I laugh. "I hope you don’t shower with your friends."
“Well, I did play football,” he says, pressing me against the shower wall as soon as I step inside. “But none of those guys were nearly as hot as you are naked.”
“I hope not,” I say before his mouth covers mine. His hand slides along my naked body, slick with water, and I lose myself in his touch. He spins me around, washing my body slowly, with a more careful touch than I’d expect.
I protest when he insists on washing my hair, but he pulls me tight against his wet body, his hardness pressed against my lower back, arm over my chest, kissing my ear until I’m barely able to think, let alone tell him no. "Let me take care of you," he says, and I lean back against him, my eyes closing as he washes my hair.
He washes my freaking hair.
Slowly and...erotically. I had no idea hair washing could in any way be sexy at all, but I swear Luke has a way of making everything pretty much the hottest thing ever. He massages my head until I’m moaning at his touch, as the shower water runs over my body, taunting me, reminding me of the emptiness between my legs.
"Is this good?" he asks.
"Mhmm, good," I say, my words barely intelligible.
He chuckles, his mouth close to my ear. The sound of his laughter is warm. "Good," he says.
"So is this a younger guy thing?" I ask, goose bumps running up my back as he massages my neck, his hands moving down lower across my shoulders.
"Is what a younger guy thing?" he asks.
"Mmm, I don't know," I say, my voice soft. "All of this. The sex, the hair-washing. The whole thinking-I'm-hot thing.”
He doesn’t speak yet. Instead, he slides one arm around me, holding me against him while he reaches around between my legs, finding my clit. His erection presses firmly against me, and the throbbing between my legs begs for his attention. "I hope not," he says finally. "Isn't that what...men your age...do?"
I choke out a laugh, partly at what he says and partly at his hesitating choice of words. Men my age. "Uh...no," I say. "Not exactly."
He rubs my clit in circles, sending a thrill of arousal ricocheting through my body. "Sweetheart, that's a damn shame," he says. "And I do mean that."
Then he's kissing me, down my neck and my shoulders. I’m dizzy, drunk with lust and fatigue. "Condom," he whispers. "Shit. Hang on."
I only have to hang on for a minute, my fingers on my clit while he steps out of the shower, and when he returns and sees me touching myself, he groans. "Fuck, Red," he says.
"What?"
"If I weren't so worked up already, I'd make you do that a while longer, just for me."
He's behind me, the way we were a moment ago, and when he enters me, I'm already swollen with arousal. "Keep doing it," he whispers. "Keep touching yourself while I fuck you."
"Do you like that?" I ask, as he fucks me, his movements perfect, bringing me higher and higher so quickly it takes my breath away. "Me touching myself?"
"I fucking love it," he says.
So I tell him how I’ve touched myself, how I’ve fantasized about him, sliding my fingers inside me while I’ve thought about what I wanted him to do to me. He growls, spinning me around and lifting me up to impale me on his cock, my back against the shower wall. I wrap my arms and legs around him, clinging to him as he thrusts inside me.
And begging him to fuck me harder, whining for it. Desperate for it.
"I had to see the look on your face when you came,” he says. “I can't get enough of it."
"Shit, Luke, I'm so close.”
"Tell me what you thought about when you touched yourself," he says, his words punctuated by thrusts inside me.
"I thought about you," I say. "I thought about your cock."
"Tell me what you thought about exactly, sweetheart," he says. “I want to know.”
"I thought about your cock in my mouth," I tell him. "I thought about sucking you."
"Oh shit," he groans, thrusting inside me, and I'm so close. "You thought about me coming in that sweet mouth of yours?"
"I thought about you fucking my mouth," I say before he brings his mouth down on mine again.
"Shit, Red," he says. "I can't get enough of fucking you. I can't get enough of this tight *."
"Oh, God." I'm slipping against the cold shower tile, water and shampoo running down my face, but all I can think about is how hard Luke’s cock is inside me, how swollen it feels, like it’s ready to explode.
He takes my lip between his teeth, biting down and sending a pang of pain through me, bringing me even closer to the edge of oblivion. "Oh hell," he says. "Are you going to come on me? I want you to come on me, baby."
He doesn't even finish the sentence before I let go. My orgasm triggers his, and I can feel him explode into me, shuddering as I cling to him, consumed by my own pleasure.
"Fuck," he says, looking up at me. My heart is still pounding in my chest, my breath short. "Some friend you are."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Luke