Rand’s eyes flick from the meatloaf to me. His gaze lingers in a long, slow slide up and down my body. The giddiness ramps up as I feel a rush of dampness between my legs. Normally, when I feel the signs of lust coming on, my body and persona tend to take on a life of its own. I know how to work my assets and incite the same lust in someone else with either a particular look or a sway of my hips.
But right now, I’m not feeling the need to do that with Rand. In fact, I feel a little off kilter. Rather than give him a sensual look of invitation, because let’s face it—I would not say no if he wanted to have sex right now—I blush even deeper if the heat in my face is any indication.
Rand notices this because I don’t miss the quick flash of amusement on his face but rather than make me feel uncomfortable about it, he merely gives me a boyish smile and asks, “Do I have time for a quick shower before we eat?”
“Sure,” I say, because the food isn’t going anywhere.
“I’ll only be about five minutes,” he says as he turns toward the bathroom. I figure I could use the time to set the table, but then I see him peel his shirt over his head as he walks away from me and all thoughts of plates, utensils and napkins evaporate.
And this time, the dampening of my panties is enhanced by a cramping need of want low in my gut. Just looking at his naked back roped with lean muscle and colored with tattoos incites me to near madness with desire for him. I look back to the meatloaf, and figure it’s safe enough where it is. I look back to the bathroom, where Rand has shut the door. Noticing it is not quite shut all the way, I wonder if it’s an invitation.
I look back to the meatloaf and consider my options.
Rand originally made it clear that there were no expectations of sex in exchange for his generosity in letting me stay here. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t sex, as evidenced last night by the repetitive and stellar sex we did have. I’ve had that beautiful man in my body before at The Silo, but last night was different. Last night, it was personal and moving. It was in the sanctity of his home. It was within a caring embrace. He saw me as more than just a vessel, and I literally felt the difference in the very marrow of my bones.
So last night had nothing to do with paying him my share of the rent. That was because he wanted it and I wanted it.
The meatloaf is definitely a gesture of my gratitude, but if I were to walk in that bathroom right now, would he know it’s because I want him and that it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with payback?
Only one way to find out.
I drape the towel in my hand over the warm pot of mac and cheese before walking to the bathroom door. I can hear the water running and the unmistakable sound of hot spray against skin. Before I can talk myself out of it, I push against the door and slip inside.
Rand’s bathroom is small, but it does have a tub against one wall with a navy blue shower curtain that completely hides him from my view. I can only imagine what he looks like on the other side… maybe rubbing soap all over the planes of his body, or maybe his eyes are closed and face serene while he washes his hair.
But before I can wonder any further, I hear a low groan issue from the other side of that curtain. I recognize the nature and tone of that sound because I’ve heard it often before, and I know exactly what he’s doing now. Without hesitation, I step forward and peel the curtain back a bit near the foot of the tub.
And oh my God… it’s better than I ever imagined. Rand has his face tilted to the ceiling to let the hot water hit him on the top of his head. His eyes are indeed closed and his lips slightly parted.
And a soapy hand is wrapped around his hard cock while he slowly strokes himself, twisting his wrist just a bit when he reaches the head.
I pull the curtain back further and the slide of the shower rings against the bar is loud enough to disturb Rand. His eyes open and his neck straightens.
He looks at me with lazy eyes and never misses a stroke. “Sorry. Took one look at you when I walked in that door, saw the way you blushed, and it made me incredibly horny. Had to jerk off before dinner.”
I can’t help but laugh, pulling the curtain back all the way. “Rinse your dick off.”
“Excuse me?” he says with wide blinking eyes, his hand still working himself.
“Rinse the soap off. I don’t like the taste of it.”
“Oh,” he says in understanding and immediately turns his body into the spray to do as I ask. When he’s squeaky clean, he shuts the water off before turning to face me.