She giggled. “I suppose they’re all right for a treat. Every once in a while.”
“How about now?” My hand slid up her stomach, palming her breast as I kissed my way to her mouth. My dick came alive, pushing against the crotch of my jeans. “Can I have some now?”
She set her beer on the counter and took my face in her hands, sliding her tongue along my lips. “Yeah. Want to show me your bedroom?”
Without another word, I took her hand and led her up the stairs to the loft bedroom, which was above the kitchen.
“Aha. You have a shade on this window, at least.” Natalie went over and pulled it down, and the room into shadow.
“Only because I like to sleep in, and that window gets morning sun.” I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her away backward. “Come here, you. It’s been hours since I’ve seen you naked. That’s not right.” Lifting her shirt at the bottom, I pulled it over her head, then undid her shorts and yanked them down.
She turned to face me, sliding her shoes off her feet before taking off my shirt. For a moment, she stood silently, looking at my bare upper body. Then she put her hands on me, running them up my arms and down my chest. “I used to look at you,” she said, her fingertips brushing my nipples, which made my cock surge with lust. “That last summer before you left, I used to look at you and wonder what it was like to touch you this way.” She unbuttoned my jeans and slid a hand inside them. “And I felt so guilty,” she whispered, bringing her lips to my chest, her fingertips playing with the tip of my cock. “I knew it was wrong, but sometimes I saw you looking at me, and I wondered what you were thinking.”
“Uh, safe to say I was thinking about fucking you.” I reached between her legs and stroked her softly through her panties. “I used to imagine your body naked under mine, your back arched, your legs spread.” I slid my hand inside her underwear, teased her open. “I’d think about touching you this way, making you wet.”
Her breaths coming faster, she wrapped her fingers around my dick and worked them slowly up and down. “And then what?”
“Then I’d have to go take a shower so I could jerk off.”
She looked up at me. “Show me. I want to watch.”
Oh, fuck. Was she serious? “You do?”
“Yes. Let’s take a shower together.” A devilish little glint flashed in her eyes. “And I’ll let you watch me too.”
I stared at her in disbelief. “You are such a bad girl right now.”
“I know.” Rising up on tiptoe, she whispered in my ear. “You can punish me later.” Then she took her hand off me and sauntered through my closet into the adjacent bathroom, stopping to look over her shoulder in the doorway. “Well, come on, cowboy. You brought me all the way here. Don’t you want to play with me?”
I stared at her in complete fucking disbelief. What the hell was this? She was out-Miles-ing me! She was so hot and had me so off-kilter, I didn’t even know what to do with myself!
Get it together, Haas. Natalie Nixon is standing in your bathroom doorway in a little white lace bra and panties, and she’s asking you to play. This is what you do—you play. You don’t have Emotions, you don’t have girlfriends, and you don’t have time to stand here wondering if the life that’s being upended here is yours. Now get the fuck in there and do your thing.
But even as I grinned and ditched the rest of my clothes while she watched, biting that juicy bottom lip of hers, the floor seemed to tremble beneath my feet.
I had no idea what possessed me to ask Miles if I could watch him jerk off in the shower, but now that I was here with a front row seat, I thanked my lucky stars I had. Hot water streamed down his body while steam billowed up around it. It was a feast for the eyes, and I could hardly get my fill. Where to begin? From bottom to top, he was simply delicious. I sat on the tiled bench and he stood in front of me, feet planted wide. His legs were so muscular—I’d forgotten how taut and toned they were from years of soccer and running. His cock was hard and thick, slipping through his fist in long, slow pulls, making my clit pulse with desire. Water dripped from flexing muscles in his forearm, shoulders, abs. It ran down his chest over the points of his hip bones and down his thighs, tempting me to drop to my knees at his feet and lick it up. The ink on his body was wet and shiny, and his chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. He used his right hand on himself; the other was fisted at his side. Sometimes he looked down at what he was doing, but mostly his eyes were on me.
“Is this what you wanted?” His voice was low and even.
“Yes.” I moved to the edge of the bench, closer to him.
He stepped back. “Uh uh. No touching.”
“But—”
“You wanted to watch; you’re going to watch.”
I stared at his cock, solid and slick, darker than the skin on his stomach, and lined with thick veins. Licking my lips, I looked up at him. “Please?”