facial hair, still scowling. “Can I have a razor? I don’t like the beard. I never grow one. This feels…weird.”
I raise an eyebrow. While I have razors since I don’t like a beard either, I removed them for my safety and Lane’s. I’m not sure where his head is, and if he’ll try to take himself out as opposed to staying with me. And I also didn’t want him to find a way to separate the blade from the handle and try to hurt me.
He might be weaker than me, but a well-placed slice will kill me, no matter his strength.
But if I want Lane to trust me, I have to trust him, too. So I step out of the bathroom—not bothering to cuff his ankle since he would have to get past me and my closed bedroom door torun—and step inside my closet. Right near the door is my safe. I put in the combination, then open it, pulling out a brand-new razor.
When I return to the bathroom, I see Lane has already added shaving cream to his cheeks and chin.
I hand him the razor, but before I let it go, I say, “Do I have to shave you?”
I’m sure he knows what I’m asking:Will you try something idiotic with this sharp razor blade in your hands?
Lane shakes his head. “No. I just want to get this hair off my face. That’s all.”
I hold on for a second longer, then release the razor. Lane turns to the mirror and runs the blade down his left cheek in a smooth motion. He sighs almost in ecstasy and after rinsing the blade off, does it again.
More and more of his face comes into view, and I see how much weight he’s really lost. An unexpected pang shoots through me as I roam my gaze over his body. I’ll make sure he eats and gains back his weight. He looks good to me like this—I’m sure he’ll always look good to me—but with his skin hanging off him and his belly hollow, he’s…incomplete.
After a few more minutes, Lane is sans beard, happiness evident on his face. “God, that feels good,” he murmurs.
I grab the lotion from the counter and pump some into my hands. Reaching around him, I rub it onto his cheeks, soothing the naked skin.
Lane meets my eyes in the mirror and gives me a small smile. “Thank you.”
I grunt, though I grin at him. “Ready to go outside?”
He nods, his face shining with eagerness.
